Denimania

by Arthur Saxon
arthursaxon@zombieworld.com
The year was 2028, and western economies on both sides of the Atlantic had been riding high for nearly a decade. The United Kingdom in particular was prospering and, as was so often the case in such times, hemlines had been climbing steadily since the boom had begun. It had happened before – a century ago in the 1920s, then again in the 1960s, and then (albeit to a lesser extent) in the 1980s. There was a well-publicised link between hemlines and the economy, and consequently the government saw the rising hems as a good thing, and encouraged the trend, for this reason, and another... Now it was virtually impossible for a young woman to find a skirt or dress that covered more than a couple of inches of thigh below the buttocks – it was like the late sixties all over again.
And these days, of course, the fashion was for splay-skirts – skirts with enormously wide hems supported by slender hoops of memory-wire. These impractical garments had become highly popular, despite the fact that they made ascending stairs or escalators an inevitable panty-revealing event. And whenever a girl in a splay-skirt stood against an object that pressed her hem against her thighs, the hem on the other side would swing upwards, often above waist height, exposing her entire panties to anyone looking in her direction. Some women did this for effect, feigning horror and surprise when their state of exposure was pointed out to them.

But the backlash was minimal. In truth, Britain’s government was discreetly working to perpetuate the sexualisation of young women in society, for it had a more urgent problem – falling fertility rates. Today’s food was so rich in chemical pollutants that sperm counts had dropped to an all-time low … and with them, birth rates. The male libido also seemed to be suffering – a common complaint among wives and girlfriends recently was that their partners had very little interest in sex – an astonishing and unprecedented phenomenon. So the government was doing all it could to encourage its citizens to have more sex … and this included leaning on clothing manufacturers and fashion designers to keep hemlines high, for it recognised that the male libido was driven by visual stimuli. An early trend towards larger panties, in response to the greater risk of exposure, was quickly quashed by subtle government intervention.

From the boardroom to the shop floor, therefore, career women were finding it difficult, if not impossible, to keep their panties concealed from day to day. Television presenters were notable victims of this, for their live accidental exposures were gleefully captured for posterity by viewers across the country, and publicised on the internet in all their high-definition glory.

Not all televised exposures were accidental, of course. The music industry had happily jumped on the bandwagon as female clothing became skimpier. Its female stars had in the past tended to dress more racily than the average girl on the street, and now of course this was more of a challenge. Luckily, the replacement of scheduled television programming with a slew of WWYW (“Watch When You Want”) channels had caused the notion of a 9:00pm watershed to evaporate, and now nudity on television could be accessed twenty-four hours a day. In the current sexualised climate, this meant that pop videos were becoming sexier than they had ever been. In 2024, for her “Love Me, Pretty Boy” video, nineteen-year-old Maria Gallo had shocked (and aroused) the nation by dancing in the rain in nothing but a pair of panties, her long hair doing a very poor job of covering her breasts. A year later, the hugely popular girl band Crescent Moon had performed a stripper routine for their “Summer Lust” video, which had ended in them all being completely nude (albeit from the back). Also that year, the Mackay Twins from Scotland had famously stripped off their tops and bras while on stage in Edinburgh – a performance that was almost instantly made widely available on the internet, and which featured on their next video.

In the States, of course, these videos and others had initially been blurred according to traditional broadcast values, but this practice was soon abandoned for the simple reason that the unblurred versions were easily available on the internet, and so viewers in their millions were switching off the channels showing blurred versions. For competitive reasons, the blurring of nudity on American television ceased practically overnight.

In Britain in 2027, female pop stars flirted more and more with nudity. Shannon Ferguson’s infamous ‘pussy wedgie’ caused a storm of controversy, but the fuss died down soon enough with a little help from an internal scandal which caused veteran complaints body Mediawatch UK to self-destruct. A couple of months later, the high-definition close-up of Shannon’s thong had been superseded as a conversation piece by the antics of other exhibitionistic pop idols.

The government was not just relying on the visual stimuli afforded by music videos and street fashions, however. Since sexually-transmitted diseases, even AIDS, were now merely minor inconveniences, and easily treatable, advertising for condoms had been banned, and indeed condoms themselves were not so easily found these days. The same was true of the contraceptive pill and other preventative devices. In 2021 the age of consent had been reduced to fourteen, and nowadays sentences for statutory rape were token at best, and even rape rarely earned a sentence of more than a year. Abortions had been banned entirely, in 2024 – and not for reasons of religion or morality. The country simply needed more babies.

The results of all these measures were encouraging, from the government’s point of view. By 2028, birth rates were beginning to recover. Teenage pregnancies were up almost 40% from the 2020 figures, though a worrying number of these were still failing to come to term. And so the government think-tanks continued to work at the problem…

******************

“Would you just look at that!” exclaimed Lara Greaves, pointing at the television. “Grant, look!”

“I’m looking,” said Grant Greaves mildly, as he watched the pretty young newsreader on their 50-inch wall-screen.

“They’ve changed her desk!” said Lara indignantly. “Or they’ve lit it differently, or something – it’s obscene!”

What she was referring to was not really the desk or the lighting, but the brilliant white triangle between the newsreader’s legs. It did indeed look as if there was a light specially shining at her crotch beneath the frontless desk. On their large, ultra-high resolution screen, the triangle was nearly three inches across, so plenty of detail could be seen in terms of contouring, the pattern of the material, and a slightly darker area running down the middle.

“What the…” began Lara, as the white triangle suddenly doubled in size. “Good grief Grant, don’t zoom in on it!”

“Oops,” apologised Grant, and he zoomed back out. “Slip of the finger.”

“For heaven’s sake switch to another angle,” said Lara. “Why on Earth doesn’t she cross her legs if she’s going to wear a skirt that short? Doesn’t she realise the camera can see under her desk?”

“Of course she does,” said Grant. “It’s just another ploy to get the nation horny.”

Lara pursed her lips. “You know I don’t like that word Grant,” she said.

“My apologies,” said Grant. “Aroused, then.”

“Did you know that workplace productivity is down two percent since five years ago?” said Lara. “How is the country going to maintain its strong economy if women are flaunting their bodies at work and distracting the men?”

Grant shrugged. “I read another study that says productivity is up,” he said. “It depends who you ask.”

“Well it drives me crazy that more people aren’t as outraged as I am about the moral decay going on in this country,” said Lara vehemently. “I know there’s a fertility problem, but we should be tackling that by reducing the number of pollutants, not by getting everyone to have more sex!”

“They are tackling the pollution problem,” Grant reminded her. “But it’s a slow and costly process to clean up the planet, particularly since certain other countries are polluting faster than ever at the moment.”

“Goodness, Grant, I thought you would be on my side!” said Lara peevishly.

“Oh I am, I am,” Grant assured her. “I’m just playing devil’s advocate.”

Lara glanced at the clock, then clicked her tongue impatiently. “Where on Earth are the girls? They’d better not make us late for church.”

Grant raised his eyebrows. “Church isn’t for two hours,” he remarked. “They’ve got plenty of time.”

“Yes but you know how they like to disappear for hours at a time,” she said. “Goodness knows what they get up to. Besides, this is a big day for Emma. Would you please go and round them up?”

“They’re young, and having fun,” said Grant. “The farm’s a big place – by the time I find them I’ll be late for church myself. I’m sure they’ll be back in plenty of time – Emma’s been looking forward to today, after all. At least you could be grateful that they’re not out with boys.”

“Yes, there is that,” admitted Lara. She sighed. “Oh very well, I suppose you’re right. Just this once.”

Grant chuckled, and they smiled fondly at each other. After sixteen years of marriage, they were still very much in love, despite the occasional argument (which stemmed, very often, from Lara’s somewhat volatile personality).

******************

Emma and Poppy Greaves giggled as they chased each other among the cows in the lower field. “Tig!” said Poppy, as she skimmed Emma’s elbow with her outstretched fingers. “You’re it!” Both girls skidded to a stop and reversed direction, but Poppy, being the faster runner, quickly gained a good lead, and she interposed between herself and her sister a large Jersey cow with a white patch on its head. It turned to watch her mournfully as it re-chewed its last meal.

Emma tried to dash around the front of the cow, but Poppy merely danced around its rump, keeping the animal between herself and her sister. It looked up at Emma with its huge brown eyes, regarding her placidly – it was quite used to the girls and their games. Emma dashed around to the side of the cow again, and once more found herself looking at her sister over the top of its back. “Come on,” she said, “this is a stalemate.”

Poppy grinned, panting slightly. At fourteen years and two months, she was the younger of the two by over a year, but she had inherited her slim physique from her mother, and she loved sports. Emma, by contrast, took after her father’s side of the family – Grant’s mother was rather round, as was he himself. Fortunately Emma was very conscious of her weight, so she was certainly not fat, but her large breasts, rosy-cheeked round face and generous bottom were all hallmarks of her paternal ancestry. She was happy enough with her figure, but it was not exactly conducive to a lot of running around.

So she improvised. Slapping the cow on the rump, she shouted, “Move, Daisy!”

But the cow merely turned and looked back at her, before stooping and nosing at the ground.

“This is Ethel, not Daisy,” said Poppy. “Daisy’s over there.” She pointed, and for a moment was not looking at Emma.

Seizing her chance, Emma ducked low and scuttled underneath the cow, her hand reaching out towards Poppy’s shins. Her timing, however, proved unfortunate, for the cow at this moment decided to move off in search of greener pastures, and it began to walk forward. Its udder collided with Emma’s shoulder, bowling the girl over as Poppy burst out laughing at her sister’s predicament.

Emma’s understandable chagrin quickly turned to alarm, as she tried to avoid the cow’s hind feet as it tried to step over her. “Stop her!” she shrieked at Poppy.

“Woah Ethel, woah!” said Poppy, grabbing the cow around the neck and digging her feet in.

The bemused cow stopped in its tracks. “Are you all right?” asked Poppy in concern, looking underneath the animal at her sister.

“I’m fine,” reported Emma, “except that it’s standing on my t-shirt.” She was pinned between the cow’s hind legs, and lying on her back with her feet pointing forwards. Her white t-shirt, now streaked with mud, was stretched tight across her breasts on account of the cow’s right hind hoof standing on the excess material at her side. “Get it to move off again.”

But the cow had other ideas. It lifted its tail slightly, and then a torrent of urine poured down on the stricken girl’s chest and belly, soaking her t-shirt and turning it transparent in seconds. She squealed, then spluttered and spat as urine splashed into her mouth.

Poppy started to giggle, then she stopped and simply watched in fascination as her sister was deluged with Ethel’s pee. For some reason, she found she was enjoying the sight of Emma struggling to free herself as the yellow waterfall poured down on her breasts … and not just from a sense of sadistic satisfaction at her big sister’s come-uppance. No … she was distinctly … aroused.

And then Ethel raised her tail a little higher, and Poppy gasped as she realised what was about to happen. For a second she thought about warning Emma, but she quickly decided she would rather watch the drama unfold.

Emma, wiping splashes of urine from her face, was caught completely off guard by the stream of semi-liquid shit that now descended from the cow’s anus. It hit her full in the mouth – too late she sealed her lips – and then it poured all over her face, obscuring her mouth, nose and eyes in a brown avalanche.

Ethel moved off, leaving Emma spitting manure and wiping her face with an expression of utter misery emerging from beneath the mess. The cow’s shit now dropped on to her t-shirt, where every detail of her bra was visible underneath the thin, sodden material.

“I can’t … fucking … believe this!” Emma screamed.

“Poor thing,” said Poppy sympathetically, but then she smiled uncertainly. “What did it feel like?” she asked curiously.

“What did what feel like?” demanded Emma irritably.

“Having Ethel … pee all over you,” said Poppy.

Emma stared at her. “It felt gross, of course!” she said. “Why?”

Poppy shrugged and said defensively, “No reason – I was just asking, that’s all.”

“Come on – let’s go to the river,” said Emma. “I don’t want to go back to the house looking like this.”

As they walked, Poppy asked, “Was it warm?”

Emma stared at her again. “What, the pee? Yes of course it was fucking warm, it had just come from inside a fucking cow!” She shook her head in bemusement. “Why do you ask? Do you like the idea of a cow peeing on you?”

“No! Of course not!” said Poppy quickly. “I was just … just wondering.”

“Well let me satisfy your curiosity,” said Emma. She grabbed Poppy by the arm and swung her around, pulling her into a tight embrace.

Poppy gasped, and then she felt the dampness of Emma’s t-shirt soaking into her own. She looked down into her sister’s eyes – she was the taller of the two by a good three inches – and found them regarding her with a calculating look.

“Feel nice, does it?” asked Emma sardonically. “I notice you’re not trying to get away.”

Poppy blushed, and pulled away from her sister. “You’re mean,” she said, pouting.

As they continued to walk, she pressed her t-shirt against her belly and bra-clad breasts. The material was damp – slightly – but it could hardly compare with Emma’s experience.

“Look, Poppy,” said Emma after a moment, “I didn’t mean to be a bitch. I’m just really disgusted by what just happened, and I guess I wanted to take it out on you. I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay,” said Poppy. Then, after a moment, she grinned. “You look pretty sexy in a wet t-shirt, you know.” Then she squealed and started running as Emma growled and began to chase her.

Emma stripped off her shoes and jeans when they got to the river, and then she waded in to wash herself off as thoroughly as possible. Poppy, after watching Emma for a moment, did the same. Both of them took off their t-shirts and bras to wash them, and then they had fun splashing water at each other for a few minutes. Wearing just their soaking wet panties, and carrying their other wet clothes, they climbed out and lay in the sun to dry.

“What time is it?” asked Emma suddenly.

Poppy looked at her watch. “Ten-fifteen,” she said.

“Shit,” said Emma. “I need to go home and get ready – I’ve got my audition today.”

“Oh yes!” said Poppy. “I’d forgotten about that. Come on – let’s get dressed.”

Once they had put their clothes back on, Emma looked down critically at her breasts. “Do I really look sexy in a wet t-shirt?” she asked.

Poppy burst out laughing, and then so did Emma. They headed back up towards the house, still giggling sporadically. Halfway there, Emma said, “I hope Mum doesn’t flip when she sees us like this.”

Poppy just shrugged. “We’ll say we got muddy and rinsed our clothes in the river. It wouldn’t be the first time.”

Emma nodded. “All the same, I think I’ll keep my arms folded when we go indoors.”

Her sister laughed. “You’re really getting a complex about that, aren’t you? Come on Em, it’s just Mum and Dad.”

“Yeah, but you know what Mum’s like about sexy clothing,” said Emma. “I swear she’s SO old-fashioned it just isn’t funny.”

“True,” agreed Poppy. “So what are you going to wear today?”

“Long white dress – the one Mum says looks ‘virginal’.” Emma rolled her eyes.

“Yuck!” said Poppy. “And you’re going along with that?”

“What choice do I have?” snapped Emma. Then she shrugged. “It might work – this is a church thing, after all. A lot of the other girls will be wearing short skirts and dresses, so if the judges are real prudes then I might get extra credit.”

“Yeah, well good luck,” said Poppy. “You’ll look like you’re getting married.”

“Great – thanks,” said Emma, her stomach curling at the thought.

They made it upstairs without encountering their parents, and then Emma showered and put her clothes on. When she grumpily came thumping down the stairs, her mother beamed with pride. “You look gorgeous!” she said.

“I look like a bride,” Emma muttered.

Grant came out of the living room to investigate. “Good heavens Lara, she can’t wear that old thing!” he said. “She’ll be laughed out of church!”

Lara frowned. “There’s nothing wrong with it!” she said. “I think it looks very becoming.”

“Dear, I think a little compromise may be needed here between your own standards and the current fashion trends.”

“I agree,” said Poppy, coming down the stairs in a low-cut t-shirt and a little splay skirt.

Lara looked up, and gasped at the sight of Poppy’s pink panties descending towards her. “Poppy, how many times have I told you – no splay skirts in church!”

“Oh but Mum!” complained Poppy. “This one isn’t very splayed, and it’s not even that short!”

“It’s short enough!” shuddered Lara. “Now go and put on something more appropriate.”

Poppy, glowering, stomped back up the stairs and disappeared into her room.

“You too, Emma,” said Grant.

“What?” said Lara.

“Come on Lara, times have changed,” said Grant. “You’ve seen the fashions in church – can’t you go and find something for Emma to wear that will at least not look as if it’s come from a different century?”

Lara grimaced. “I suppose so,” she said. “Come on then Emma.”

In the end, Emma wore a shimmering silver skirt that came down to mid-thigh, and a cream-coloured blouse. The skirt felt about ten years out of date, but it was a lot better than the white dress. Poppy, for her part, wore a tight black skirt that stopped three inches below her buttocks.

“Better,” approved Lara. “Let’s go.”

******************

The service was normal enough to begin with, but today there was a special twist – several girls from the choir and congregation were to audition for a new girl band – the brainchild of a local evangelist who wished to set up a ‘wholesome’ alternative to the lewdness of the current crop of female pop stars.

Emma was the third girl to audition. She fought down the butterflies in her stomach, and then sang a favourite hymn of her mother’s: “Who Can Measure the Depth of God’s Love”. She sang it perfectly, and the congregation applauded appreciatively. It turned out that Emma was not the most conservatively dressed singer – but nor was she by any means the most skimpily dressed. One girl had had the poor judgment to wear a very short splay dress which, when she raised her arms to the heavens in praise of Jesus, rose several inches to reveal her love-heart patterned panties. The end of her performance was met with a stony silence, and a few embarrassed words of thanks from the minister.

Emma won. Her parents were thrilled, and hugged her and kissed her until she wanted to run away screaming. But she was very excited herself when evangelist Terry Cochran himself came over to introduce himself and tell her what was in store.

“You’ll be meeting the rest of the band on Tuesday evening,” he said. “There’s no need for you to miss any school. Here’s the address.” He handed her a card. “On Tuesday we’ll just go over what we expect from you all, and discuss our plans for the immediate future, and then we’ll start rehearsing on Saturday.”

“This is so awesome!” said Poppy to Emma on the way home. “I’m so proud of you!”

“Thanks,” smiled Emma. “I’m sorry Mum wouldn’t let you audition – you’ve got just as good a voice as I have.”

“Yeah, well … thanks,” said Poppy, her own smile fading. “It’s not as good as yours, really, but all the same I would love to have auditioned…”

“You’re too young,” Grant reminded her from the front of the car. “Emma’s just finished her exams – you have way too much holiday work to do this summer.”

“But Emma’s got more exams coming up – and more important ones too!” complained Poppy, her resentment bubbling to the surface.

“Not for two years,” said Grant mildly. “Or three, if necessary.”

Emma, being academically gifted, was a year ahead of her contemporaries. She would only just have turned seventeen when the time came to take her university entrance exams, but if this band thing became at all successful, she could always take those exams the following year. She had discussed all this at length with her parents, who were torn between wanting her to succeed academically and wanting her to be a teen ambassador for the church. At least, Grant was torn. Lara was wholeheartedly in favour of Emma’s potential musical/evangelical career.

******************

On Monday evening, therefore, when Lara received a call from Terry which began “I’m afraid there’s a bit of a problem”, she almost had a panic attack. But it turned out to be a minor logistical difficulty.

“We’re no longer going to be meeting at the address I gave Emma, unfortunately, Mrs Greaves. It seems there was a scheduling conflict – an error on the part of our secretary here, I’m afraid. “We’ll now be meeting at the rectory in Walton. It’s a bit cramped, but we’ll be all right.”

“Cramped?” repeated Lara. “Well if you need somewhere with space, you could always use our living room – it’s enormous. Or a barn if you need something really big.”

Terry raised his eyebrows. “A barn? You live on a farm?”

“Yes,” said Lara cheerfully. “Lots of space here.”

”Well … you know, that might actually work pretty nicely. I believe you’re pretty centrally located…

“We’re just outside Cowthorpe,” said Lara.

”Right – well that’s perfect then – if I could just get your address and some directions…?”

And thus it was that the following night, Emma met with two other girls, plus Terry, plus Val Hopkins, a record producer from Manchester that Terry was apparently acquainted with, plus a lady called Marge whom Terry introduced as a ‘style guru’, and a nerdy-looking young man called Brian who said that he would be writing their songs. They all sat around in the Greaves’s living room, and chatted informally about the band.

“Now before we begin,” said Terry, “I should mention that Francesca is not in fact late – she’s not coming. Apparently she had auditioned without her parents’ permission, so … she won’t be joining the band. I’ve not had time to find a replacement yet, but I thought we should still get together and talk about what we’re doing and where we’re going.”

“That’s all very well,” said Val, looking annoyed, “but I came here in part to hear how the girls sound together. If we don’t have the entire band here yet, then I really shouldn’t have bothered coming.”

“Now don’t be melodramatic,” said Terry gently. “You can still listen to these three, and then perhaps we can figure out what’s missing from the sound and better inform our choice as to a fourth singer.”

Val grunted. “I suppose so,” he said.

“My sister could fill in as a fourth voice if you like,” Emma offered suddenly. “She’s got a lovely voice – I’m sure you’ll like her.”

Val shook his head, but Terry looked interested. “If she can sing in tune, then I don’t see why not.”

“I think she’s feeding the chickens at the moment,” said Emma, getting to her feet, “but I’m sure she’ll be done pretty soon.”

“Certainly,” said Val. “Why not. Go and get her then.” He looked and sounded rather surly as he said this.

“I’ll be right back!” Emma promised, and she dashed out of the room.

She almost collided with her mother. “Mum!” she said, shocked. “Were you eavesdropping?”

“Of course not!” said Lara. “I was just passing … but I couldn’t help overhearing. Your sister’s feeding the chickens – tell her she’ll have to get changed before she meets Terry and his friends.”

“I will,” said Emma, and she hurried through the kitchen and out of the back door.

Entering the chicken shed at one end, she saw her sister at the far end, standing with her back to Emma. Thinking it would be fun to sneak up and surprise Poppy, Emma crept as quietly as she could along the length of the shed. As she approached Poppy, however, she paused in puzzlement – what was her sister doing?

The lighting in the shed was poor, but Emma was sure that the inside legs of Poppy’s jeans were dark with wetness. As she watched in mounting shock, she saw a yellow trickle drip out of the left leg and soak into the floor. Poppy was peeing herself! Moreover, from the way her arm was tucked around in front of her, and the little moans and gasps Poppy was uttering, it seemed that her sister was masturbating!

“Poppy?”

Poppy whirled around, her eyes wide with panic. “Er, hi!” she said, her cheeks blushing crimson. “Er, I was just, um, feeding the chickens…”

“Whatever – it’s none of my business,” said Emma, trying to suppress a giggle. “Now hurry up and go and change. One of my fellow bandmembers has quit already, so we need a stand-in for this evening. Are you interested?”

“Yes!” said Poppy immediately. Then she looked down at her pee-soaked jeans. “Oh heck.”

“Go and change!” said Emma. “Hurry. Meet us in the living room as soon as you’re ready. Look smart – and no splay skirts. You know you can’t sit down properly in them.”

“Yes I can!” said Poppy indignantly.

“Are you going to argue with me or are you going to come and impress Terry and this record producer guy?”

“I’m going, I’m going,” said Poppy, and she hurried off.

“Make sure you don’t smell of pee when you join us!” Emma called after her.

“Shut up!” Poppy hissed back, before disappearing around the corner.

Chuckling to herself, Emma rejoined the others in the living room. They were discussing the band’s name.

“How about the Princesses?” suggested Terry.

“Too arrogant-sounding,” said Val. “It may go down well with the Christian market, but if you want to have any hope at all of breaking through, you don’t want them to sound like they’re too holier-than-thou.”

“I see,” said Terry. “Well, mainstream success would certainly be the ultimate goal. How about the Nice Girls?”

“No offence, Terry,” said Marge, “but you suck at naming bands.”

While the adults talked, Emma studied her fellow band members. Chloe was raven-haired, stunningly attractive, and looked a little older than Emma – maybe sixteen years old. She had a willowy figure, and exuded a grace and poise that made Emma instantly envious. Beautifully tanned and with dark brown eyes, she had an almost exotic look – as if she had some Mediterranean blood, perhaps. She was wearing a very short green sundress which kept threatening to reveal her panties, except that she was much too skilled at getting up, sitting down, and crossing and uncrossing her legs without showing anything. The girl had class.

Rosie, on the other hand, was very different – a fifteen-year-old redhead with flawless but very pale skin. Her hair was parted down the middle and plaited, a look which made her seem a little nerdy, especially when coupled with her round glasses. She and Brian looked like they would make quite a cute couple. Her wide eyes seemed all the wider behind her glasses, giving her an air of innocence which was corroborated by her knee-length denim dress with a large picture of Winnie the Pooh on the front. She was also wearing long white socks which stopped an inch or so above her knees. Less expert than Chloe in the art of leg-crossing, she inadvertently allowed Emma to see the top of her right sock and a considerable distance up the inside of her right thigh a couple of times in the space of ten minutes. Not that Emma was looking, of course.

A thundering of feet on the stairs heralded Poppy’s arrival. Emma got to her feet as the door opened. “Allow me to introduce my younger sister, Poppy.”

Poppy bounced in with her eyes shining. “Hello!” she said, shaking the first hand that was proffered to her – it happened to be Brian’s. “I’m Poppy.”

Emma smiled to herself. Poppy had ignored her request about not wearing a splay skirt, though to be fair it was not as splayed as most. At the hem it gave her legs about five inches of clearance all the way around. Emma hoped that her sister would be careful about how she sat down.

And so she was. The rule of thumb with splay skirts was this: never sit down on the back of the skirt. If you did, the front of the skirt would flip up and expose your panties to the world. Unless, that is, you held down the middle of the front of the skirt, in which case the hoops would cause the skirt to bulge awkwardly around your hand. By far the best method was to hold on to the front of the skirt and sit down so that the hem hoop ended up resting across your legs at the front and on the seat just behind your bottom at the back. This had the drawback of exposing the sides of your legs almost to the hip if you were sitting on a hard surface, but on a nice squishy sofa or armchair – something your bottom could sink into – it worked brilliantly. Poppy chose a nice comfy armchair and sat down with a care that made Emma nod with satisfaction.

Emma herself was wearing a pair of capris and a sweatshirt. She felt suddenly very drab and unattractive in this company.

Brian had been delighted to find a piano in the living room. He played them a tune of his devising, and passed out lyric sheets. The song was called “Wait for Your Wedding Night”.

“I think this is a very appropriate song for the girls to start with,” said Terry. “They are all old enough to get married now, thanks to that awful new law, and since the government insists on encouraging teenagers to have sex willy-nilly and without protection or thought for the future, this will be a nice counterbalance to their campaign. Good work, Brian.”

“Thanks,” said Brian. “Now ladies, if you could repeat the following line after me.” He played a few bars on the piano, and then repeated them, singing, “What is wrong with the world today”.

The girls dutifully followed his lead, and within a few minutes they had the entire song down pat – it was not a complex or varied piece. Then Brian began teaching them harmonies, but after a few minutes of singing together, Val held up his hand. “Okay,” he said, “I’ve heard enough. Terry, could I perhaps have a word with you alone?”

He and Terry left the room. “Poppy’s perfect,” said Val. “I strongly suggest we make her the fourth member of the group.”

“Ah, but I’m not sure whether she’s allowed,” said Terry. “I gather her parents feel she’s a little young…”

“How old is she?” asked Val.

“Fourteen,” said Terry.

“And that’s too young because…?” said Val. “Listen Terry, she’s a perfect fit. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’ve got a blonde, a brunette, a redhead and a girl with black hair. We’ve got an athletic girl, a nerdy girl, an exotic beauty, and a girl-next-door type with big boobs. All of them are pretty girls, but crucially, they all look very different. And they can all sing! It’s a marketing man’s dream.”

“I’m not sure I like your comment on Emma’s … uh … buxom figure,” said Terry. “I refuse to exploit or emphasize the sexuality of these girls – they’re supposed to be the antidote to all that.”

“Yeah yeah, okay, I know,” said Val. “But my point is, they work well together, and I think we should take advantage of that. Now do you want to talk to Poppy’s parents or shall I?”

Terry nodded. “I’ll talk to them,” he said.

It was a smooth and persuasive sales pitch, and one which immediately won Lara over. Grant took a little more convincing, but once Val had reassured him that the record company would pay for a tutor if necessary to bring Poppy up to speed with her schoolwork, he reluctantly agreed.

“I’ve had an idea,” said Marge, later in the evening. “The band should have a theme, okay? I don’t just mean the theme of Christianity – I mean a cultural theme that informs their clothing choices, the nature of their videos, and so on.”

“You have something in mind?” asked Val.

“I do,” said Marge. “Since two members of our group are farm girls, why not run with that? Have all the girls dress up as farm girls – call the band The Farm Girls or something like that, and shoot our first video on this very farm. Or another farm – doesn’t matter. The costumes would be simple but eye-catching, and it will give the band a distinctive look which will make them instantly recognisable to your average boy or girl on the street.”

Val nodded slowly. “I like it. How about ‘The Farmer’s Daughters’?”

“That’s cool,” agreed Brian.

“Sounds okay to me,” said Terry. “So what kind of look are you thinking of? Straw hats and smocks?”

Marge stared at him. “They’re farm girls, not village idiots,” she said. “I thought we might go with a denim theme.”

“Hey, that could be good,” said Terry. “Maybe one girl in dungarees, one in jeans, one in a denim dress perhaps…”

“Something like that,” said Marge, “yes. But perhaps a little more eye-catching. I was thinking more of Daisy Dukes and denim miniskirts, with perhaps a cute little denim jacket or a denim crop-top.”

Val smiled. “Yes, that could really work. Especially on the other side of the pond. Four British girls in ranch-style gear – that could be a winning gimmick.”

“Hmm, I don’t know,” said Brian. “The look would suggest country music – you might cause some confusion in the States if you have these ranch girls singing Christian pop.”

Val shrugged. “We’ll cross that bridge as and when. In the meantime, ladies and gents, it’s getting late and I have to get back to Manchester. Early meeting tomorrow.”

Marge said quickly, “Perhaps I could quickly measure the girls for their outfits before I go?”

“Go ahead,” said Val. “Good idea. Well, good night everyone.”

Once he had gone, Marge spent a few minutes taking all four girls’ measurements, then she, too, bade them goodnight and left, along with Brian and Terry.

Emma and Poppy went to their respective beds, both feeling excited about the adventure ahead of them.

******************

The next day at school was an unusual one, and temporarily drove thoughts of pop stardom from the girls’ heads. At morning assembly, the headmaster had an announcement.

“I know that last year we banned splay skirts,” he said, “and speaking personally I still disapprove of them, but the Department of Education has now issued some clothing regulations which will overturn that ban, amongst other things. The department has insisted that these rules must be followed. According to the regulations, therefore, I have drawn up a new school dress code, which I will post on the main noticeboard in corridor D. I apologise for issuing this code so close to the end of the summer term, but legally I cannot let the current code stand for another day. These new clothing rules will be effective as of tomorrow morning. Just so that you all know what to expect, I will read through the dress code now.”

Murmurs filled the room as the headmaster fished out and donned his glasses. There were three hundred pupils at St Mark’s, two thirds of them girls (it had until recently been an all-girl school), and all of them aged between twelve and eighteen. Several of the girls were pregnant, including one thirteen-year-old who refused to name the father.

The headmaster cleared his throat. “The following rules apply to the boys,” he said, reading from a booklet in his hand. “Shoes must be clean and in good repair.” He turned the page. “The following rules apply to all girls over the age of consent. Uh, that would be, uh, fourteen, of course. One – skirts or dresses must be worn. Skorts are not allowed, nor are shorts or trousers of any kind. Two – skirts must be short enough to reveal at least part of the panties while standing upright, when viewed from the front. Skirts may not be longer at the back than they are at the front.”

He cleared his throat again. “Three – panties must be worn. They may not be full-cut. The top of the waistband must be no more than three inches above the, uh, clitoris, and at the back it should be no more than an inch above the top of the buttock cleavage.”

Titters ran through the hall as the headmaster said the word ‘clitoris’, and again at the words ‘buttock cleavage’. He pulled out a handkerchief and mopped his brow. Then he cleared his throat again. “Furthermore, panties may not cover more than fifty percent of the buttocks. Panties may be as skimpy as desired, but at a minimum there must be at least some material connecting the front to the back between the legs, and the clitoris must be covered.

“Four – tops must be sleeveless in the summer, and cut low enough to expose at least part of the bra. Five – all tops, or dresses if applicable, must bear a department-approved slogan, with lettering clearly defined and no less than one inch in height.” He lowered his notebook. “This morning a consignment of labels bearing such slogans arrived at the school shop. These may be affixed to your current tank-tops, halter-tops or boob tubes, which are apparently now acceptable attire for female pupils. As of the start of next term, however, these slogans are expected to be printed on your tops, or dresses, if you are wearing a dress instead of a skirt.”

He raised his notebook again. “Six – bras are optional. If a bra is not worn, then the pupil may be required to demonstrate that her top is cut low enough to reveal part of a bra, if one were worn. Seven – no tights may be worn. Stockings are acceptable, as are socks. Shoes must be clean and in good repair.”

He turned another page. “The following rules apply to girls under the age of consent. One – skirts or dresses must be worn. Skorts are not allowed, nor are shorts or trousers of any kind. Two – skirts and dresses must cover the panties, but the hemline may not be lower than two inches below the buttocks. Three – tops must not bear any slogan, and they must cover the bra, if one is worn, or the entire breast area otherwise. Four – panties must be worn. Five – no tights may be worn. Stockings are acceptable, as are socks. Shoes must be clean and in good repair.”

He put the notebook down. “These rules are, of course, designed to encourage all pupils over the age of consent to have sex with each other. You may not have sex during lessons, nor during meals, nor during assembly. You may not have sex in the classrooms or corridors. You are encouraged, however, to have sex during breaks, free periods, and after lunch, in the dormitories which have been set up on the third floor. You all know where they are by now. That is all – thank you for your attention.”

As Emma left with her friend Helen, she muttered, “Jeez, they’re really pushing this aren’t they?”

“Yeah,” said Helen. “Pretty soon they’ll be requiring us to have sex whether we want to or not. Have you told your mum yet about the dormitories?”

Emma shivered. “No way – she’d flip out completely. I’m not sure how I’m going to keep this latest dress code from her though – she sees what we wear to school every day.”

“Maybe she’ll take you out of school,” said Helen. “Transfer you to somewhere else.”

“Didn’t you hear Beardy? These rules have come from the department of education – any school we go to will have the same dress code.”

“Oh, yeah,” said Helen. “Well perhaps she’ll get you a tutor or something.”

“But I don’t want one!” said Emma. “I like it here! Of course I’d like it better if we didn’t have to wear such tiny skirts. Hey, what’s going to happen in the winter? We’ll freeze with the current dress code.”

“I don’t know,” said Helen. “But I’m sure as hell not going to wear sleeveless tops in freezing temperatures.”

“Me neither,” agreed Emma. She thought about her prospects of singing in a girl band, and for the first time began to wonder whether perhaps a tutor might not be such a bad idea. But she had not told anyone at school about her musical plans, and she still did not want to yet. After the summer holidays perhaps, when things were further advanced…

******************

Back at the farm that afternoon, Emma and Poppy went out to do their chores. While they were filling the cows’ water troughs, Poppy said, “How cool is it that we’re going to be in a band?”

“Very cool,” said Emma. “But it’s not happened yet, so I don’t want to get too excited at the idea. When we’re on stage performing in front of thousands of people, then maybe it will seem real. At the moment I still feel like it’s just a fantasy.”

“Well it’s not,” said Poppy, “so you’d better get used to the idea. What do you think you’ll end up wearing?”

Emma shrugged. “Well I don’t have your legs,” she said, “so I’m sure I’ll end up wearing jeans or a long skirt. You’ll probably end up in the miniskirt or the ‘Daisy Dukes’, whatever they are.”

“I asked about that,” said Poppy. “Apparently they’re really short shorts. Something to do with an old Jessica Simpson movie.” Then she cocked her head on one side. “Anyway I don’t know what you mean about your legs – they’re perfectly nice. You look good in miniskirts.”

Emma smiled. “Thanks Poppy,” she said. “But they’re not skinny like those of pop stars.”

Poppy chuckled. “Perhaps not, but you have a big advantage over most of them.”

“What’s that – the fact that I can sing?”

“No,” said Poppy. “Your giant boobs.”

Emma pouted, and then splashed water at Poppy, who squealed and danced out of reach. Emma gave chase, and whooped as Poppy slipped in a patch of mud and fell. In a second, Emma was on top of her, pinning her down. “Giant?” she demanded.

“Giant is good!” squeaked Poppy. “A good thing!”

“I should smother you with them,” Emma retorted.

Poppy giggled, and then she wrenched her hands free, and started tickling Emma.

“Don’t tickle me!” gasped Emma, trying to fight off Poppy’s hands while maintaining her position, straddling Poppy’s midsection. “You know it makes me pee.” Then her eyes widened. “That’s it!” she accused Poppy. “You want me to pee on you!”

Poppy blushed deeply. “Do not,” she muttered. But her eyes were shining with anticipation.

Emma had not bothered changing into her jeans yet, so she was still wearing the short pleated skirt she had worn to school. Consequently there was only the thin fabric of her panties between her crotch and her sister’s t-shirt. She actually did need to pee…

Poppy gasped as she felt the liquid warmth soak her t-shirt just above her belly-button, and spread outwards from there. She stopped trying to tickle Emma, and simply lay still, savouring the feeling of Emma’s pee drenching her front.

Emma, in truth, was a little aroused herself. This was a very naughty thing she was doing – peeing her panties – and it actually felt rather nice. The fact that she was peeing on her sister – well, that was very naughty indeed. She raised herself up and shuffled forwards so that she was poised over Poppy’s breasts. Poppy lifted the front of Emma’s skirt and watched in awe as Emma’s pee poured through her white cotton panties and descended in a little cataract to between her breasts. Catching some of it in her hand, she poured it on to her right breast and started rubbing it in.

“You’re really quite a nasty little slut, aren’t you?” remarked Emma, grinning.

Poppy pouted. “I’m not the one peeing myself.”

“But you’re the one enjoying it,” said Emma. “Aren’t you?”

Poppy blushed and nodded. Then she raised her wet hand to her face and licked her palm.

“Yuck!” said Emma. “You drink it too?”

Poppy squirmed in embarrassment. “It’s not unhealthy,” she said. “I read about it on the internet. It’s sterile.”

Emma stopped peeing, and thought for a moment. She was getting quite horny, despite herself. “Well if you like the taste so much,” she said, a little huskily, “perhaps you had better suck it out of my panties.”

Poppy gasped and shook her head, but did not try to escape as Emma shuffled forward some more and lowered her panty-clad crotch towards her mouth. The wet panties had moulded themselves to the contours of Emma’s pussy, and there was a little bump where Emma’s clitoris was. As the sodden, aromatic material descended, Poppy opened her mouth and enclosed Emma’s clit with her lips. Then she began to suck.

Emma shivered at the sensation, then started moaning with pleasure – this felt really nice! “Oh God!” she whispered. “Yeah, Poppy, keep sucking. You little pee slut. Ohhh…”

Moments later she was trembling in orgasm, and uttering rapturous moans. Then, as she came down off her high, she climbed off Poppy, who was looking rather ashamed and worried. Emma smiled at her to reassure her. “I don’t know, Poppy,” she said. “I think you must be a lesbian – you did that awfully well.”

Poppy covered her face in embarrassment. “Oh Em,” she said. “Am I evil?” She began to cry.

“Heck no!” said Emma, annoyed. “Come off it, Poppy – I guess that was fun for both of us. I’ll admit it – peeing on you was kind of hot. And I loved … the sucking part. So I guess we’re both lesbians, to a certain extent.”

Poppy got to her feet. “Thank you,” she said.

“For what?” asked Emma. “For peeing on you?”

Poppy nodded, and smiled a little nervously. “Would you do it again?”

Emma shrugged. “I don’t see why not,” she said. Then she grinned. “Would you suck my pussy again?”

Poppy blushed. “If you want,” she said.

The girls never got around to changing out of the skirts they had worn to school. They finished their chores and then took the dogs out for a walk. Ben was a Great Dane – a huge dog with as sweet a personality as you could imagine. Solomon was a Mastiff – also enormous – who could be a little aggressive with strangers as it was very protective of the two girls.

As they passed the cow field, Emma smiled. “I could hold Ben for a while if you want to go in there and lie under a cow,” she said.

Poppy hung her head. “Don’t tease,” she said.

“I’m serious!” said Sam. “Would you like to?”

Poppy paused and looked into the field. “Um, maybe,” she said.

“Tell me,” said Emma. “Did you like everything that happened to me in there? Or was it just the pee shower?”

“Huh? Oh, you mean the … the shit shower?” asked Poppy. She shrugged. “That looked kind of fun too, I guess.”

Emma laughed and shook her head. “This is a new side of you I never knew existed,” she said. “So, would it turn you on if I shat on you?”

Poppy fairly squirmed in embarrassment. “Yeah – probably,” she said in a small voice.

Emma grinned. “Well, I don’t really need to go right now,” she said. “How about you?”

The younger girl nodded. “Actually yes – I haven’t been in a couple of days.”

“Okay then,” said Emma, licking her lips, “let’s see you piss and shit yourself.”

Poppy looked around in concern. “Here?”

“Sure! Why not? We can’t be seen from the house.”

Poppy hesitated for a moment, then she handed Ben’s leash to her sister. Turning away, she spread her feet about fifteen inches apart and leaned against a fencepost.

“Lift your skirt,” said Emma. “I want to see it happen.” She was not sure why, but the prospect of watching her sister mess herself was causing her considerable arousal. Taking both leashes in her left hand, she pulled up her own skirt a little and started rubbing her pussy through her panties.

Poppy grasped the sides of her skirt with both hands, and pulled upwards, revealing her little white panties. She relaxed her bladder, and a stream of golden pee surged out of her urethra, flooding her panties and soaking them instantly. The liquid poured through, splashing in the grass between her feet. While it flowed, she stuck her fingers between her legs, letting the pee pour over them and through them, then she brought her hand up to her mouth and licked her fingers clean.

Behind her Emma, watching in mounting excitement, lifted her skirt higher so she could stick her hand inside her panties. She rubbed hard on her clitoris, her breath coming in gasps as her arousal built steadily towards her climax.

When she had finished peeing, Poppy pursed her lips and began to strain. She had never had any trouble pooping ‘on demand’, unlike her sister, who had a nervous bowel. Almost immediately her anus flowered open, and a slender, soft poo began to squirt rapidly into her panties. It looped back and forth, building itself into a squishy, elongated ball at the base of her buttocks.

Emma, watching the growing bulge in her sister’s panties, climaxed almost immediately, her excited moans of pleasure causing Ben to whine in confusion. “Oh God!” she gasped. “Yes, shit yourself, you filthy little slut. Shit your panties for me.”

Poppy was just as aroused as Emma. Her hand was down the front of her own panties, stroking her clitoris as she continued to defecate into the back. She had never done this before – not since she was three years old, anyway – but the sensation was amazing. The warm poo, nestling against her bottom… She reached back with one hand and pressed it against the bulge, squishing her poo sideways and downwards. “Oh God!” she whispered. The soft, warm mass felt like it was lovingly stroking her bottom, and naughtily creeping between her legs like an over-keen boyfriend pushing his luck.

“Ooh, stop that,” she muttered, still pooping as she squished some of the mess forward along her gusset. “No, not there!” she whispered, as the poo oozed over her vaginal opening and started creeping between her labia. “No – you really mustn’t!” she insisted, as the poo reached her clitoris, and the fingers of her other started to get messy. She rubbed the poo directly into her clit, and this brought her to a shuddering climax which made her sink to her knees.

“Wow!” said Emma, impressed. “That looked like a good one!”

“It was,” replied Poppy breathlessly. Then, as she came down off her high, she said, “Oh my God, Em, that was the best! I am never shitting in the toilet again!”

Emma laughed. “You pervert,” she said. “I have to admit, though, it did look kind of cool.”

“It is,” said Poppy. “You should try it.”

“Maybe I will,” replied Emma coquettishly, fluttering her eyelashes at Poppy. That sent both of them off into a fit of giggling, which was broken by Emma’s gasp as Solomon started sniffing at her pussy through her damp panties. “Bad dog!” she scolded him, pushing his nose away.

“Perhaps he wants to lick your pussy,” said Poppy. “Why don’t you let him?”

“You’re sick!” said Emma. “I’m not letting a dog lick my pussy!”

“I bet it’ll feel nice,” coaxed Poppy.

Emma thought about it. “I suppose it might,” she said, “but that’s just a little too kinky for me. Come on, let’s go and get you cleaned up.”

“Do you mind if I stay like this for a while?” asked Poppy. “It feels awfully nice to have all this shit in my panties.”

Emma shrugged. “Sure – I don’t mind. You might want to pull your skirt down though, in case Dad comes out unexpectedly.”

Poppy nodded, and tugged her skirt down over her bulging panties. Continuing their walk, they eventually arrived back at the house. Poppy peered nervously into the windows. “Could you go in first?” she said. “See if you can distract Mum and Dad and give me a safe way through?”

Emma entered the house through the front door. She could hear her mother in the kitchen, but could not see her father. She beckoned for Poppy to follow her, and together they sneaked up the stairs and into the bathroom. Emma locked the door, and Poppy pulled down her panties, staring in fascination at the squashed poo contained within. With a sigh almost of regret, she held her panties upside down over the toilet and shook them so that the shit mostly fell out. Then she flushed, rinsing her panties in the swirling water.

Emma helped her out with the clean-up, hosing her down with the shower head as Poppy washed herself in the bathtub. Afterwards, they sprayed air freshener liberally around the room, but in truth the fan had done a pretty good job of removing the smell already. By the time they left the bathroom, there was no trace of Poppy’s messy adventure.

******************

That evening at about eight o’clock, having finished watching a documentary about languages on television, Emma went in search of Poppy and found her in the kitchen. The younger girl was pouring milk over a bowl of cereal.

“Didn’t you get enough to eat at dinner?” asked Emma in surprise. Then she peered more closely at the contents of the cereal bowl. “Holy cow – is that Brantasia?”

“Yup!” said Poppy as she dipped her spoon into the bowl and scooped up a pile of little brown discs. “I’m really looking forward to shitting in my panties again, and I want there to be a lot of it when I do. And I don’t want to wait three or four days to build up a nice big load.”

“But do you know how concentrated that stuff is?” asked Emma, staring at the bowl in disbelief. “Dad has like a quarter of that amount, and he says it makes him poop like an elephant! Every day!”

“I know!” said Poppy with a cheerful smile. “Would you like a bowl yourself?”

“No fear!” said Emma. “I poop quite often enough, thanks.”

She watched in fascination as her sister worked her way through the entire bowl of Brantasia. Then the two of them went upstairs to pick out their outfits for the following day. They had both visited the school shop to collect a government-approved label, but neither had any skirts or tops that conformed to the new rules, so they figured on adjusting some of their own clothes to bring them within compliance. Both were skilled seamstresses, having been well taught by their mother.

Emma had to remove the sleeves from one of her t-shirts, and cut away the neckline until it exposed part of her bra. Re-hemming it was a pain, but she succeeded in making it look pretty professional. She put it on to make sure the cups of her bra were peeping above the neckline, and was satisfied at the result – about a quarter of an inch of bra was exposed on both sides. Enough not to be considered a token effort, but not enough to be obscenely revealing. Then she turned to one of her short summer skirts – it would be easier to shorten than, say, a pleated skirt or a splay skirt (of which she had one, practically unworn). She cut about seven inches off the bottom of the skirt, and re-hemmed it. When she tried it on, she shivered as she saw that it exposed an inch and a half of her panties at the front. This was definitely obscene – rather more so than she had intended – yet it fully complied with the new regulation. Sighing unhappily, she picked up the label she had bought, and pressed it against her top. It adhered firmly to the material – she would not be able to get it off now without tearing the top. She was very uncomfortable about going to school wearing a top that said “FONDLE MY TITS”, but the other labels in the shop were just as bad if not worse.

A few minutes later, Poppy bounced into the room. “What do you think?” she asked, twirling on the spot. Her tight Lycra skirt was rather uneven at the bottom, having been trimmed in a hurry, but Emma was more concerned by the fact that more than three inches of Poppy’s panties were on display.

“Good grief!” she said. “Looks like you went overboard a little on the trimming!”

Poppy looked down, and giggled. “Oops!” she said. “It keeps riding up when I walk. Here.” She pulled the skirt down until only an inch of her panties was showing. “See? It’s not even as revealing as yours.”

“Yeah.” Emma tried unsuccessfully to tug her own skirt down. “I kind of miscalculated.”

Poppy was also wearing a pink tank-top with the neckline cut so deep that a good portion of her bra was showing. Across her breasts were the words “STRIP ME NAKED”. Emma rolled her eyes. “These slogans are crazy,” she said. “Did you see some of the others?”

Poppy nodded. “I saw one that said RIPE FOR FUCKING,” she said, wide-eyed. “Can you believe the government would approve slogans with swear words in them?”

Emma shook her head. “The word ‘fuck’ isn’t considered a swear word any more, Poppy, if it’s used to refer to sex. It’s only swearing if you say ‘fuck off’ or ‘fuck you’ or something.”

Her sister shrugged. “Okay, but still – it’s a pretty strong word. Anyway it’s late – I’m going to hit the hay.”

“Me too,” said Emma.

******************

The following morning, Lara was livid when she saw their outfits. “Have you taken leave of your senses, girls?” she demanded. “Whatever possessed you to do that to your clothes?”

“It’s the new rules, Mum!” said Emma. “All the girls have to show their panties now. And wear slogans like these.”

“What? That can’t be true!”

“It is!” Poppy insisted. “Call them up if you want. Beardy … I mean, Mr Cawthorne announced it yesterday in assembly.”

“Whyever didn’t you tell me this yesterday?” demanded Lara.

Emma stared at her shoes. “We thought you might get upset,” she said.

“Too right I’m upset!” said Lara. “I’m calling the school right now!”

And she did. They crept to the doorway and listened to her side of the conversation.

“…explain the meaning of this to me right now!

“It’s indecent, that’s what it is! Not to mention dangerous – why, those slogans are practically inviting rape!

“What do you mean, you want them to have sex? They’re too young! And it’s up to me to decide when they should have sex, not the school!

“Well yes I know what the government says, but they’re still too young!

“That won’t do any good and you know it. Protest groups have been lobbying the government for years on issues like these and it hasn’t done any good. That’s why I’m coming to you!

“Well then I’ll just have to take them out of school until you change your mind about that dress code!

“Eh? What are you on about? Truancy? But this would be my decision, not theirs…

“Fair enough then – do your worst…

“Arrested? For truancy? You’ve got to be kidding! They’re fourteen and fifteen years old!

“No I don’t remember that law – sounds like a stupid one. Another stupid one!

“So you’re telling me, if my children don’t show up at school today in outfits that would make a prostitute blush, you’ll have them thrown in jail?

“Unbelievable. Just unbelievable. This is insane.

“Well no I’m not satisfied! Far from it! I suppose I can’t do anything about it though.

“All right then. Goodbye.”

The girls sneaked back into the kitchen and feigned surprise when their mother came back in and said, “Well, I tried, but I’m afraid you’ll just have to go to school like that. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry Mum, we’ll be all right,” said Emma. “All the other girls will be dressed like this too.”

Lara rolled her eyes. “Crazy – just crazy,” she said, stalking out of the room.

Emma poured herself some cereal, and then she caught sight of what Poppy was eating. “More Brantasia?” she said. “You’re just asking for trouble!”

Poppy merely grinned as she popped a spoonful of the brown discs into her mouth.

Emma picked up the packet and read the following: ‘BRANTASIA – the tasty and healthy addition to your breakfast cereal. Sprinkle a handful of Brantasia over your cereal each day, and your bowels will thank you for it! The highly compressed insoluble wheat bran produces large, soft, bulky stools, which expand the colon and ease passage of the stools. It is important to maintain a high level of fluid intake whenever bran products are taken, or the stools may dehydrate and block the intestine. To be taken in moderation – excess consumption of Brantasia may cause massive, involuntary expulsions of fecal matter.’

She put the box down. “Make sure you drink plenty,” she said. “Otherwise you’ll get blocked up.”

Poppy looked worried for a second, then she nodded and poured herself a second glass of orange juice. “I did wake up thirsty during the night,” she said. “I got up and drank two large glasses of water.”

“Glad to hear it,” said Emma. “Have you noticed any … effects yet?”

Poppy nodded. “I feel like I need to take a dump already,” she said. Then she giggled. “I’m so looking forward to this afternoon – I should be REALLY full by the time we get home!”

But she did not hold out until then – not by a long shot…

******************

When they got to school, they found all the girls dressed in extremely skimpy outfits, in compliance with the new dress code. Though nobody was actually having sex in the corridors, there was a lot of heavy petting going on, with boys trying to part some of the girls from what little clothing they had on. April Preston had lost her skirt and panties, and had her top pulled up around her neck (she was not wearing a bra) when Mr Louden, head of the French department, came strolling down the corridor. He coughed politely to draw the attention of Trevor Finch, who was busy thrusting two fingers in and out of April’s cunt.

“Hello sir,” said Trevor, continuing to finger-fuck April. The sixteen-year-old girl seemed torn between her embarrassment at being seen like this, and her arousal from what Trevor was doing to her. She put her face in her hands and uttered a loud, muffled moan.

“Take it upstairs Trevor,” said Mr Louden. “No sex in the corridors.”

“But we’re not having sex, sir,” said Trevor.

“Don’t nit-pick, boy, it’s close enough. Upstairs with you! You’ve got five minutes until assembly – I suggest you use it productively.”

Trevor nodded, then he grinned and, taking April by the hand, he dragged her off down the corridor, leaving her skirt and panties lying on the floor.

Emma met up with her friend Helen, and they critiqued each other’s outfits. Helen, a freckled but attractive auburn-haired girl with an ample bosom, looked very sexy in a low-cut blue dress with a splay skirt that came halfway down her panties. Across her D-cup breasts ran the words ‘SPURT YOUR CUM INSIDE ME’.

“Holy cow,” said Emma. “That’s one of the raciest slogans I’ve seen yet – why did you choose that one?”

“I didn’t get to the shop until this morning,” said Helen glumly. “It was either this, or one that said ‘DO WHATEVER YOU WANT TO ME’. I thought this was marginally less scary.”

Emma shuddered. “Well your dress looks great anyway.”

“Thanks,” said Helen, smiling ruefully. “You look awesome – very sexy. Did you trim those yourself?”

Emma nodded. “I took too much off the skirt,” she said, “but otherwise I’m quite pleased.”

******************

After assembly, Poppy went to her first lesson, Chemistry, feeling very full and uncomfortable. A great pressure was building in her bowels, and she was longing to release it. Twenty minutes into the lesson, she realised she did not have a choice. Her poo was going to come out of her within seconds, whether she wanted it to or not.

Her nipples quickly hardened inside her bra, and goosebumps appeared on her skin despite the warmth of the weather. Blood suffused her cheeks (and other parts), and her breathing quickened. The prospect of shitting herself here, in this classroom, in front of all her classmates, was at once frightening and arousing. Slowly, so as not to look suspicious, she raised her bottom a few inches off her chair, and pulled her skirt up until it was just a belt around her waist.

She made a last-ditch attempt to hold out a little longer, but the pain was just too great, and with a gasp, she relaxed her tightly-clenched anus. What happened next was an experience she would never forget.

Her poo, huge and soft, poured out of her rectum like a snake slithering out of a burrow. The sensation was incredible – Poppy had never known anything like it. Usually her turds were fairly slim and hard, unless she had diarrhoea, and it was quite an effort to expel them. Usually there was a lot of straining, and often a small amount of pain. This, however, could not be more different. There was almost no effort required on her part – her shit was sliding out smoothly and rapidly, making love to her anus with a gentle caress that she found intensely sensual. Her arousal built quickly, bringing her close to orgasm within seconds.

Her panties billowed out at the back as they were filled, expanding as if they were a party balloon being inflated by someone with the lung capacity to do the job in one breath. They swelled steadily, and slowly sagged until the bulge was resting on the chair. With nowhere else to go, poo began to surge forwards, pushing between Poppy’s perineum and the gusset of her panties. Further forward thrust this tongue of shit, sliding across her vaginal opening and then pushing between her labia. As it nudged against her clitoris, she lost it, and moaned loudly in her orgasm as the blood roared in her ears and her body writhed in ecstasy. Inside her shoes, her toes curled up involuntarily. And still she was pooping, but she did not care – in fact, she wished this beautiful sensation would last forever. She just wanted the shit to continue pouring out of her anus like this for as long as possible. “A-a-a-hhhh!” she gasped, as a second orgasm wracked her body.

Her panties were quickly filling up at the front now, thanks to the poo still pushing forwards along her gusset, but at the back there was no more room, and so her shit started spilling out of both sides through the leg-bands, and out of the top of her waistband at the back. The new dress code stated that panties must cover no more than fifty percent of the buttocks, so the pair that she had chosen to wear today were not the most capacious.

After a third orgasm, the flow finally stopped, leaving Poppy breathless, her eyes shining. It had seemed like she had been pooping for ages and ages, but in reality it was less than half a minute. During this time, of course, half of her classmates had seen what she was doing, and they had alerted the other half, so that now the entire class was staring at her, the ones furthest away craning their necks to see.

Miss Cavenaugh had marched over and was now staring grimly at Poppy, her arms folded across her chest. “Explain yourself, Poppy Greaves!” she said.

Poppy was at a loss to do so. “I’m sorry!” she said. “I just couldn’t hold it. But I just have to say, that was the most amazing feeling … it was like … I don’t know. But it was the best thing ever!”

Some of her classmates were looking revolted – others were simply indignant – one or two looked curious. “Miss, tell her to get out of here before she stinks the whole room out!” complained one girl.

“Actually it hardly seems to smell at all,” remarked a boy sitting close to Poppy. “I’d like to know what the hell she’s been eating to produce this kind of result.”

“Brantasia,” said Poppy promptly. “I’d recommend it to anyone!”

“I’m sure you would,” said Miss Cavenaugh sternly. “But perhaps you’ll feel differently once you’ve been sitting in your excrement for an hour.”

“Oh Miss Cavenaugh, you can’t be serious!” exclaimed one of the girls. “The smell!”

“As Harry said, it really doesn’t smell that much,” said Miss Cavenaugh. “But it will take her forever to clean up, and I’m not having her taking that time out of my class. Sit down, Poppy!”

Poppy slowly sat herself down on her chair, and her poo squished and oozed around her buttocks and over her pussy. She shuddered as she felt it lick her clitoris like a tongue, and she very nearly came again.

“I’m never going to touch Brantasia again,” announced Meg Robertson, a slim brunette sitting at the front of the class.

“Well Meg,” said Miss Cavenaugh, “to be fair, it would probably help you with that acne problem. The wheat bran contains selenium, which is very good for the skin.”

As the lesson progressed, Poppy could not help squirming and writhing stealthily behind her desk. While she was supposed to be answering test questions on her computer terminal, she was in actuality shuddering subtly with her fourth orgasm. Neither this one nor the previous three had required her to touch her clit with her fingers.

A pointed cough from Miss Cavenaugh brought her back to reality, and she rattled through the questions as quickly as possible. Being quite as intelligent as her sister, she found this subject easy, and despite her distraction she figured she had done well.

When the bell rang to signal the end of the lesson, Poppy saved her answers, logged out, and then got to her feet rather stickily. The harsh reality of her situation was beginning to sink in, and she looked around at her classmates to see if she still had any friends among them.

For Poppy was a popular girl, by and large. Though her parents eschewed many mod-cons, they were pretty well-off, and she never lacked for the latest fashions. Her slim figure and pretty face, not to mention her bubbly personality, assured her of admirers among boys and girls alike. Being unpopular, therefore, was not something she had really considered as a possibility.

She considered it now. The looks she was getting were unfamiliar and unpleasant. But not all of them. Ronnie Dakers smiled at her as he passed. “You’re crazy, Poppy,” he said. “But funnily enough, that was kind of hot.”

Fran Adams was less kind. “You just lost ALL my respect, Poopy,” she said. “Yes that’s right, POOPY. That’s what we’ll all call you from now on. Bye-bye, Poopy.” With a disdainful sniff, she walked off.

“Bye Poopy,” said Rita, a friend of Fran’s.

“What the hell?” said Lottie, one of Poppy’s friends. She looked quite upset. “Have you gone completely mad?”

Poppy smiled apologetically. “I ate a lot of Brantasia,” she said. “It worked more quickly than I thought it would.”

Lottie sighed. “You’ll never live this down, Poppy,” she said.

“Maybe,” said Poppy. “But I’ll tell you, Lottie, it was worth it just to experience that … that feeling. It was like the greatest pleasure I’ve ever known!”

Lottie stared at her, mystified. “Too weird,” she said. “I’ve tried Brantasia – it didn’t have quite that effect on me though.”

“Did you eat two full bowls of it?” asked Poppy.

Lottie’s eyes widened. “You’re crazy – do you know how strong that stuff is? No wonder you shit yourself!”

“But Lottie – it feels great!” said Poppy. “You should seriously think about it.”

Lottie shook her head and walked off. Never mind, thought Poppy to herself. Soon I’ll be a pop star, and they can all just bite me.

As she was leaving her desk, Miss Cavenaugh stopped her. “What about that?” asked the teacher, pointing at the piles of poo on her chair. “You made that mess, Poppy – you’ll just have to clean it up.”

Poppy sighed. “What with?” she asked.

“Take it to the toilet with you, and wash it,” said Miss Cavenaugh.

Laughter and jeers followed her all the way as she carried a double handful of poo to the toilets, but she kept her head held high, and focused instead on the delightful sensations arising from the constant rubbing of her poo on her clitoris as she walked. Once she reached the toilet, she endured more taunts and insults from several of the girls in there, but she locked herself in a stall and after a few minutes she heard the other girls leave. She sat down carefully on the toilet seat, her bulging panties sagging close to the water beneath.

Then she heard someone enter. A voice called out, “Poppy, are you all right?”

“Emma!” said Poppy happily. “Thank God it’s you.” She unlocked her door, and Emma squeezed into the small cubicle. “Look!” She stood up and turned around.

“Holy crap!” exclaimed Emma. “That’s a huge amount! That Brantasia must really expand!”

Poppy nodded, and giggled. “Oh Em, the feeling was unbelievable. I’ve never felt such an awesome sensation of pleasure in my life. It was like the best orgasm ever!”

Emma chuckled. “Well you’ll be paying for it for a long time, I think.” She sniffed the air. “Hey, it doesn’t smell too bad, does it?”

“I know,” said Poppy. She sighed. “I suppose I’d better clean up then.”

“Seems a waste of all that shit,” said Emma slyly.

“What do you mean?” asked Poppy, instantly intrigued.

“I mean that I want to see you play with it,” said Emma. “I want to see you cover yourself with it.”

“But Emma – we have to get to class!” said Poppy.

“Not me,” said Emma. “I’ve got a free period.”

“Well I don’t,” said Poppy. “Although I suppose I could justify being a little late…”

“That’s the spirit,” said Emma, grinning. “Now take your clothes off, all apart from your panties.”

Poppy shyly took off her tank top, followed by her bra. Then she lifted her skirt upwards – fortunately, being Lycra, it stretched enough to fit past her breasts and shoulders. She sat down carefully, and slipped off her shoes and ankle-socks. Emma smiled, then took these garments out of the cubicle and placed them on the edge of a washbasin. When she returned, Poppy had already fished a handful of shit out of her panties and was rubbing it into her left breast.

Emma watched, intrigued, and her hand drifted to the front of her panties. While Poppy went back for more poo and continued coating her breasts with the soft brown mess, Emma massaged her clitoris through its hood. She quickly became very wet, and she dipped a couple of fingers inside her vagina, coating them with her slimy juice. Watching Poppy smear shit up and down her torso was intensely erotic, she was surprised to discover, and it did not take long before she was shaking with her orgasm.

“Oh man,” she breathed. “Poppy, you are so sexy! I’m amazed I never thought so before, but you really are.”

Poppy smiled. “Thanks!” she said. “You’re pretty sexy yourself, standing there masturbating. Want me to lick your pussy?”

Emma nodded. She stepped up on to the seat of the toilet, placing her feet carefully, one between Poppy’s legs and the other behind her back, so that she was straddling her sister’s head. Then she squatted slightly, bringing her pussy down to Poppy’s upturned face.

Poppy opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue in time for it to meet the wet cotton between Emma’s legs. She licked and sucked on the damp material, and Emma closed her eyes, smiling with pleasure. Then she gasped as Poppy pulled her panties to one side and began to lick her clitoris directly.

“My, you’re adventurous,” she murmured. “Nasty little slut. Yes, suck on my clit, Poppy. Ohhhhhh, yesss… Now stick your tongue up inside me.”

Poppy did not hesitate. She slid her tongue along the groove between Emma’s labia, and then pushed it into her sister’s cunt, causing Emma to squeal with excitement. After a few moments of this, Poppy returned to licking Emma’s clitoris, but she slid two fingers (of her clean hand) inside Emma’s vagina and started to finger-fuck her even as she licked and sucked.

“Oh God, Poppy, you have a magic tongue!” gasped Emma. “Thank you baby – I love you! You dirty little shit-slut…” A moment later she was bucking in another orgasm.

Poppy removed her face from Emma’s pussy. “I love the names you call me,” she said shyly. “It’s a pity there isn’t a slogan saying ‘I’M A SHIT SLUT’ … I’d wear one of those.”

As Emma stepped down from the toilet seat, Poppy continued to pack shit from her panties on to her breasts and belly, and even smeared some up and down her thighs. Eventually, when her panties were practically empty, she stood up and took them off.

Emma grinned evilly. “Lick them,” she said.

Poppy looked anxiously at her panties, completely brown now and coated all over with little chunks of poo. “Must I?” she asked nervously.

“No sweetie, of course not,” said Emma affectionately. “Not if you don’t want to.”

Poppy hesitantly lifted her panties up to her face, and tentatively stuck out her tongue. The tip came into contact with the messy fabric, and then she withdrew it. Her expression grew thoughtful. “Not much of a taste,” she said, and she went back for a more extensive lick. This time her tongue retrieved a tiny chunk of poo, which she drew back into her mouth. She sucked on it, squished it against the roof of her mouth, chewed it, and swallowed it. “Not too bad really!” she said. “I’m surprised.”

“Well it doesn’t smell much either,” said Emma. “Perhaps the bran helps the smell. Or dilutes it.”

Poppy took a larger lick from inside the back of her panties, scooping up several small pieces of shit. She chewed them up and swallowed them, then stuck out her brown tongue to show Emma.

“Eww!” said Emma, recoiling and laughing. “You’ll have to brush your teeth pretty thoroughly, babe, or you’ll have the most awful breath!”

Poppy nodded, and continued to lick out her panties as Emma watched in fascination. Then Poppy pulled a large chunk of shit off her breast and took a bite out of it.

“Wow,” said Emma, watching her sister chew her own shit. “You’re not going to eat it all, are you?”

Poppy shook her head. “It’s kind of making me feel queasy,” she said. “I’d better stop here.”

“Okay,” said Emma. “Well, hold still – I’m going to pee on you.”

Poppy smiled and leaned back a little. Emma held her panties to one side and spread her legs, straddling Poppy as closely as possible without getting any of Poppy’s poop on herself. Then she relaxed, and a stream of pee hissed out and splashed over Poppy’s shit-caked breasts. After a moment, Poppy leaned forwards and stuck her open mouth under the stream. It quickly filled with Emma’s urine, and she swallowed.

“You are without doubt the filthiest, nastiest slut in the world,” said Emma, with a hint almost of pride in her sister’s accomplishment. She stopped peeing, and replaced her panties over her pussy. “I’ve half a mind to flush your clothes down the toilet and make you go back to class just as you are.”

Poppy stared at her fearfully. “Don’t do that!” she said.

Emma smiled. “Don’t worry, baby,” she said. “Come on – wipe all that mess off and then come out to the basins to wash yourself.”

“Okay, but let me come first,” said Poppy. She started rubbing her pussy, then, on an impulse, collected a handful of shit from her belly and squished it into her labia. Rubbing the mass of poo hard against her clit, she closed her eyes and started moaning in pleasure. Soon she was shuddering with her climax.

The clean-up took the entire remainder of the lesson. Poppy was shaking her head as she finally put her cleaned but still wet panties back on. “I’m going to be in SO much trouble,” she sighed.

She went straight to her fourth lesson – Maths, with Mr Allbright. Her classmates wanted to know what she had been doing all through English, but all she would tell them was that the clean-up had taken longer than she expected. They were still teasing her, of course, but she hardly cared. She had made a new discovery – she was a shit-slut, and she loved it.

******************

She ate lunch with Emma and Helen. When she opened her lunch box, Emma nearly choked on her drink. “You brought Brantasia?” she asked incredulously.

“And sandwiches!” replied Poppy defensively.

“What are you going to eat them with? You don’t have any milk,” said Emma.

“I’ll eat them dry,” said Poppy.

“Well for goodness sake have lots to drink, then,” said Emma. “Get plenty of water from the fountain after lunch.”

“What’s the deal with the Brantasia?” Helen wanted to know.

“She’s discovered,” said Emma quickly, before Poppy could reply, “that eating a lot of Brantasia makes taking a dump feel nice. The only problem is, it also makes her shit like a hippopotamus. She, shall we say, ‘lost control’ during first lesson today.”

“Ouch!” said Helen, sympathetically. “Poor thing – you must have taken some flak for that.”

“I did,” admitted Poppy. “But it’s okay – it was worth it.”

“Worth it?” asked Helen, puzzled. “What could possibly make shitting yourself in class worthwhile?”

“Multiple orgasms,” said Poppy.

“Poppy!” hissed Emma, looking around nervously. “Keep your voice down.”

“Really?” said Helen, intrigued. “Just from pooping?”

Poppy nodded. “Seriously – you should try it. You both should. It’ll make your toes curl.”

“Just shut up and eat your Brantasia,” said Emma, amused despite herself. Toes curl? Her toes had never curled during an orgasm – was she missing something?

******************

By the end of school that day, Poppy was amazed to find she was desperate to poop again. She held out, however, until she and Emma got home. Their parents were both out, so they jumped into Poppy’s bed together and stripped each other down to their panties. As they leaned together for their first kiss – at least as lovers – Poppy smiled happily into her sister’s eyes. “I love you,” she said.

“I love you too, baby,” said Emma, and she pressed her lips against Poppy’s. Their tongues met, and they explored each other’s mouths tenderly. After a minute or so, they broke off.

“I’m about to shit,” said Poppy, grimacing with the pain of desperation.

“Go for it,” said Emma.

With an expression of great relief, Poppy relaxed her anus, and then she moaned with pleasure as a veritable flood of semi-soft shit poured smoothly out into her panties. “Oh my God,” she whispered. “This is the best feeling in the world, Em.”

Emma felt slightly put out. Pooping for her was a smelly, disgusting, unpleasant process which she did not enjoy at all. And here was her sister, quivering beneath her in the throes of orgasm because of essentially the same process. “That does it,” she said, “I’m going to start eating Brantasia.”

Poppy beamed up at her sister. “Thank you!” she said. “I so want to share this experience with you!”

“Yeah, well, I’m going to make damn sure I don’t shit myself in class,” said Emma. Pushing back the covers, she turned herself around so that she could watch Poppy filling her panties. Already she could see poo oozing out of the waistband and leg-bands. The material at the front was bulging with shit, and since Poppy’s legs were slightly apart, she could see the thick sausage of poo creeping upwards along the gusset, pushed from beneath by the pressure of the extruding poo. Poppy was lying on her back, so there was no room for the poo to go except upwards and outwards. It was going in both directions, and making quite a mess.

Poppy found herself staring at Emma’s panties, so she lifted Emma’s left leg and moved it across to the other side of her head, so that Emma was now straddling her face. Pulling Emma’s panties aside, Poppy started licking at her sister’s clit. Emma moaned and settled herself down, lying on top of Poppy but facing in the opposite direction. She ground her pussy into Poppy’s mouth, thinking to herself that she really ought to shave her pussy in order to make Poppy’s experience less, well, hairy.

Then she jumped, or at least twitched, in surprise as she felt Poppy’s tongue licking her anus. This was a new, and not altogether unpleasant, sensation. She smiled happily as she felt two of Poppy’s fingers slide into her vagina. Looking down, she realised that Poppy had stopped defecating. There was truly an enormous amount – most of it had oozed out and built up between Poppy’s legs, but there was still a lot contained in her gusset and in the front of her panties. There was even a fair amount in the back, between and below Poppy’s buttocks where the mattress was not pressing so firmly against her. Out of a sense of wanting to return a favour, Emma gingerly pressed the palm of her hand against the bulge around Poppy’s pussy. Pressing it inwards, she started to rub the squishy mass in circles over Poppy’s clitoris and labia. This elicited sharp gasps from Poppy, which Emma judged meant that she was doing something right.

Poppy continued to lick Emma’s anus, even to the extent of pushing her tongue a short way inside. “Careful,” Emma playfully warned her. “I might just take a dump in your mouth.”

“I would … eat it if you did,” said Poppy breathlessly.

Emma’s arousal heightened at these words. She did, in truth, need to poop, and this seemed as good a time as any. So she strained, and strained, and after half a minute or so, the tip of a dark brown turd began to emerge from her anus. Poppy drew back and watched with a mixture of disgust and fascination. It smelled awful, but nevertheless, when it had reached a length of four inches or so, she opened her mouth and moved in to press her lips against Emma’s expanded sphincter, with the poo sliding between her lips as she did so. She licked the tip, and then sucked on it as if it were a lollipop. It tasted even fouler than it smelled, but out of love for Emma she endured it and continued to take it into her mouth as it grew longer and longer. Soon her mouth was full, and she was obliged to chew up and swallow some of the hard poo. Emma pinched it off and then climbed off the bed. Poppy, with her mouth half open and packed full of poo, raised a quizzical eyebrow.

“I want to take photos of you,” said Emma with a grin. “Stay exactly like that – don’t swallow any.”

Poppy wanted to reply that she had already swallowed some, but she was unable to speak in her current situation. She felt awfully exposed, and nervous about having pictures taken of her in this state, but she fought down an impulse to cover her breasts, and simply waited.

Emma fetched her digital camera from her room, and snapped off a few photos of Poppy from various angles. Then she had a truly wicked idea, and a smile came to her lips. “Okay Poppy,” she said, “you can eat it now.”

Poppy took a while to get through all the shit in her mouth, and when she had finished, she retched once, and then hurriedly propped herself up on her elbows as, with a mighty heave, she threw up the entire contents of her stomach. A tidal wave of yellowish-brown vomit cascaded over her breasts and surged over her belly, finally pouring over her bulging panties and starting to form a pool between her legs. Other pools formed along both sides of her torso as her vomit slid slowly off her breasts and belly.

“Wow!” said Emma. “Are you okay?”

Poppy panted for a moment, then nodded. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to puke – I tried not to.”

“It’s okay,” Emma reassured her. “I don’t blame you. I guess we should cut this short, huh?”

Poppy shrugged. “Only if you’re grossed out. If there’s other things you want to do, I’m game.”

Emma smiled. “Then how would you like to lose your virginity?”

Poppy’s brow furrowed. “You going to call a boy?”

“Nope,” said Emma. “I figured you could lose your virginity some other way.”

“To one of the dogs?” asked Poppy, looking a little worried.

“No!” said Emma, though as she thought about it, this did seem like a pretty cool idea. To have her sister lose her virginity to a dog … while she, Emma, captured the event on camera…

“No,” she said again, “that wasn’t my idea. I was thinking you could lose your virginity to my shit. I’ve still got plenty more to come, I think, and it’s pretty hard.”

Poppy shivered nervously. “You want to put it inside me?” she inquired.

“That’s the idea,” said Emma. “What do you think?”

Poppy considered it for a moment, then nodded. “It’s horribly degrading, really, thinking about it,” she said, “but I guess that’s why it sounds like fun. Go on then – go for it. I have one condition, though.”

“Oh? What’s that?” asked Emma.

“That you first do the shit in your panties,” said Poppy, grinning naughtily.

Emma pouted, but then she smiled. “All right,” she said.

“And kiss me while you’re doing it,” added Poppy.

Emma regarded Poppy’s lips, streaked with shit and vomit, and her nose wrinkled. “I’m not sure I’m ready for that,” she said.

“Please?” begged Poppy.

Emma took a couple more photos, then she reluctantly came over to the bed. She had absolutely no desire to get shit in her mouth – her sister was the shit slut, not her – but on the other hand Poppy was being an absolute trooper here, and this seemed like a good way of showing her appreciation…

They kissed. Poppy’s shitty tongue rushed out to meet Emma’s, and Emma grimaced as she tasted her own shit. Her stomach heaved, and she pulled back…

“On me! Puke on me!” said Poppy.

Vomit surged up Emma’s gullet and gushed from her mouth, hitting Poppy full in the face. Poppy opened her mouth, which quickly filled with Emma’s orange-yellow puke. Emma heaved again, and this time threw up all over Poppy’s chest. The fourteen-year-old girl swallowed the vomit in her mouth, then massaged the rest into her breasts and belly, sighing with pleasure as she undulated her hips, causing the poo in her panties to caress her clitoris deliciously.

“Ugh,” said Emma, wiping her mouth. “You sure you still want to do this?”

Poppy nodded, and smiled happily. “This is the most intense experience of my life,” she said. “I don’t want it to stop.”

Emma smiled, then she strained. Gritting her teeth, she bore down hard, and her anus flowered open to permit the passage of a large, very solid turd. She exhaled sharply, then took a deep breath and pushed hard. The turd started to emerge, slowly – a monster, more than an inch and a half in diameter. Emma’s panties tented outwards, and still she pushed. Then the widest part of the poo popped out of her, and the rest slid through more easily. The bulbous head of the turd was now pressing hard against the fabric of Emma’s panties, and she pushed them down her hips a little to allow more room. A final push sent another couple of very firm inches out into her panties, and then it broke off, and a rush of softer poo followed. Figuring she might as well finish what she started, Emma continued to poop into her panties, even when it turned to semi-liquid which soaked through the material almost immediately.

Poppy grinned. “That was quite a lot!” she said.

Emma nodded, panting. “Hard work though!” she said. She pulled her panties down to mid-thigh, and fished out the first turd she had produced – the hard one. It was now coated with gooey diarrhoea, but that was okay – it would be a good lubricant. “Spread your legs, Poppy,” she said.

Poppy complied, somewhat nervously, and then she pulled the gusset of her panties to the side. “Be gentle,” she said.

Emma pulled her panties back up, the poo inside squishing against her buttocks and pussy, then knelt down next to the bed and placed the bulbous head of the poo at the entrance to Poppy’s vagina. Then she pushed forwards, and the poo began to slide in. Poppy winced, but she neither complained nor attempted to stop this obscene invasion of her body. The head disappeared, and Poppy gasped in pain. Emma paused, then continued to push. She was encountering resistance, so she withdrew slightly and then pushed forward again. She did this a few times, and then found that she could slide it deeper inside. The turd was a good eight inches in length, and now only three inches were left outside. She thrust in and out, pushing a little deeper each time, until she bottomed out with just one inch left outside Poppy’s cunt. Poppy, meanwhile, was masturbating for all she was worth, and soon she was shuddering in a new orgasm.

Emma left the turd in place, and simply replaced Poppy’s gusset (complete with its sausage of poo) over the top of Poppy’s vagina. “What a disgusting slut you are,” she said huskily, rubbing at her own pussy. “Fucking my shit like that. Not to mention eating it too.”

“Ohhh yes!” gasped Poppy, still in the throes of her orgasm. “I’m a filthy disgusting shit-slut!”

With her free hand, Emma reached around behind her bottom and started squeezing the poo in her panties against her bottom. It actually felt rather nice, but she did not want to tell her sister that.

Then they heard footsteps on the stairs, and both of them froze in panic. “What do we do?” Poppy whispered urgently.

There was a knock at the door. “Don’t come in!” said Poppy.

“We’re not dressed!” said Emma.

“Oh,” came their father’s voice. “Well, don’t forget your chores.”

Both girls heaved a sigh of relief as his footsteps retreated. “Quick,” said Emma. “Let’s get all your bedding into the bathtub. We can get all the poo and puke off there, and then we’ll put it all in the washing machine, along with our panties.”

“No – wait,” said Poppy. “I’d really like to go to bed tonight in these same messy sheets.”

“But they’ll stink!” said Emma. “What if Mum comes in?”

“We won’t give her a reason to,” said Poppy. “Come on – let’s just strip off our panties and shower. Then we’ll put on some clean clothes, and go and do our chores.”

Emma shrugged. “Suit yourself,” she said. She stood up. “Want me to pee on you before we shower?”

“Always!” said Poppy with a smile.

So Emma climbed on to the bed and stood straddling Poppy. She peed through her panties, showering her sister with her golden urine. Poppy rubbed it into her breasts and face, and then licked her fingers. Then she herself peed, soaking her panties and the bedding between her legs. She was thrilled to be wallowing in her own (and her sister’s) filth, and loved the thought of leaving her bed like this. Somewhat reluctantly, she pulled her panties down, took them off, and then emptied their contents on to her pussy. Rubbing her shit well into her labia, she then scraped it off with a regretful sigh and climbed out of bed. Leaning over the bed, she wiped herself down with her hands, from her face down to her thighs, so that any excess filth would not travel with her to the shower.

“Come on then,” said Emma, who had been waiting patiently but a little anxiously. She turned towards the door.

“Wait,” said Poppy. “What are you going to do with all that?” She pointed at the bulge in the back of Emma’s panties.

“Dump it down the toilet, I suppose,” said Emma.

“Oh, please don’t,” said Poppy. “Dump it on my bed.”

Emma nodded, then she took off her panties and carried them carefully to the bed. There she upended them and shook them so that several lumps of soft poo fell out on to the spot where the small of Poppy’s back had been.

Naked, they sneaked out of Poppy’s room, shutting the door behind them, and then dashed into the bathroom and locked the door.

“Whew!” said Emma. “Okay, let’s get clean.”

“Um,” said Poppy, looking down at her pussy, “I seem to still have your shit inside me.”

“Oh,” said Emma. “Well, you could squeeze it out into the toilet.”

Poppy shook her head. “No,” she said. “It’s yours, and it took my virginity. I want to keep it inside me for a while, and treasure it.”

Emma smiled. “Okay then – you think you can hold it in while we shower?”

“I think so,” said Poppy.

Minutes later, as they were soaping themselves clean, Emma grinned suddenly as she looked at her sister’s hairy pussy. “Hey,” she said, “I have an idea. Let’s shave each other.”

Poppy thought about this for a moment. “Sure,” she said. “Whatever you want, my love.”

******************

That evening, Emma somewhat reluctantly joined Poppy in a late supper of Brantasia. She was more fond of sugar-frosted cereals, having a sweeter tooth than her sister, but she found that plenty of sugar helped it go down. At Poppy’s insistence, she piled her bowl high with the little brown discs, but she still did not have as much as Poppy.

By the time she climbed into her smelly, wet, messy bed, wearing just a pair of panties, Poppy was desperate to poop again. With a happy sigh, she turned over on to her front and let it flood out into her panties. As it filled out the back and then poured down her gusset over her pussy, she had four orgasms without even touching herself.

******************

Friday morning saw Emma sneaking into her sister’s room early, wearing just a long t-shirt. She was desperate to poop and felt that Poppy might be upset if she pooped in the toilet and not on her little sister. Recoiling a little at the smell, she nevertheless pulled back Poppy’s covers, then she squatted over her sleeping sister’s breasts. Poppy was a notoriously heavy sleeper – it was unlikely even this would wake her up.

Emma was expecting this to feel good, having heard Poppy endlessly raving about how nice it felt the day before, but she was unprepared for just how amazing and beautiful the sensation really was. It was almost a religious experience – tears of joy sprang to her eyes as a thick, soft rope of poo rapidly extruded from her anus, smoothly stroking the inside of her rectum like the gentlest lover she could imagine. Emma was a virgin, but she had once stolen a carrot from the kitchen and fucked herself with it, so she knew how nice it felt to have something slide in and out of her vagina – but this feeling was in a league of its own. It contrasted starkly with the slightly painful poo she had done yesterday into Poppy’s mouth and then finished in her own panties.

She reached down and stroked her clitoris, and came almost immediately. Then the flow of shit stopped, and her feeling of disappointment was almost overwhelming. She had wanted that sensation to last for much longer!

She turned around, and smiled at the large pile of poo sprawled over Poppy’s chest. Her right breast was completely covered, as was most of her left breast, though her left nipple was still partially exposed. For good measure, Emma lifted her foot on to the bed, leaned forwards, and peed on to Poppy’s shit-filled panties. The sodden material turned transparent, revealing the mass of shit inside, covering Poppy’s pussy.

She pulled Poppy’s blankets back over her, and then went back to her own room.

******************

For breakfast the girls each had a full bowl of Brantasia. This time, however, Lara came in and saw what they were doing. “Good heavens!” she said. “That stuff’s pretty powerful, you know – I don’t think you’re supposed to have that much.”

“I’ve been eating it for a couple of days, Mum,” said Poppy, “and it’s done me a world of good. I feel so much healthier.”

“Really?” said Lara. “Your father swears by it, of course, but he certainly doesn’t have that much. He says it makes him poop like an elephant.”

“It does,” agreed Poppy. “But you’ve no idea how good it feels, Mum – there’s absolutely no discomfort at all – no straining, no gritting of teeth…”

“All right all right,” said Lara, her ears turning pink. “That’s quite graphic enough, thanks – I get the picture. Well if you are finding it beneficial, then that’s fine I suppose, but do be careful.”

Emma nodded. “We’re taking care to drink plenty, so it doesn’t block us up.”

“Good, good,” said Lara, staring at Emma’s dress. “Oh dear, Emma, that label’s horrible!”

Emma looked down at the slogan running across her breasts. Since the labels were non-removable, or at least extremely hard to remove, they had both bought a few more of them at the school shop. Today’s read: ‘SUCK MY NIPPLES’. “Sorry Mum,” she said apologetically. “They’re all like this, or worse.”

Poppy’s read: ‘IMPREGNATE ME’. Lara groaned at the sight of it, and turned away, shaking her head.

Both girls had trimmed dresses the previous evening. Emma had turned a long flowery dress into a microdress showing just over an inch of her panties at the front. The hem was very neatly done, so that it looked as if the dress had simply been made that short. Poppy, on the other hand, had not bothered hemming hers at all, so her denim minidress had a rather ragged hem that showed three inches of her panties at the front. She had cut it asymmetrically, so that at the back the hem was pretty much on the same level as the top of her panties. Lara had not yet seen this, and Poppy intended to take great care not to turn her back on her mother until she was safely at school. The reason she had cut her dress so severely was that she fully intended to fill her panties in class again today, and she did not want to have to lift her dress beforehand. Also, she did not want to conceal her accident, even slightly. She wanted everyone to know that she was a shit-slut…

After the girls had left for school with their father, Lara regarded the box of Brantasia thoughtfully. There was something suspicious about the girls’ behaviour – what were Poppy and Emma up to? It obviously had something to do with the Brantasia – did it have some side-effect that they were not telling her about? Did it give them some kind of high?

This was a worrying thought. Drugs were rampant in schools today, Lara knew, and although she was sure her daughters were too sensible to try drugs, this cereal might start them on that path, if indeed it was getting them high.

The only way to find out what it did, Lara decided, was to try it herself. So she poured out a large bowl, drowned it in milk, and ate every last bit…

******************

During her second class of the day, Poppy was sitting with her hand between her legs, pushing Emma’s still-firm turd in and out of her vagina through the material of her panties, when the urge to defecate came upon her suddenly. With a little squeal of delight she lifted her bottom off her seat and let the soft shit pour into her panties. Her first orgasm came as the vile mess, creeping forward, met her clitoris, and another two followed soon after.

“Miss Peebles!” complained a girl sitting close to Poppy. “Poppy’s shit herself again. And she’s getting off on it!”

The young biology teacher looked at Poppy in surprise. “Are you all right, Poppy?”

“Yes Miss Peebles,” said Poppy breathlessly. “Sorry – it’s the Brantasia – it doesn’t give me a lot of warning.”

“It apparently gives you a lot of pleasure, though,” remarked the teacher, a pretty blonde in her twenties.

“Yes Miss Peebles! I just had three orgasms without even touching myself!”

A murmur ran through the room, and Miss Peebles coughed. “Yes, well, we’re all very happy for you I’m sure, but perhaps you’d like to go and clean up…?”

“If it’s all right with you, Miss Peebles,” said Poppy, “I’ll just sit here until the end of the lesson. I don’t want to miss anything. And it doesn’t really smell.”

“Suit yourself,” said Miss Peebles. “Where were we? Ah yes…”

Twenty minutes later, there was another orgasmic moan … but this one did not come from Poppy. All eyes turned in surprise to Poppy’s friend Lottie, who was looking rather sheepish as she hovered over her seat, her panties overflowing with shit.

“Um, I decided to try Brantasia last night,” she said. “After Poppy said how nice it felt…”

Miss Peebles arched an eyebrow. “And did the experience meet with your expectations?”

“Oh yes, Miss! It’s … the feeling’s like … well, it’s amazing!” Lottie blushed.

The teacher rolled her eyes. “I suppose you want to carry on sitting there until the lesson too?”

Lottie hung her head in embarrassment. “Yes please Miss,” she said in a small voice. She lowered herself back down on to her seat, her bottom and pussy squishing into the huge mass of shit, and she gasped loudly and shuddered as another orgasm washed over her.

******************

Emma, by contrast, had no desire to shit herself in class, so when a powerful pressure suddenly built in her bowels, she put up her hand immediately. “Mr Evans?”

“What is it?” demanded the teacher, annoyed at being interrupted.

“Sir, can I please go to the toilet?” Emma asked desperately, fighting hard against the mounting force threatening to explode out of her anus.

“The lesson has only just started, Miss Greaves. Whyever didn’t you go before?”

“I … didn’t need to go before!” managed Emma through clenched teeth. “Please – if I don’t, I’m going to have an accident!”

“Oh very well,” said Mr Evans disapprovingly. “Hurry up.”

Emma got up from her seat and took a few tottering steps to the door before she lost the battle. With a gasp of pain, she clutched at her abdomen and bent forward, steadying herself on a nearby desk with her free hand. Her tiny microdress, already exposing over an inch of her panties at the back, rose up to reveal at least half of her buttocks. With a whimper, Emma finally unclenched her anus, unable to compete with the force of the huge quantity of shit pushing through her rectum.

Her classmates and Mr Evans all gaped in astonishment as Emma’s panties billowed outwards, quickly filling up with several pounds of soft poo. Emma, mortified beyond words, nevertheless could not help squealing as a river of shit surged over her pussy, pushing between her labia and sliding over her clitoris, bringing her almost instantly to a knee-trembling climax. As more shit poured out of her anus and pushed the rest forwards and outwards, she moaned loudly in another orgasm even as large chunks of shit, oozing out of the sides of her panties, splashed down on to the backs of her legs.

“Miss Greaves!” exclaimed Mr Evans in disbelief. “Whatever’s the matter with you, girl?”

The spell broken, Emma’s classmates burst out laughing. Emma tried to answer the teacher’s question, but she was too busy having a third orgasm. Eventually she calmed down enough to talk.

“I’m so sorry, sir!” she said in abject embarrassment. “It’s this new cereal I’ve been having – Brantasia – it’s making me poop a lot.”

“And apparently without warning!” said Mr Evans. “Might I suggest a change of cereal?”

“When it gives her multiple orgasms?” said Eric, the boy sitting at the desk on which Emma was leaning. “I’d say that’s unlikely!”

Emma blushed, but she knew this to be true. How could she give up Brantasia now?

“Well, I suppose you’d better go and clean up,” said Mr Evans.

Emma nodded, and slowly walked towards the door, shit dropping from the edges of her panties. As she walked, the shit pressing against her clitoris moved back and forth, bringing her to yet more orgasms. The class giggled in unison as Emma’s excited moans and gasps continued to echo through the corridor for at least half a minute after she had left the room.

“I’ve got to try some of that Brantasia!” said a busty girl named Alison Winslow.

“Are you crazy?” said Alison’s friend Sonya. “You want to shit yourself in class?”

“Well no, but the multiple orgasms do sound nice…”

Once locked in a stall in the girls’ toilet, Emma stripped off her microdress and shoved her hand into the front of her panties. Her fingers sank into a mass of shit as she probed for her clitoris. Soon she was shaking in fresh orgasms.

“Emma? Is that you?”

Emma snapped out of her orgasmic trance. “Poppy?”

“Yeah – I’m just cleaning myself up – I had an accident during the last lesson.”

“Never mind that,” said Emma, panting breathlessly. “Just get your arse in here. I’ve got some lovely shit for you.”

“Oh but Emma!” whined Poppy, “I’m almost clean!”

“NOW, Poppy,” said Emma sternly.

Poppy giggled. “Okay,” she said.

******************

Lara Greaves paused in the middle of weeding the flower bed that ran alongside the back lawn. She suddenly needed to defecate – badly! For a moment she considered waiting until she had at least finished this side of the lawn, but then an especially powerful cramp caused her to gasp in pain. She got to her feet hastily and started to run for the house, but then she had to stop as the pressure became so intense that she would surely make a mess in her panties unless she clenched as hard as ever she could…

But it was no good, and with an exclamation of shock and surprise, Lara felt a small quantity of shit worm its way out of her anus and into her panties – despite the fact that she was still clenching her anus and buttocks tightly shut. Still the worm slithered out of her rectum – she seemed powerless to prevent it. Her aching buttock muscles tiring, she relaxed them a little, and the worm thickened to become a snake. Defeated, and feeling utterly disgusted with herself, she relaxed completely, figuring she was now messy anyway so what difference did it make?

Soft shit now poured out of her anus and mounded up in the back of her full-cut cotton panties. “Oh my!” she exclaimed as she realised the sensation was not at all what she had expected. Far from being a painful effort, this was almost … pleasant.

She immediately repented of this thought. “This is disgusting!” she scolded herself. “You’re a grown woman, Lara – how could you let this happen?”

The back of her panties started sagging lower and lower, and she suddenly worried that they would fall down. And still she was pooping! It was incredible. For a moment her sense of wonder displaced her disgust, and she found herself becoming quite curious as to just how long this would last.

When the flow stopped, for a moment she felt a pang of disappointment, but then her sense of dignity took over and she shuddered with horror at what she had just done. Taking a few steps towards the house, she stumbled as her shit nudged forwards along her gusset, slid over her clitoris, and brought her to instantaneous orgasm. She moaned out loud, and then slapped a hand over her mouth and began to run. A few more steps, however, and another orgasm brought her to her knees. Panting and moaning in ecstasy, she rolled over on to her back, pulled her dress up around her waist, and started rubbing her pussy through her panties, working her shit into every crevice. With her other hand she reached into the back of her panties and pulled out a large handful of shit, which she mashed into her left breast, smearing it into the fabric of her cotton sundress.

“What’s the matter with me?” she wondered in distress as she reached inside her panties and began pushing pieces of her shit into her cunt. Then she squealed in yet another orgasm…

******************

That afternoon, when the girls arrived home from school, dropped off by the parents of one of Poppy’s friends, Lara greeted them with an expression of tight-lipped fury.

“I’ve just been in your room, Poppy!” she exclaimed. “I have never seen such a disgusting mess in my life! What have you to say for yourself?”

Poppy’s heart leaped into her mouth. She hung her head guiltily. “I … I don’t know,” she said.

“It’s that Brantasia, isn’t it?” demanded Lara. “You’ve been pooping in your bed and getting off on it, haven’t you! You filthy, disgusting girl! I bet you’ve been pooping in your panties at school, too!”

Poppy began to cry. “I’m sorry, Mum!” she said. “It just … it feels so good…”

“But it’s horrible!” cried Lara. “It’s disgusting and it’s against God! I can’t believe I could raise a child who turns out to enjoy such a vile, disgraceful activity.”

“Steady on, Mum,” said Emma, rattled but angry at this verbal assault on her sister. “It’s not exactly Poppy’s fault.”

Lara rounded on her. “You know about this?” she demanded. “Of course you do! You’ve been eating that stuff too. I suppose you’ve been pooping in your panties too? Disgusting child!”

Emma sniffed the air. “What’s that smell?” she asked. She and Poppy had both defecated in their panties twice today – once in morning lessons and once in the cafeteria at lunchtime. But they had cleaned themselves up well, and although they had brought a large quantity of their shit home with them, it was safely sealed in zip-seal freezer bags which they had ‘borrowed’ from the school kitchens. This smell, whatever it was, was not their fault.

“It’s probably the smell coming from Poppy’s room,” said Lara, backing away a little. “It was awful – I had to open the window just so I could breathe.”

“That’s not the dress you were wearing this morning,” said Emma suspiciously, advancing towards her mother.

“Don’t change the subject,” said Lara, rather nervously. She drew herself up to her full height of five feet four inches, which only gave her an inch’s advantage over Emma. “Now I want you two girls to go upstairs and clean Poppy’s room!” she said firmly.

“I think you’ve crapped your panties!” said Emma.

Lara deflated immediately. “Don’t be ridiculous!” she said, with a nervous laugh.

Poppy was beginning to recover herself. She wiped her eyes and marched forward. She was taller than her mother by a good two inches. “After all you just said to me, all about how filthy and disgusting I am … you’re standing there with messy panties?”

Emma, her expression grim, stepped forward suddenly and threw her arms around her mother, pinning Lara’s arms to her sides. “Check, Poppy!” she said. “Check Mum’s undies.”

“Don’t you dare!” exclaimed Lara with a gasp. She struggled wildly. “Let go of me, Emma! Immediately!”

Poppy hesitated, then darted around behind her mother and lifted up the back of her dress, revealing a huge sagging bulge in the back of Lara’s panties. “Aha!” she said triumphantly. “She has crapped in her panties! And there’s a ton of it – she must have been eating Brantasia!”

“I knew it!” said Emma, releasing her mother. “Mum, how could you be so hard on Poppy when you were standing there with your panties full of poop?”

Poppy placed her hand on the bulge. “It’s cool,” she said. “Mum’s had this in her panties for some time, I’m thinking.”

“For how long?” demanded Emma.

Lara’s cheeks burned red with embarrassment. “Since about one o’clock,” she said. “I guess I just couldn’t be bothered … I mean, I figured I would clean up later…”

Emma’s brow furrowed as she noticed something else. Her mother was a busty lady, but today she looked even more buxom than usual…

“What have you got under your dress?” she asked.

“What? Nothing!” said Lara, her face turning pale. She backed away, and as she did so, Poppy followed Emma’s example and wrapped her arms around her mother’s waist, pinning her arms.

Emma deftly unbuttoned the front of Lara’s dress, then pulled the two halves aside. “I don’t believe it!” she exclaimed.

Both cups of Lara’s bra were practically overflowing with shit. Lara hung her head in shame.

“You total hypocrite!” cried Emma.

“I know, I know,” said Lara, defeated. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t think that’s going to cut it,” said Emma sternly. “I think you need to be punished.”

“Punished??” said Lara incredulously. She recovered some of her offended dignity. “How dare you! I’m your mother!”

Emma, furious, slapped her mother hard across the face. Lara stared at her daughter in shock.

“You’re a shit-slut,” said Emma. “And the sooner you realise that, the better. Poppy, let’s get her upstairs to your room.”

“What? Are you crazy?” shouted Lara.

Emma pulled her mother’s dress off her shoulders and then tugged it downwards. Poppy released her grip around Lara’s waist, and Emma pulled the dress down to Lara’s ankles, leaving the woman in just her shit-filled underwear. Emma stood up, and then she and Poppy each took one of Lara’s arms and frogmarched their mother to the stairs.

Moments later, they were in Poppy’s room. There were flies everywhere. By now, Lara’s tone had changed to one of pleading.

“Girls, please!” she whined. “This is wrong – it isn’t natural.”

“It isn’t natural to shit yourself and keep it in your panties for three and a half hours!” said Emma. “It isn’t natural to yell at your daughters for doing something you’re doing yourself!”

Poppy threw back her bedclothes to reveal a bottom sheet still damp with piss and covered with vomit and piles of shit.

“No!” shrieked Lara fearfully. “Don’t make me…” She screamed as Poppy and Emma pushed her down on to the bed, piles of shit squishing beneath her.

“Oh, this is so gross!” cried Lara, screwing up her face in disgust.

Emma kicked off her shoes and climbed on top of her mother, straddling her midriff. “Mum, this is your penance for being so mean and hypocritical. If you co-operate and take your punishment like a … a woman … then maybe, just maybe, we won’t tell Dad what a disgusting shit-slut you are.”

Poppy giggled.

“Please don’t call me that!” said Lara. “All right girls, I’ll play along – but only so far! And please don’t tell your father – he’d walk out on all of us!”

“Then you’d better do whatever we say,” said Emma severely. She relaxed her bladder, and felt her panties soak through with pee.

“Oh! Ugh! Oh what are you doing? Oh no!” cried Lara as the warm urine spread over her belly and ran up her chest between her breasts.

“Can I pee on her too?” asked Poppy excitedly.

“Of course,” said Emma. She climbed off her mother.

Lara started to get up, but Emma pushed her back down. “You’d better stay lying there until we say otherwise!” she warned.

Lara sighed and nodded as Poppy climbed on top of her. Then Poppy walked forward on her knees until she was straddling her mother’s face.

“Oh no, darling, no!” said Lara urgently.

“Yes, Mum, I want you to drink my pee through my panties,” said Poppy.

“No! Darling, that’s just awful! And unhygienic!”

Both girls laughed. “And letting your shit rub over your pee-hole isn’t?” asked Emma. “Can’t you get an infection that way?” She reached down between Lara’s legs and started rubbing her mother’s pussy through her panties. There was a considerable thickness of shit in there, extending almost all the way up to Lara’s waistband at the front.

“Oh … oh! Oh, stop that!” said Lara breathlessly. “Oh no … oh yes … oh God!” She moaned loudly in another orgasm, but her moan was muffled as Poppy settled her panties against Lara’s open mouth and began to pee. She pressed her knees together either side of Lara’s head, so her mother could not turn away, and Lara found herself obliged to drink quickly to avoid choking.

Emma meanwhile had pulled Lara’s panties to one side and was pushing lumps of shit into her mother’s vagina. Lara moaned in protest, and tried to close her legs, but Emma merely planted her own legs between her mother’s and forced them apart. Shoving her fingers into Lara’s cunt, Emma stuffed Lara’s shit deep inside her body, and then, tucking her thumb into her palm, she continued pushing until her entire hand slipped inside.

“Wow! You’re pretty loose down here, Mum,” she observed.

Poppy pulled her panties to one side so that her naked shaven pussy was now pressing directly against her mother’s lips. She soon finished peeing, but she did not remove herself. “Lick me, Mum,” she ordered. “Lick my clit and make me come.”

Lara yelled a muffled “No!” into Poppy’s pussy, but Emma made a fist and punched deep inside her mother’s cunt. “You’d better do as she says, Mum!” she advised.

“Oooh!” exclaimed Poppy. “Oooh yes! That’s it – lick me Mum!”

Tears sprang from Lara’s eyes as she licked and sucked on the clitoris of one of her daughters, while the other fisted her shit-filled vagina. How had her relationship with her children deteriorated so badly today?

Suddenly feeling the urge to defecate, Emma quickly pulled her fist out of her mother, then she whipped her panties down and positioned herself so that her anus was pressed against Lara’s still-gaping cunt. As she relaxed, her shit poured out of her anus and surged up into Lara’s vagina, then, with nowhere else to go and the pressure steadily building, it forced its way past Lara’s cervix and began to squirt into her womb. As Emma continued to poop directly into her mother’s cunt, Lara’s womb quickly filled and began to swell, stretched outwards by the huge volume of shit pouring in through her cervical opening. Emma watched her mother’s swelling belly with fascination.

“Oh my God Emma, what are you doing?” wailed Lara, pulling her mouth from Poppy’s pussy.

“Keep sucking!” Poppy ordered, forcing her mother’s lips back on to her clitoris. Then, feeling a powerful pressure in her bowels, she started filling her panties with shit. The sensation this brought her, coupled with the stimulation of her clit by her mother’s lips and tongue, caused her to literally scream in her orgasm…

******************

Grant parked his car and hummed a little tune to himself as he went indoors. He stopped short at the sight of his wife chopping vegetables at the kitchen counter.

“Hello darling,” he said. “That’s a … a nice outfit.”

Lara blushed. “I thought that, you know, what with our children becoming pop stars and everything, perhaps I should try a little harder to keep pace with current fashions. I wouldn’t want them to be ashamed of me.”

Grant chuckled. “Well that’s all very admirable, I’m sure – but I never would have expected to see you in something quite that … short.”

Lara’s dress, which an hour ago had stopped just short of her ankles, now covered her buttocks with a mere three inches to spare, thanks to Poppy’s scissors and her own hasty needlework. As mortified as she felt by this unaccustomed exposure, however, she was far more concerned with keeping secret the huge shit-filled bulge in the back of her white cotton panties, which was sagging so low that if she bent over the counter any further, it would peep below her hemline. She hoped fervently that Grant would not notice the smell.

Unfortunately she had not considered the effect that her newly-trimmed dress would have on her husband. With a growing smile he advanced on her and gave her bottom a playful swat, causing her to squeal in anxiety.

“What the…?” began Grant. He lifted up the back of her dress. “Lara!” he exclaimed, shocked. “You’ve … you’ve had an accident!”

“It’s not my fault, it’s the Brantasia!” Lara jabbered. “I had a bowlful to see what the effects were, because Emma and Poppy have started eating a lot of the stuff, and when the urge came I just couldn’t hold it!”

“But why on Earth didn’t you clean up?” asked Grant, bewildered.

“It only just happened! I was going to go and clean up after I had finished chopping the mushrooms.”

“Well good grief,” said Grant, shaking his head. “Here – let me take over the chopping. You go and get clean. And for heaven’s sake don’t let the girls see you, or you’ll never hear the end of it!”

Lara laughed nervously, then she waddled out of the room as fast as she dared. At the top of the stairs she met Poppy, who was naked and armed with a pair of scissors.

“Hi Mum,” said Poppy. She reached out with the scissors and began cutting buttons off the front of Lara’s dress, starting with the topmost.

“Stop it, Poppy!” said Lara. “Haven’t you done enough?”

“I just think that you shouldn’t keep such nice big boobs covered up so much,” said Poppy. She snipped off a button that was well below the level of her mother’s nipples, and the dress gaped open to reveal a huge expanse of cleavage. “That’s better,” she said with a naughty grin.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go and empty out my panties,” said Lara.

“Oh, I don’t think so,” said Poppy. “I think you should keep them on.”

“Look,” hissed Lara. “Your dad just caught me with loaded panties and he’s expecting me to empty them out. How on Earth would I explain it to him if I went back down with all this poop still in my panties?”

“Tell him the truth,” said Poppy. “Tell him you like having full panties. Ask his permission to let you keep them on.”

“I can’t do that!” said Lara desperately. “He’ll think I’ve gone insane! He’ll leave me!”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t,” said Poppy, though she looked a little troubled. “The worst he’ll do is not give you permission.”

“Well I’m not doing it,” said Lara firmly. “I’m going to clean up and that’s that.”

“What’s going on?” asked Emma, emerging from her room. She, too, was naked.

“Mum wants to empty her panties,” said Poppy. “I told her she should ask Dad’s permission to keep them full, but she’s refusing.”

Emma folded her arms. “Oh really?” she said. “Well we can’t have our holier-than-thou hypocritical mother refusing to obey our orders, can we? I think this requires some form of punishment.”

Poppy grinned. “Yeah!” she said. “But, um, what?”

“I think we should go and tell Dad that Mum had sex with us this afternoon, and we filled her cunt with shit.”

“You wouldn’t!” exclaimed Lara, shocked.

“Do you think he’ll believe us?” asked Poppy.

“Maybe not … until he sees the evidence.”

Lara’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “All right – I’ll go and ask your dad for permission to keep this shit in my panties.”

The girls grinned at each other. “Good!” said Poppy.

Lara trudged downstairs and found Grant in the living room. “Uh, darling?” she said.

“Yes dear?” asked Grant. “Good heavens, do you realise you’re falling out of your dress?”

“Um, yes,” said Lara wretchedly. “Um, do you think it would be okay if I kept this poop in my panties for a little while?”

Grant’s jaw dropped open in astonishment. “Why? Whatever for?” he asked.

“Well,” muttered Lara, staring at the floor, “it feels kind of nice, and…” She trailed off, not knowing what else to say.

Grant burst out laughing. “You what?” he said incredulously. “It feels nice to have poop in your panties?” He shook his head in amused disbelief. “I’d never have thought it of you, Lara – not in a million years. So you’ve discovered a new fetish, have you? Well far be it from me to stand in the way of your new-found sexuality, but couldn’t you have found something a little less … gross?”

Lara’s cheeks turned crimson and she hung her head in shame. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m not sure what’s come over me.”

“Don’t worry about it,” said Grant sympathetically. “I’m sure it’s just a phase. Don’t let the kids find out, though, otherwise they’ll never let you hear the end of it. And I’m sure you wouldn’t want them to try something like that themselves.”

“Um,” said Lara, “they kind of already know. And they are doing it themselves. In fact they were doing it before I was.”

“Really?” asked Grant, at once surprised and alarmed.

“Yes! You should see the state of Poppy’s room – it’s disgusting! There’s filth all over her bed – she’s been sleeping in her own waste! And Emma’s, too, I think. They’re behaving like a couple of … of…”

“Of what? Coprophiliacs?” suggested Grant. “Look who’s talking! But this does worry me – I think I’d better go and have a talk with the two of them.”

Lara contemplated how this might go, and a feeling of panic came over her as she imagined the girls, under pressure from their father’s wrath, blurting out the sordid tale of what had happened this afternoon. “You know what?” she said quickly. “I think they’re embarrassed enough already because I found out what they were doing – I think it might be kinder to them if they continue to believe you know nothing about it. Why don’t you let me talk to them instead?”

Grant, half out of his seat, shrugged and sat back down. “If you wish,” he said. “I’ll just pretend I don’t know anything about it then.” Secretly he was relieved – he did not relish bringing up such an uncomfortable subject with his teenaged daughters. “Just make sure they don’t make a mess where I might find it.” He picked up his handheld and pressed a button so that the wall monitor lit up with the day’s news headlines. “The same goes for you,” he added. “Don’t be sitting down on our nice leather sofa with your messy panties on.”

“Of course not,” said Lara. “Thank you darling.”

“Don’t mention it,” said Grant.

Reaching back to cradle the huge lump in her panties, Lara felt a mixture of relief and unease as she waddled through to the kitchen to resume preparing dinner.

******************

That night, Emma and Poppy took it in turns to pee on each other and shit in their panties while they lay in Poppy’s bed together. At one o’clock in the morning, Emma said, “You know Poppy, tomorrow’s a big day for us. Maybe we should try to get some sleep.”

“Okay,” agreed Poppy. “But first, I have a really cool idea. Let’s go and fill Mum’s panties with our shit while she’s asleep. You know how heavily she sleeps – she won’t wake up. And when she gets up in the morning, she’ll think she did it herself.”

Emma giggled. “That’s a great idea, Poppy!” she said.

So the two sisters crept quietly through to their parents’ bedroom, carrying a small torch and a large mound of shit in a plastic bowl they had retrieved from the kitchen. The floorboards creaked occasionally, but this small sound could barely be heard over their father’s loud snores. As luck would have it, Lara was lying on her side, facing in to the middle of the bed, so it was an easy task to pull back the covers and expose her panty-clad bottom.

Here they had a surprise – in the light from Poppy’s torch, they could see that their mother’s panties were already bulging with shit. There was no room for any more, so the girls, giggling quietly to themselves, hurried back to Poppy’s room. There Poppy lay down in the piles of shit on her bed, and spread her legs so that Emma could heap the shit from the bowl over her pussy. When the bowl was empty, Emma pulled the covers over Poppy and kissed her goodnight.

“I’m going to have a quick shower and then get into my nice clean bed,” she said. “Enjoy your night of filth, my little shit-slut.”

“I will,” promised Poppy with a grin. “Night Emma.”

******************

The next day their coprophiliac proclivities were forgotten, albeit temporarily, as they prepared for their first rehearsal. Emma and Poppy bolted down a bowlful each of Brantasia, as did Lara, who tried not to look her daughters in the eye as she poured herself a generous helping. Grant watched in astonishment.

“Good Lord,” he said. “Anyone would think you three were trying to have accidents in your panties. Have you any idea how strong that stuff is?”

“We do,” said Emma, and Poppy giggled.

Grant sighed and shook his head. “Well if you embarrass yourselves today while you’re rehearsing, you’ll only have yourselves to blame.”

After breakfast, as the girls were brushing their teeth, Lara put her head around the bathroom door. “We’ll be leaving in ten minutes,” she said. “Make sure you’re ready!”

Emma spat. “We will,” she said. “But you’re overdressed, Mum. You’d better go and put on something more … sexy.”

Lara whimpered unhappily and withdrew. Ten minutes later she went to Emma’s room. “Ready?” she said.

Emma and Poppy emerged, Emma in a buttock-grazing skirt and low-cut tank top, and Poppy in a splay-dress that covered her buttocks with barely an inch to spare. Lara herself was wearing a newly-trimmed dress that came one third of the way down her thighs.

“Better, Mum,” said Emma, “but not quite short enough.”

“Well I don’t have time to shorten it any more,” said Lara. “But you two should put on something more conservative – Terry will have a fit when he sees you!”

“No he won’t,” said Emma stubbornly. “He knows what young girls wear today. Besides, is he even going to be there?”

“I don’t know, but I wouldn’t be surprised,” said Lara. “Oh well – I suppose we should get going anyway. Come along.” She led them downstairs and out to the car.

The trip to Manchester was uneventful, except that at one point Lara gasped and lifted her bottom off the seat. Seconds later a faint smell of shit wafted into the back seat. Poppy and Emma both laughed, and teased their mother mercilessly for the rest of the journey.

“I won’t come in,” said Lara, when they arrived at the venue for the rehearsal – a large house owned by a friend of Val’s. By now Lara had been sitting in a big pile of her own shit for over an hour, and she dreaded to think what her dress would look like at the back if she tried to get out of the car. “Good luck, you two!”

Emma felt suddenly bad for all the teasing. “Thanks Mum,” she said, leaning into the driver’s window and giving Lara a big hug. “Thanks for everything. I’m really sorry I hurt you yesterday. You know we really do love you, right? Despite … everything?”

“Then I wish you’d let me off the hook with this poo thing,” said Lara. “And the minidresses. It’s horribly embarrassing.”

“Yes, well, I’m not sure that you’re not secretly enjoying some of it,” said Emma. “You came pretty hard last night.”

Lara blushed. “That’s enough of that kind of talk,” she said. “Go on inside now, or you’ll be late. I’ll see you at five.”

Inside they were met by Val, the record producer, who welcomed them briefly and then ushered them into the living room, where Chloe and Rosie were already chatting with Marge.

“I’m not staying,” said Val. “Urgent business. And Brian’s not here yet, so you might as well spend some time with Marge and try on the outfits she’s got for you.” With that he hurried out.

“Hello Emma, hello Poppy,” said Marge warmly. “Are you ready to try on some outfits?”

“Sure,” said both girls.

“Since it’s just us girls here,” said Marge, “there’s no sense in sending you upstairs to change. You might as well try on your clothes right here. Emma, this is for you…”

She handed Emma a short-sleeved dress made from stretch-denim, a fabric which, it turned out, Marge had made good use of – nearly all of their outfits were made from it. Emma hesitated before trying hers on, but once Chloe started undressing, she felt bold enough to strip off her skirt and top. Wearing just a pair of white panties and a lacy white bra, she unfolded the denim dress and pulled it on over her head.

It was tight, but not uncomfortably so. She had to struggle a bit to tug it down over her breasts, and then over her hips, but once it was in place it was quite comfortable. She was rather alarmed at how low-cut it was – the neckline was fashionably square-cut, but unusually wide, exposing her chest almost from one armpit to the other. And it was so deep that a good deal of her bra was showing.

“Oh dear, that will never do,” said Marge, when she noticed Emma. “Take your bra off, love.”

Emma managed to get her bra off without removing her dress, and she looked down uneasily at her ample chest. Both her areolas were peeping above the neckline, though fortunately her nipples were still just out of sight. She reached her hand down inside the front of the dress and adjusted each breast slightly until her areolas were covered again. Then, reaching back to feel her bottom, she found that the dress only just covered her buttocks. At the front, it only just covered her panties. Looking in a full-length mirror at one end of the room, she realised that the hemline had been cut asymmetrically – it was higher at the front than at the back. If she sat down in this dress, there was no way she was going to be able to keep her panties hidden.

Poppy, meanwhile, was pulling up a very skimpy pair of Daisy Dukes. When she had got it zipped up at the front, she giggled naughtily as she felt her bottom with her hands and discovered that the shorts stopped just halfway down her buttocks, thus exposing much of her white panties. Only a thin string of a gusset ran between her legs, and at the front the shorts were so narrow and so high-cut that her panties were showing either side. And if that wasn’t skimpy enough, the shorts were so low-rise that there was barely two inches of vertical coverage at each hip, and her panties peeped over the top all the way around. Figuring that it would not be acceptable for her panties to show like this, Poppy slipped out of the shorts, removed her panties, and pulled her shorts back on. As she tugged them into place, the gusset started to slip between her labia a little, but there was enough width at the front for this not to be visible to anyone standing in front of her.

Her top was a little denim lace-up jacket, cut just below her breasts and so small that even when she laced it up as tightly as she could, there was still a gap of some ten inches between the two halves, making it very difficult for her to keep her nipples covered. She managed, though, and when she looked in the mirror she was very pleased with the result.

Rosie, the fair-skinned redhead, was rather less thrilled with her own outfit. It was a non-stretchy denim minidress with slender shoulder straps which gradually widened as they descended towards her breasts, the space between them turning into a plunging neckline which ended a couple of inches below her navel. The sides of the dress swept downwards and around her back, starting just below the level of her nipples at the front and finishing in another deep ‘V’ which ended at the point where her buttock cleavage began. A bra was clearly not an option with a dress like this, and Rosie had already removed hers. The skirt part of the dress was micro-short, finishing just below her buttocks, and although it fitted closely, it was not skin-tight … one shrug of her shoulders and the whole thing would just fall to the floor.

“I don’t think this is quite what Terry had in mind,” said Rosie timidly. “And my parents are going to just kill me if they see me wearing something like this.”

Chloe, on the other hand, was quite cool about her outfit, and she looked stunning in it. She was wearing a seven-inch stretch-denim microskirt below which the lower curves of her buttocks peeped barely perceptibly, and a buttonless denim blouse which tied together at the front and revealed a lot of cleavage. She looked Rosie up and down. “Well I think you look smashing Rosie,” she said. “You too, Emma and Poppy. I like this look very much.”

“Well … so do I,” said Emma. “And thanks Chloe – I know we can’t hold a candle to you. But don’t you think Terry will flip out when he sees us like this?”

“He might,” said Marge with a chuckle. “But Val’s running the show now, not Terry, and Val, I can assure you, will be most happy with these outfits. Besides, it’s not like most of today’s female pop singers don’t wear less than that.”

“But I’m going to fall out of this thing!” wailed Rosie. “Look!” She took a step to the left and bounced back on to her right foot. Sure enough, the left strap of her dress fell off her shoulder, and almost the entire side of the dress fell away to expose her left breast. “See?”

“Nice boob, Rosie!” said Emma, and the others laughed. Rosie blushed and retrieved the left strap from down by her hip where it had fallen, and covered her breast again.

“Yes, yes I see the problem,” said Marge, smiling. “Perhaps we’ll use some tape to hold the dress in place when you perform.”

At that moment Brian walked in. “Holy crap!” he exclaimed when he saw the girls. “Um, er, is everyone ready to rehearse?”

“Hi Brian,” said Emma, trying not to laugh at his reaction. Then she froze as the pressure in her bowels, which had been quietly building over the last hour, intensified with a suddenness that made her gasp, and as the others looked at her in mounting astonishment, she felt her anus flower open as a torrent of semi-soft shit poured out of her anus, filling her panties and ballooning them downwards below the hem of her microdress. Quickly reaching capacity, the elastic of her panties was pushed away from her buttocks, whereupon large chunks of shit oozed out of the sides and dropped to the floor with a series of moist splats.

“Oops!” she said with a strange mixture of embarrassment and secret pleasure. Then her shit, rushing forward along her gusset, reached her clitoris and she moaned loudly in orgasm.

Poppy, her hand over her mouth, giggled excitedly at her sister’s predicament. Then she said, “Oh no! It’s happening to me too!” She had not yet, in fact, come to the same point as Emma, but as she relaxed her anus and pushed, her bowels took over and thrust the entire contents of her rectum and large intestine into her Daisy Dukes, which were spectacularly ill-equipped for the task of holding such a large quantity of shit. The brown mess immediately pushed downwards past the string-gusset of her shorts and cascaded to the floor between her legs, where it built up into a huge pile between her feet.

“Great heavens, girls, whatever are you doing?” exclaimed Marge, her eyes wide.

“You’ve been eating Brantasia!” Brian accused Emma, pointing a finger at her.

Now it was Emma’s turn to be astonished. “However did you know that?” she asked.

“Nothing else has that effect!” said Brian. He turned to Marge. “It’s becoming quite a popular thing,” he said. “It started about six months ago, when someone discovered that if you eat more than the recommended quantity of Brantasia, you not only shit like a horse, but it also – allegedly – feels really amazing to do so. As you could no doubt tell from Emma’s … uh … reaction. And now, all over the country, women are eating tons and tons of Brantasia.”

“How come I haven’t heard of this?” asked Marge, staring with fascination at the pile of shit between Poppy’s feet.

“I’ve heard of it,” said Rosie, her eyes fixed on the back of Emma’s panties. “Does it really feel that good, Emma?”

Emma turned and smiled at Rosie. “It’s amazing!” she confided.

“I think it’s gross!” said Chloe, grimacing with distaste. “Although it doesn’t smell nearly as bad as I would have thought.”

“That’s another effect of the Brantasia,” explained Brian. “Anyway Marge, I don’t know why you haven’t heard of it, but I’m guessing it’s because you don’t seek out that kind of news story. It’s been frequently reported, but I guess it never makes the top headlines because the media has its hands full with the antics of Jennifer Wolfe, Shannon Ferguson, Kendra Clark and so on.”

“Is this true, then, Emma?” asked Marge. “Have you and Poppy been eating lots of Brantasia so you can poop bucketloads and have orgasms doing it?”

Emma blushed. “Well … yeah, I suppose that’s about the size of it.”

“The size of it is enormous,” said Chloe, disapprovingly. “How on Earth are you going to get that out of the carpet?”

“Oh, it’ll come out,” said Brian. “Zoomkleen works nicely.”

All eyes turned to Brian.

“And how do you know that?” asked Marge, trying not to grin.

Brian looked horrified. “Uh, so I gather! I mean, I wouldn’t know from personal experience or anything…” Then his shoulders slumped as he realised none of them were buying this. “All right,” he said, “my girlfriend likes to … well … she’s been doing it for a few months. But for God’s sake don’t mention it if you ever meet her!” he added fiercely. “She’d kill me!”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” said Marge, laughing. “Do you have any recommendations for how to get it out of Poppy’s shorts?”

“Um, we find most detergents work just fine,” said Brian, his cheeks very red.

“I suppose Poppy and I should go and clean up?” said Emma.

“Yes, unless you want to stay like that while you rehearse,” said Marge, chuckling.

Emma shrugged, and Marge burst out laughing. “You do want to stay like that!” she exclaimed.

“No way!” said Chloe vehemently. “I’m not rehearsing with Emma while her knickers are full of shit.”

“Emma, go on upstairs and get yourself cleaned up,” said Marge. “Try not to drop anything on the way. You too, Poppy. You can clean up the mess on the floor later.”

The two sisters cleaned themselves up, and then all four girls changed back into their non-denim clothes for the rehearsal. They spent the morning singing Brian’s songs, and then they had some lunch (which Poppy and Emma both supplemented with a bowlful each of Brantasia). Afterwards, Emma and Poppy cleaned up the mess they had made earlier, putting all their shit in a strong polythene bag so that they could take it home. Then all four girls rehearsed some more. At about two o’clock, Poppy filled her panties, closely followed by Emma, who had fortunately just put hers back on after having washed and dried them. Since Chloe was still unwilling to rehearse with them in such a state, they were obliged to take a break to clean themselves. Again their shit went into the polythene bag, which by now was so full and heavy the handles were threatening to break.

When five o’clock came around and their respective rides arrived outside, Marge took Emma and Poppy aside. “Are you two likely to be having these accidents while performing?” she asked.

“It’s possible,” said Emma guardedly.

Marge nodded. “Then I’ll make sure you’re properly equipped in terms of underwear,” she said. “It would be good if your panties could ‘contain the load’, so to speak, even if you’re dancing vigorously.”

“That would be great!” said Poppy. “You think you can get us panties that could do that?”

“Oh, I’m sure I can,” said Marge. “Incontinence panties come in all shapes and sizes these days – even skimpy bikini briefs. And they’re as thin as regular panties.”

A minute later, as they climbed into Lara’s car, Emma sniffed the air. “You been crapping your panties again Mum?” she asked.

Lara was by now sitting in a huge pile of shit, which was barely concealed by her minidress. She blushed and said, “Yes, I had another little accident. Now shut up and fasten your seatbelts.”

The girls laughed. “So you had a good day?”

“No, I didn’t,” said Lara crossly. “I had to go to the hospital to have my womb flushed out. Have you any idea how humiliating that was? Not to mention uncomfortable.”

Emma felt guilty. “Sorry Mum – I only meant to fill your vagina.”

“They thought I was a prostitute!” said Lara. “A prostitute! Me!”

“Poor Mum,” said Poppy sympathetically.

“Mum,” said Emma suddenly. “Could you take us to a sex shop?”

“What? No!” said Lara. “Absolutely not. They’re horrible places, and anyway you’re way too young.”

“Not according to the new consent laws,” said Emma. “Please?”

“No! What do you want to go there for anyway?”

“I want sex toys!” said Emma. “Dildos and things – you know.” Then she added, more sternly, “Should we tell Dad why you went to the hospital today?”

Lara pursed her lips. “If I let you borrow mine, will that satisfy you?”

“You have a sex toy?” asked Poppy in surprise.

“Hush. Yes. Just the one,” said Lara. “Your father’s idea, of course.”

Emma was intrigued. “Well it depends on what it is.”

Lara sighed. “It’s a … a dildo, with a hollow tube running up the middle so it can, er, ejaculate. You know, like a real penis. It has a sac at the base which you can fill with whatever you want … warm water, milk, cream…”

“Shit?” asked Emma.

“I do wish you wouldn’t use that word,” said Lara. “But yes, I suppose you could. The thing came with a few different sizes of sac – the largest one would probably be big enough to fit a ‘full load’, if that’s what you wanted to use it for.”

“That sounds perfect!” said Emma. “Okay Mum, we’ll borrow your dildo instead of going to a sex shop … if you agree to let us use it on you.”

“Why does that not surprise me?” sighed Lara. “All right then.”

As she drove them home, Poppy, who was sitting behind the driver’s seat, reached around under her mother’s arms and started unbuttoning Lara’s dress.

“Stop that,” said Lara. “What are you doing?”

But Poppy continued until all of the buttons were undone. “Take your shoulders out,” she said.

“I’ll do no such thing!” said Lara. “What if someone sees?”

“You won’t get into trouble,” said Poppy. “No more public indecency laws, remember?”

“That’s not true,” said Lara. “The indecency laws have simply been revised to exclude public nudity, which the stupid government no longer considers to be indecent.”

“Well then,” said Emma. “Poppy’s right – you won’t get into trouble if you take off your dress.”

“I suppose not,” said Lara, “but I’m still keeping it on.”

“How about if I just rip it along this seam?” suggested Poppy, tugging on the shoulder of the dress.”

“Hey, don’t do that!” said Lara. “All right all right – I’ll take it off.”

She slipped her arms out of the dress, and Poppy pulled the garment down to her waist, exposing her bra-clad breasts to anyone who happened to look inside their car. The dress also fell away from Lara’s legs, exposing her shit-filled panties as well as the mound of shit that was sitting between and on top of her thighs. Then Poppy picked up the bag of shit that they had filled back at Val’s friend’s house. Undoing her seatbelt, she waited until Lara stopped at some traffic lights, she leaned forward between the front seats, and emptied the entire bag over Lara’s breasts.

Lara shrieked in horror and dismay. “Oh my God, what have you done?” she cried as the shit slid down over her breasts and built up in a huge pile on her panties and thighs. The lights changed and she was obliged to move off, turning right and picking up speed as she ascended the long slip lane that led up to the motorway.

Poppy and Emma kissed and cuddled for a few minutes in the back seat, and then Poppy once again reached around under her mother’s armpits. Grabbing handfuls of shit, she started smearing them over Lara’s belly, chest and bra.

“Oh Poppy, you’re making a horrible mess!” wailed Lara, powerless to do anything about it though for a moment she ineffectually tried to ward off Poppy’s hands with one of her own. So she merely whimpered unhappily as Poppy began stuffing both cups of her bra full of shit, and slapping layer after layer of shit on the rest of her torso.

After a while, Poppy reached down, slipped her hand inside Lara’s panties, and started rubbing her mother’s clitoris.

“Oh – stop that,” said Lara, but without much conviction. Her driving started to become a little erratic as she gasped and moaned in reluctant pleasure.

“Keep your eyes on the road, Mum,” said Emma uneasily.

“Sorry – yes,” said Lara … as if it was her fault that her concentration was wavering.

She was about to climax when Poppy suddenly stopped rubbing. Lara, disappointed, said, “Why did you stop? Come on dear – you might as well finish me off.”

“Say please,” said Poppy, grinning.

“I’m not going to beg for you to give me an orgasm,” said Lara firmly. But she smiled as Poppy resumed stroking her clitoris. Once again, however, Poppy stopped just before Lara could climax. “Good grief!” snapped Lara petulantly. “I was so close! Couldn’t you just finish me off … please?”

“What’s it worth?” asked Poppy mischievously, removing her hand from Lara’s panties so that she could unhook her mother’s bra at the back. She pulled it off Lara’s shoulders. “Take your arms out of this,” she said.

Lara complied with not a word of objection as she said in an exasperated tone, “What’s it worth? I don’t know – what do you have in mind?”

Poppy scooped the shit out of the cups of her mother’s bra, and used it to coat Lara’s breasts. Lara shivered as Poppy teased her nipples between her fingers. Then Poppy pushed her hand back into the shit in Lara’s panties. As she began slowly rubbing Lara’s clitoris, she said, “First, tell us how much you like having shit in your panties.”

“Well … ooh, that’s nice … um, well, obviously I like it,” said Lara, her breaths becoming heavier. “It does kind of feel nice.”

“Now tell us how nice it feels to have me rubbing shit on your boobs,” said Poppy, as with her free left hand she started massaging even more shit into Lara’s left breast.

“It’s very nice, dear, but not the sort of thing you should be doing to your own mother…”

“Now tell us what you’ll be wearing to church tomorrow,” said Poppy.

“To church? Why, a long dress, of course.”

Poppy stopped rubbing Lara’s clitoris. “A long dress?”

“Well I suppose I could shorten it a bit,” said Lara.

Poppy began to rub again … very, very slowly. “A bit?”

“A lot,” conceded Lara. “I’ll make it very short, darling. Just please – rub faster!”

“How short?” asked Poppy, speeding up her rubbing very slightly.

“Er … very short. Um, shorter than this one.”

“Be more specific!” said Poppy.

“Uh, let’s say – two inches below my buttocks?” suggested Lara.

Poppy slowed down.

“Oh God, please!” begged Lara. “All right – I’ll cut it to the exact level of my buttocks!”

Poppy speeded up a little. “Pretty good,” she murmured.

“Maybe even shorter!” gasped Lara. “How about – one inch above the level of my buttocks!”

“Very good,” said Poppy, speeding up even more. “And what will you do to show off your lovely big boobs?”

“Ahhhh …. Oohh … yes … yes …”

“No coming yet!” said Poppy, slowing down her rubbing. “Tell me about your boobs!”

“Um, let’s see – if I wear my green-and-white dress, which zips up at the back, I could cut the neckline lower – oh faster please darling!”

“Describe how much lower!” Poppy commanded her.

“Mum, slow down!” yelped Emma.

“Oops! Sorry dear,” said Lara, easing up on the accelerator. “Keep rubbing, Poppy!”

“Describe!” said Poppy.

“Oh – um, I’ll cut it so low that my bra is showing,” said Lara.

Poppy rubbed a little harder.

“And then, I won’t wear a bra!” moaned Lara, squirming in her seat as she approached her orgasm. Her shit mashed deliciously against her anus and pussy. “Oh … yes! Oh yes Poppy! Oh, faster dear! I’ll cut it even lower, so the edges of my nipples are showing. Ohhhhh! And I’ll cut the hem shorter still – two inches, no three inches above the level of my bottom! Ahhhhhhhh!!!!” With a final orgasmic moan of ecstasy, she veered on to the hard shoulder. The reverberations caused by the tyres running over the rumble strip soon brought her concentration back, however, and she swerved back into her lane. “Oh God!” she said. “That was wonderful darling – thank you.”

“You know we’re going to hold you to those dress modifications,” said Emma, rattled by her mother’s driving but aroused nonetheless by Poppy’s machinations.

“Yes … yes, I know,” Lara panted. “Oh dear, oh dear, whatever will they say! I don’t suppose we could go to a different church tomorrow, could we? Somewhere where they don’t know us?”

“No,” said Poppy firmly. “I think the rest of the congregation ought to know just how hypocritical you’ve been. Ranting at the immorality of today’s youth, when really you’re just a dirty shit-slut who gets off on having her daughters rub shit into her pussy.”

“That’s a little unfair…” began Lara, but she knew it was as near the truth as made no difference. “I guess I am a hypocrite. Maybe I do deserve to be humiliated like that. Very well – I’ll cut the dress like I said I would.”

And that wasn’t the only promise she had made, four orgasms later, as she pulled into a petrol station. She turned to Emma. “Darling,” she said, “Since you’re still decent, would you be a dear and fill up the tank for me?”

“Not a chance,” said Emma, grinning wickedly. “I want to see you get out and fill up yourself.”

“Oh dear,” fretted Lara. “Poppy?”

“Nope!” said Poppy excitedly.

Lara sighed and pulled her dress back on, fastening it over the caked shit that covered her upper body. Then she got out and put her thumb to the contact. A little voice said, “I’m sorry – my thumbprint recognition system is currently off-line. Please pay inside.”

“Bother it, these things are always broken!” muttered Lara. Her stomach flip-flopped as she looked into the store and saw the short queue at the counter. She opened the driver’s door and leaned in. “I’ve got enough petrol to last until tomorrow,” she said. “I’ll come back when I’m less messy.”

“No way!” said Emma firmly. “You might forget and then run empty somewhere. You must definitely fill up now.”

Lara reluctantly stood up and closed the door. With a queasy feeling in her stomach, she filled up the tank and then walked slowly to the door of the shop. A man was exiting just as she got there, and she stood well back to let him pass. Fortunately he was preoccupied with the cigarettes he had just bought and paid her no attention.

Inside, Lara hung back between aisles of biscuits and magazines until the last customer at the counter pressed his thumb against the small black payment pad. She quickly took his place as he walked off towards the exit.

“Pump three,” she said quickly.

“Christ on a bike!” said the man behind the counter. “Eh up, lass, what’s wi’ all that shit on you?”

“Please – I’m embarrassed enough as it is,” said Lara, blushing to the roots of her hair. “I just want to get home so I can clean up.”

“I’m not surprised!” said the man. “By ‘eck, whatever ‘appened to you?”

“I’d really rather not talk about it,” muttered Lara.

“Well just put your thumb on t’pad, if it’s not all covered in shit,” he said. “’Ow’re you payin’?”

“Visa,” said Lara, and she pressed her thumb to the pad.

“That’ll do nicely, lass. ‘Ave a nice day, then.”

“Thank you,” said Lara, and she hurried out as fast as she could. Underneath her dress, her loaded panties bounced and splatted against her buttocks.

“’Ere, you’ve dropped a load o’ shit on t’floor!” protested the cashier.

But it was too late – Lara was gone. A moment later, as she drove off from the pump, Poppy was already removing her dress again…

******************

That night, Poppy and Emma crept back into their parents’ bedroom. This time they were armed with Lara’s dildo, which she had given them upon their return from Manchester, along with a large sac, filled with shit from Poppy’s bed, which was attached to the dildo by means of a short tube. Wriggling in amongst the shit were hundreds of maggots, no doubt offspring of the flies which had been crawling all over Poppy’s bed ever since Lara had opened the window in that room.

Emma pulled back the sheets covering Lara, and shone the torch at Lara’s bottom. Once again her panties were filled with shit, which had spilled out and was making a mess of the bottom sheet. As Emma pulled Lara’s gusset to one side, however, Lara stirred in her sleep and rolled over on to her back.

“Shit,” whispered Poppy. “What now?”

Emma leaned close to her mother’s head. “Mum!” she whispered.

Lara’s eyes snapped open and she sat up. “What’s wrong?” she asked in concern.

“Nothing, nothing,” whispered Emma. “Lie back down. Don’t wake Dad. We just want you to spread your legs.”

“Oh for heaven’s sake,” muttered Lara. “So now I can’t even sleep peacefully without you wanting to molest me?”

“Please?” said Emma.

“All right, all right,” said Lara irritably. She raised her knees and spread them apart. “Like this?”

Poppy smiled and nodded. She reached out and pulled the gusset of her mother’s panties aside, then she slid the tip of the dildo into Lara’s cunt. Holding it in place with one hand, she used the other to squeeze the sac. But the toy was designed for runnier liquids than their shit, and she found she could not exert enough pressure with only one hand. “Here, hold this,” she whispered to Emma.

Emma took over the job of holding the dildo in place, and Poppy used both hands to squeeze the distended, shit-filled plastic sac. Gradually it compressed, and Lara’s gasps told the girls that their mixture of shit and maggots was now squirting into her cunt. It took a couple of minutes to completely flatten the sac, by which time Lara’s cunt was so full that the pressure was pushing the dildo out. Emma let it come out, and then she replaced Lara’s gusset.

But Poppy had other ideas. “Mum, since you’ve been such a good sport, I think you deserve a reward.”

“Huh? What reward?” whispered Lara.

In answer, Poppy leaned down, pulled Lara’s messy gusset aside, and started sucking on her mother’s clitoris. Lara gasped and moaned softly, making no attempt to close her legs. “Oh yes,” she whispered. “Thank you darling.” Soon she was bucking her hips in an intense orgasm, which lasted for a full minute since Poppy did not stop sucking.

Then Emma leaned forward to whisper, “Mum, do you need to pee at all?”

“A little,” said Lara.

“Then go ahead. Poppy will catch it.”

Without really knowing why she was doing so, Lara let go and peed, and Poppy thirstily drank as the yellow liquid came hissing out of her mother’s urethra. Then she pulled Lara’s panties back across, and sucked the last few spurts through the sodden gusset.

“Goodnight Mum,” murmured Emma, kissing Lara on the cheek.

“Goodnight Mum,” said Poppy, kissing her mother on the lips. She tried to stick her tongue into Lara’s mouth, but her mother kept her lips pressed shut. She pulled back. “Kiss me properly, Mum!” she whispered fiercely. This time, when she pressed her lips against her mother’s, Lara opened her mouth and the two of them entwined tongues for the first time.

Just then Grant began to stir. “Come on Poppy!” whispered Emma.

The two girls stole quietly out of the room. Meanwhile, Grant had awoken and was sniffing the air. “Lara? Did you have an accident in the bed again?”

“Yes darling,” whispered Lara. “I’m so sorry. Of course I’ll wash everything in the morning.”

“Ugh,” said Grant. “It’s the couch for me again, then.” He stumbled out of bed and left the room.

Lara sighed unhappily and drifted off into a troubled sleep.

******************

The next morning, Lara was as good as her word, trimming her green and white dress until it looked absolutely scandalous on her. Emma measured the distance between her hem and the bottom of her buttocks, and was satisfied to note that it was nearly four inches. At the front, with her eyes on a level with Lara’s crotch, she could see more than two vertical inches of Lara’s pale blue panties. The neckline was now so low-cut that Lara’s areolas were partially visible, and whenever Lara leaned over even slightly, her nipples popped into view. True to her word she was not wearing a bra.

Grant was dismayed when he saw her. “You’re going to church in that?” he exclaimed. “Good heavens woman, what’s come over you?”

Lara straightened herself up, thrusting out her chest proudly so that her nipples popped over the top of her neckline. “Darling, this is the new me,” she said. “Emma and Poppy have made me realise that I’ve been a hypocrite all this time, decrying today’s sexualised culture when in fact I get off on the very same things I previously lambasted. In fact it seems I am rather more perverted than most women. So you see, darling, I’m afraid you married a … a slut. A shit-slut, to be more precise. I can’t deny it any longer.”

Grant’s jaw had dropped halfway through this outburst, and it was currently trying to drop further. He tried to speak, but for a moment his lips moved noiselessly. Then he shook himself. “Wait a minute,” he said. “You say you’re a slut? Have you been having sex with other men? Because if you have…”

“No!” said Lara quickly. “Of course I haven’t. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“All right then,” said Grant. “So the symptoms of this … what should I call it … sluttishness? … are that you like crapping in your panties and wearing skimpy clothes?”

Lara glanced at Emma, but only briefly. “There are some other things,” she said. “I like to have my body covered with poo. Emma and Poppy have been pooping on me and peeing on me and rubbing it all over me. And I like it,” she added defiantly.

Grant pulled at his hair and started to pace up and down. “You’ve been messing around with our daughters?” he exclaimed incredulously.

“Don’t blame Mum for that,” said Emma. “We pretty much blackmailed her into it, and she hated it at first. But we were angry at her for telling us off about the state of Poppy’s room, when she was standing there in front of us with her panties full of shit.”

Grant was shaking his head as he marched back and forth. “I can’t believe this,” he said. “So you’re telling me that the three of you are having some kind of … of incestuous, lesbian, coprophiliac affair? Since when?”

“Since yesterday afternoon,” said Poppy. “Emma’s right, though – it wasn’t Mum’s fault. We’ve made her do all this stuff.”

“Bullshit!” said Grant angrily. “Lara’s an adult – she didn’t have to do a damn thing she didn’t want to!”

“Darling,” said Lara anxiously, “you’re right, I suppose – I should have struggled more, or something. But maybe deep down I was enjoying it, even when I thought I was hating it, and so I didn’t fight it as hard as I should. Dear, I know I’ve been bad … and you’re entitled to be angry about that. Just … please think about it, and then tell me what you want to do about it.”

“Do about it?” said Grant. “What the hell am I going to do about it? Divorce you? Have you thrown in prison for child abuse?”

“Uh, legally we’re both old enough to consent,” Poppy reminded him.

“But incest is still illegal!” shouted Grant.

“Then you’ll have to get us all thrown in prison,” said Emma.

“Maybe I will!” said Grant. He stormed out of the room. A moment later he came back. “Well of course I’m not going to have you all thrown in prison,” he said. “But what the hell am I supposed to do?”

The two girls, concerned that their family was about to split apart, came to either side of Lara, who protectively put an arm around each of them. Then she stiffened as Poppy slipped a hand into the back of her panties.

“I should divorce you,” said Grant, speaking half to himself. “I’ll take the kids with me, so they can have some semblance of a normal life.”

“We won’t go with you!” said Emma hotly. “We want to stay with Mum!”

“And we can,” said Poppy as she wormed her middle finger up into Lara’s anus. “We’re old enough to decide for ourselves.”

Grant shrugged helplessly. “Then what? You want me to leave you here with your mother, so you can carry on with your disgusting practices?”

“We don’t want you to leave, Dad!” said Emma. “We love you too!”

Grant slumped down into a chair and put his head in his hands. “If I stay, will you stop pooping and peeing all over each other?”

“Probably not,” said Lara levelly. “Do you think you can ever accept us for who we are?”

Grant got to his feet again. “I don’t know,” he said. “I need some time to think about it.” He marched out of the room. A moment later, they heard the front door open and shut.

“That went well, I thought,” said Poppy brightly.

“Shut up and take your finger out of my arse,” said Lara. “It looks like we’ll be going to church on our own. Go and have some breakfast, both of you … and Poppy, find yourself a less transparent top. I can see your nipples.”

“So? I can see yours,” said Poppy.

“Fair enough,” said Lara with a sigh. She adjusted her dress so that her nipples were covered again (but only just). This was going to be an awkward and embarrassing service…

******************

And so it was. Murmurs rippled through the congregation as Lara walked in with her daughters and took a seat near the back. One of Lara’s friends, a sharp-featured woman in her forties named Jilly, rushed over from her own pew as soon as she saw Lara’s microdress, Poppy’s indecently short splay skirt and see-through top, and Emma’s low-cut t-shirt and pleated microskirt.

“Lara! What’s come over you?” demanded Jilly. “I thought you hated skimpy clothing! It’s one thing for your kids to disrespect the church by turning up in the kind of indecent outfits that they wear to school, but it’s quite another for you to wear such outfits yourself – indeed, your dress is probably skimpier than anything I’ve seen worn by a teenager in here! Explain yourself, Lara! This is intolerable! What on Earth will the vicar say when she arrives? She’ll have you thrown out! I never thought I’d see the day when my friend Lara would get herself up like a shameless hussy, showing her knickers and goodness knows what else in a dress that would make a prostitute blush. Are you ill? Is something preventing you from thinking clearly? Just look at you, Lara! You’re a disgrace to this church! It wouldn’t surprise me if the vicar forbids you from entering here ever again! What’s the matter with you? Talk to me!”

“I would if I could get a word in edgeways,” said Lara. “The simple truth, Jilly, is that I have been exposed as a hypocrite by my very smart daughters, and as a penance I am dressing as skimpily as they do.”

“Oh!” said Jilly, taken aback. “A penance, is it? Well … you poor dear! What kind of hypocritical behaviour was it? No – don’t tell me – it’s none of my business. I shall of course support your decision, Lara – I always stand by my friends in their hour of need – but do you think perhaps … perhaps communion might not be a great idea today…?”

Lara smiled. “That’s very thoughtful of you, Jilly, but as painful as it will be to walk the full length of this church in order to take the bread and wine, I feel it is part of my penance to do so.”

Jilly nodded. “Quite right,” she said. She took one of Lara’s hands in her own. “So brave!” she whispered, then she turned and hurried back to her own family.

“Gosh, I never realised what an annoying cow she is until now!” said Lara quietly, and the girls giggled.

The story of Lara’s ‘penance’ spread like wildfire through the assembled churchgoers, and soon all kinds of people were coming up to her to wish her well. Many of them were men, for whom wishing her well seemed a long way from their minds as they uttered rambling diatribes of support in the direction of her chest.

“This is kind of fun!” whispered Lara in amusement as yet another elderly gentleman finally withdrew, mopping his brow with a white handkerchief.

“Mum, much as I’m enjoying the view, I should probably mention that your left nipple is showing,” said Emma.

“I know,” said Lara, and she winked at Emma.

Poppy giggled. “Mum, you rock!”

The long walk to the front of the church at communion was surprisingly untraumatic for Lara, who was by now almost comfortable with the amount of flesh she had on display. As she approached the front of the queue for the altar rail, however, disaster struck. Her laden bowels gave a mighty squeeze, and although she tried to clench her anus, it was impossible, and a long rope of shit snaked out into her panties with alarming speed.

“Oh no,” she murmured as her panties filled up, bulging enormously, and started to descend under the weight.

Poppy, who was behind her mother, said, “Oh heck, Mum!”

For a moment Lara considered waddling out of the church in humiliating retreat. If she did, she could explain this as an accident. If she continued to the altar rail, it would be hard to argue that she did not like having shit in her underwear. There was of course no way of concealing her crime, with her hemline by now practically on a level with the waistband of her sagging panties.

Emma, who was standing in front of Lara, now stepped forward and took her place at the rail, and next to her was a space, newly vacated by a man who had just received his wine. Taking a deep breath, which caused both nipples to rise above her neckline, she stepped forward and took her own place at the rail.

By this point, everybody in the church was either staring at her or being nudged by someone who was. Nobody, however, said a word, not even the vicar, who sniffed the air and then looked daggers at Lara as she handed her the wine cup.

Having taken their communion, Lara and her daughters got up and returned to the back of the church, followed by a hundred shocked faces and indignant murmurs. As Lara reached their pew, Emma whispered, “You’re surely not going to sit down, are you?”

“Indeed I am,” said Lara, and she sat down slowly in her place, her shit squishing everywhere – along her gusset, out of her legbands, out of her waistband at the back … she trembled in orgasm as a squishy lump slid over her clitoris.

Poppy giggled, then, after concentrating for a moment, she arched her back as her own panties filled to capacity and overflowed. Since she was still standing in the aisle, everyone on the other side of the aisle could see her panties ballooning outwards, and the lumps of shit that escaped out of the sides. Then she stepped past her mother and sat down in her own spot, uttering a little orgasmic squeal as her shit spread out beneath her.

Well this is it, thought Emma to herself, any moment now we’ll be kicked out of here in disgrace. Might as well make the most of it…

She stepped up on to the pew bench, turned her back on the rest of the congregation, spread her feet apart, lifted her skirt up around her waist, and pushed. Almost immediately her anus expanded and she felt the soft, warm caress of her shit as it thundered into her panties. Amazingly, before any of it had reached her pussy she found herself shuddering in orgasm, and her knees buckled involuntarily. Recovering quickly, she straightened up and sighed with pleasure as her panties filled up in the back, and a tongue of shit slithered forward, bringing her to another orgasm as it licked her clitoris. The front of her panties began to fill out, while at the back several soft lumps escaped and dropped to the floor behind her, or landed with a splat on the bench between her feet.

Then it was over, and she quickly turned around, stepped down to the floor, and sat down with a quiet moan of pleasure. Only then did she dare to look up and see if anyone was watching.

Everyone was watching, of course. For several seconds there was a stunned silence, and a sea of open mouths and wide eyes. Then Lara’s friend Jilly got to her feet. “I can hardly believe my eyes!” she exclaimed.

Here it comes, thought Emma, bracing herself.

“What an incredible display of determination, and loyalty,” continued Jilly. “As hard as it must have been for our friend Lara to come to church dressed in a manner we know she despises, that was, I am sure, insignificant compared with the humiliation and embarrassment she must be feeling as a result of having done what we just saw her do. Whatever she did to warrant such a debasing penance, I do not know and do not want to know, but I am personally deeply humbled and impressed by the lengths to which Lara has gone in order to assuage her guilt. I am also impressed, and very touched, by the devotion shown to her by her daughters, Emma and Poppy, who not only have shown no embarrassment at being seen with their mother like this, but have gone the extra mile and shared in her humiliation. Lara, Emma, Poppy … I applaud you.”

To the amazement of Lara and the two girls, Jilly started to clap her hands, slowly at first, and then, as others joined in, the applause increased in pace and volume until the entire congregation was on its feet, clapping and cheering. When it finally died down, Lara got to her feet, tears in her eyes.

“I am deeply moved by your support,” she said. “Thank you, all of you, from the bottom of my heart.”

The vicar, Sienna Hardwicke, now raised her own voice. “Lara, I would like to express my own support, though personally I would be most interested to hear what kind of transgression warranted this kind of penance. I could wish you had chosen some other method of easing your conscience, but nevertheless I am encouraged by the solidarity shown by your daughters. I trust that you and they will remove from my church the evidence of your penance before the day is out.”

“We will, of course,” replied Lara.

“There are some cleaning supplies in the vestry,” said the vicar. “And now, hymn number four hundred and seventy-three – If You Love Jesus, Crap Your … I beg your pardon, Clap Your Hands.”

******************

Back at home, they found Grant awaiting them. He gathered them together in the living room, then said, “Okay. I’ve been giving this a lot of thought. It seems there are three options open to me. The first is to move out. The second is as follows.” He took a deep breath, then paused, sniffing the air. “Did one of you have an accident at church?”

“Actually we all did,” said Lara, “but it’s okay – they were all very nice about it.”

Grant rolled his eyes. “I suppose I shouldn’t ask for details…”

“Probably not,” said Lara. “Please go on. Option two?”

“Oh yes. Option two: I stay, and we institute some ground rules.”

“What kind of rules?” asked Emma.

“First, that your mother has no more ‘accidents’ in bed. That’s not fair to me, and it’s unhygienic. If you can’t control your bowels while asleep, Lara, you should wear adult nappies, or incontinence panties, or whatever you want to call them. I don’t want to roll over in bed of a morning and find myself covered in poo.”

Lara nodded. “That seems reasonable.”

“Second, that all three of you keep your messes to certain designated areas – those being the girls’ rooms, the upstairs bathroom, and outdoors. I’m happy to use just the downstairs bathroom.”

“That’s fair,” said Emma.

“Third, that you don’t do anything to compromise my reputation in the community. Aside from being respected in the church, I’m a spokesman for the Royal Agricultural Society. I don’t want my name tarnished. So you are to keep your activities private. That means no more ‘accidents’ in school for you girls, and no more in church for any of you.”

“Hmm,” said Lara. “That could be tricky.”

“Fourth,” said Grant, “if you go anywhere with me, you dress decently. If there’s a chance you’ll have an accident, you are to wear incontinence panties.” He leaned back in his chair. “I’m sure there will be other rules, but you get the idea.”

“Wait – is this still option two?” asked Poppy.

“Yes,” said Grant.

“So what’s option three?” asked Lara.

Grant smiled grimly. “Option three: I let you do whatever you want, whenever and wherever you want. You can make a mess anywhere in the house, strip off in public, rub shit all over yourself in the supermarket – whatever.”

“I’m liking option three!” said Poppy to Emma.

“On one condition!” said Grant firmly.

“And what’s that?” asked Lara.

“That in return, you indulge my fantasies,” said Grant. “I do have a few, you know, and I’ve never shared them with you, Lara, because I felt sure you would never go for them. Now, however, things have changed.”

“Yes they have,” agreed Lara. “What sort of fantasies did you have in mind? And am I alone to fulfil them, or do you want to involve the girls as well?”

“Just you!” said Grant vehemently. “Unlike you I am not into incest or child abuse.”

“Hey, steady on Dad!” protested Emma. “We’re not children!”

“You’re still at school – that makes you a child in my eyes. Ten years ago, you’d have both been children in the law’s eyes too.”

“What fantasies?” pressed Lara.

“Oh. Well, um, I’d rather not discuss them in front of the childr… er, Emma and Poppy,” said Grant.

“Go on upstairs, girls,” said Lara.

“Oh Mum!” objected Poppy, but Emma got to her feet and pulled Poppy after her.

Upstairs, they tried to hear what their parents were talking about, but they could not – Lara and Grant were keeping their voices low. After twenty minutes, Lara came upstairs to find them.

“Well?” asked Emma anxiously.

“It’s option three,” said Lara.

Poppy whooped and threw her arms around Emma. Then both girls hugged Lara.

“So, what will you have to do?” asked Emma.

Lara smiled. “Your father apparently likes bondage,” she said. “He wants to tie me up and do nasty things to me.”

Both girls looked a little worried about this. “Um, what kind of nasty things?” inquired Emma.

Lara looked uncomfortable. “Well, nothing painful – not like whipping or anything like that. But … he wants to let spiders and cockroaches and other creepy things crawl over me. In fact he wants to put some of them inside me.”

Poppy and Emma looked at each other guiltily. “Er, Mum,” said Emma. “We kind of have a confession to make. Last night, when we injected your cunt with shit … there were some maggots in it.”

“Yes, I know,” said Lara casually. “I found some of them this morning in my panties.”

“Oh!” said Emma in surprise. “And you weren’t freaked out?”

“A little,” confessed Lara. “But then I discovered that the sheer horror of it was actually making me kind of … horny.” She smiled. “I put them back inside me. So maybe I’ll be okay with the bugs and the spiders and whatever else your dad wants to put on me, or in me.”

“Good for you, Mum!” said Emma proudly. Then something occurred to her. “Um, is Dad no longer concerned about his reputation and all that? I mean, if he’s allowing us to make a spectacle of ourselves anywhere we like?”

“Oh, he’s concerned,” said Lara. “But the loss of his reputation would hardly mean our financial ruin – we’re pretty well set, whatever happens. Of course he’d hate to lose his standing in the community, but for him the prospect of seeing me squirming under a seething mass of earthworms would apparently make it all worthwhile.” She shrugged. “Anyway, I’d better get on with lunch. You two go and do your chores.”

“Aww Mum!” Poppy pouted.

“Wearing just your messy panties,” added Lara with a wink.

Both girls giggled. “Okay!” said Poppy. She and Emma quickly stripped off everything but their panties, and then they skipped downstairs and ran outside, the bulges in their panties bouncing up and down and slapping their buttocks with each step.

******************

After lunch, which Emma and Poppy ate while still wearing nothing but their messy panties, Emma got a phone call. She popped open her cell and smiled when she saw Rosie’s avatar. The two girls had got along very well during their rehearsal the day before, and they had exchanged numbers. Pressing the pickup button, she watched as the screen expanded and Rosie’s image swam into view. Almost immediately she put her hands to her cheeks in shock.

“Good heavens, are you naked?” asked Rosie.

“Nearly,” said Emma cheerfully. She pointed the phone downwards a bit so Rosie could see her panties.

“Oh my God! And are they…”

“Yes, I crapped in them again,” said Emma, blushing slightly.

“Me too!” said Rosie naughtily, and she giggled. Then she lifted the back of her dress and turned so that Emma could see her bulging white panties. Then she quickly dropped her dress and turned back. “After your description of the effects yesterday,” she said, “I just had to try Brantasia for myself. Isn’t it amazing?”

“It is,” agreed Emma. “But I think you should know – I record all my calls.”

Rosie gasped in horror. “Oh my! You wouldn’t … show this to anyone, would you?”

Emma laughed. “Relax! Your secret’s safe with me. And Poppy – you don’t mind if I show her, do you?”

“I guess not,” said Rosie. She giggled again. “Now we just have to persuade Chloe to try Brantasia, and all four of us will be into it!”

Emma laughed. “That would be cool!” she said. “Maybe we could call our band ‘The Panty Poopers’!”

Rosie nodded excitedly. “So what else have you been up to?”

“What, besides shitting in our panties in church this morning?”

Rosie gasped. “You didn’t!”

“We did – all three of us, Mum included.”

“Your Mum’s into this too??”

Emma nodded. “Yes, she’s turning into quite the shit-slut. You should have seen the dress she wore to church. Her boobs kept falling out.”

Rosie giggled. “I wish I could have been there!”

“Hey, why don’t you come over?” suggested Emma. “You’re only half an hour away, right?”

“I’d love to, but I don’t think I could persuade my parents to bring me, and the public transport round here is pretty crappy.”

“Another time then,” said Emma. “But speaking of your parents, aren’t you worried they’ll discover you’ve got a load of shit in your panties?”

Rosie grinned. “I’m supposed to be studying. I asked them not to disturb me for the rest of the afternoon.”

Emma smiled. “So if I asked you to take off your dress, would you do it?”

Rosie blushed. “Now why would you ask me to do that?”

“Because ever since I saw your lovely boob yesterday, I’ve wanted to see more,” said Emma.

Rosie hung her head shyly. “Does this mean you’re a … a lesbian?”

“Yes,” said Emma. “Does that bother you?”

“No – not at all,” said Rosie. “They do say that more than fifty percent of girls have had a lesbian experience by the time they reach eighteen.”

“Really?” said Emma. “Wow – I wouldn’t have guessed it was that many. So – do you fall in that fifty percent?”

Rosie smiled and nodded. “And I have to say,” she said, rather coyly, “your breasts are much nicer than mine. I think they’re beautiful.”

“Well they’re certainly … huge,” said Emma, a little embarrassed, but pleased all the same. “Personally I’m more attracted to smaller breasts – like yours.”

“Then we appear to be made for each other,” said Rosie, batting her eyelashes attractively. Both girls laughed.

“All right, so how about this,” said Emma. “Next time we meet, I’ll let you suck on my boobs if you let me suck on yours.”

“Deal,” said Rosie, her eyes shining.

“Cool!” said Emma. “Um, Poppy might be a little jealous though. Would you consider letting her suck on your breasts too?”

“Oh! Um…” Rosie seemed a little taken aback for a moment, but then she shrugged. “Sure – she’s a lovely girl.”

“Good. So now that we’ve got that settled,” said Emma, “how about showing me those lovely boobs of yours?”

Rosie smiled, then she unbuttoned her dress and let it fall to the floor. Unhooking her bra at the back, she slipped it off her shoulders and dropped it on the bed behind her. Standing shyly with her hands clasped together in front of her panties, her upper arms squeezing her breasts together, she looked positively gorgeous.

“God Rosie, you look good enough to eat!” said Emma. “I can’t wait to see you on Tuesday evening.”

“Me too,” said Rosie. “You know – has it occurred to you that perhaps we’re not really the kind of girls Terry had in mind for this girl band? I mean, don’t you think we’ll feel a bit hypocritical singing about purity and abstinence and innocence and all that?”

“Perhaps,” said Emma with a grin. “But I for one am going to get a kick out of singing about purity and innocence while my cunt’s full of shit.”

Rosie’s jaw dropped. “Emma!” she said, somewhat shocked. “Have you really … I mean, is that safe?”

“I don’t know,” said Emma. “But it’s fun!”

Rosie looked thoughtful, then she suddenly started in fright. “Someone’s knocking at my door!” she hissed.

“I’ll let you go then,” said Emma. “See you on Tuesday!”

The screen of her cell went black, and shrank down into the body of the phone. She switched it off, then went in search of Poppy.

******************

That evening Lara helped the girls with their outfits for the next day. Since neither Poppy nor Emma felt very much inclined to cover their panties if they did not have to, they had asked her to cut their skirts as short as possible. When Lara had finished, Poppy’s little cotton skirt was merely a three-inch low-slung belt which covered the waistband of her panties but not much else, while Emma’s dress was so drastically reduced in length that it left half an inch of skin between the hem and the top of her panties. One of Poppy’s t-shirts turned into a crop-top so short that it revealed the lower curves of her breasts, and so low-cut that only a narrow string, running almost from one nipple to the other, held it together at the front. And Emma’s dress was given a very wide, deep neckline which covered her nipples but absolutely nothing between them. Neither girl planned to wear a bra. Emma picked out a pair of skimpy panties comprising a small white triangle at the front, a slightly larger triangle at the back, and strings connecting them which tied together at the sides. Poppy’s gauzy pink panties were sheer aside from an opaque gusset, which she carefully unpicked and removed so that her entire pussy would be visible through the transparent material.

After a late supper of Brantasia, the girls climbed into Poppy’s shit-heaped bed, pulled the covers over themselves, and made love until they fell asleep.

******************

The following morning during assembly at school, the headmaster had two new announcements to make. “I have good news and bad news,” he said. “First, the good news: the government is to award a substantial grant this Christmas to the school with the most pregnant girls. This grant would enable us to build a new gym and swimming pool, which as you know we badly need. So during this final week of term I want every girl of fourteen or over to have as much sex as possible, to ensure that you become pregnant before the holidays.

“The second piece of news is a little more grim,” he continued. “The government passed legislation this weekend which makes it much harder for the courts to convict a man accused of rape. The new law states that no man can be convicted of rape unless the victim’s account is corroborated by four male witnesses. Even then, if the accused man – or boy – claims that the victim consented beforehand, his word will be taken over the girl’s. And even if he admits his guilt, if witnesses testify that the victim was acting in a sexually provocative manner, or was wearing sexually enticing clothing, the accused can only be convicted of a lesser charge of Unwelcome Intercourse, which carries a penalty of three days in prison or a five-hundred pound fine. If it is his first offence, he may even get off with a warning.

“The upshot of all this,” he said, “is that the police are unlikely to pursue a complaint of rape, or bother to make an arrest for this crime. All you girls should therefore consider yourselves warned – don’t travel alone, and if you are raped…” He took a deep breath. “Try to enjoy it, because there’s very little point in complaining about it. That may sound harsh, but those are the facts. I should add, however, that any instances of rape in this school will be severely dealt with – I may not be able to press criminal charges but I shall ensure that any rapists among my boys are expelled immediately.

His expression turned less grave. “On a lighter note, since we’re encouraging our girls to have as much sex as possible, for this week only I will permit pupils to have sex anywhere in the school, as long as it is between lessons and not during. And in order to give you more time, I am reducing the length of all of this week’s lessons to half an hour, so you have fifteen minutes between lessons in which to have sex if you wish.

He smiled tightly. “And since apparently the girls’ outfits have not hitherto been sexy enough to entice some of the boys, all girls of fourteen or over are now forbidden to wear skirts, tops, shoes or socks. It’s bras and panties only – and that’s a maximum. Both items are optional – you may spend the week naked if you wish.”

Astonished murmurs rippled through the assembled pupils. “And for tomorrow’s swimming sports,” added the headmaster, “girls of fourteen or over may not wear swimsuits. A pair of panties is all I’ll allow – and even that is optional. That is all – have a good day.”

“I can’t believe it!” exclaimed Helen to Emma as they walked to their lockers. “The government’s gone mad!”

Emma shrugged. “You know, this time last week I think I’d have been a lot more bothered about this. But now I find I’m actually liking the idea of having to be nearly naked.”

“Well I guess I don’t mind, exactly,” said Helen. “It’s just … surprising.”

They reached their lockers and stripped off their outer clothes. Emma, who was not wearing a bra, was left in just her tie-sided panties, while Helen retained both her blue bra and her white panties. Looking around, they saw that most girls had opted to wear a bra and panties, but there were a few completely naked girls by the time they all dispersed to their first lesson of the day.

Emma was about to reach the physics classroom when she found herself grabbed and pinned against the wall by a tall seventeen-year-old boy named Steven. She had never liked him – he was fond of bullying smaller boys and he frequently made lecherous comments about the girls.

“God I love your tits, Emma,” he said, grabbing hold of them with his hands. “They’re so big and … juicy.” He pinched her nipples hard, and twisted them between his fingers.

“Ow!” said Emma, trying to push him away. “Stop that, Steven! It hurts!”

“Good,” he said with a nasty grin. He let go with one hand, which he shoved down inside the front of her panties. He pushed one finger inside her cunt. “Now, if I fuck you, are you going to cry rape?”

“Yes!” said Emma, suddenly frightened. “Take your filthy finger out of me, you arsehole!”

“Hey, leave her alone,” said another boy.

“Piss off, Robbie,” snarled Steven.

Robbie shrugged and headed off to his lesson, leaving Steven and Emma alone in the corridor. Steven grinned and pushed Emma down to the floor, where he held her down with one hand while he unzipped his trousers. At that moment Mrs Camberwick, one of the music teachers, came trotting down the corridor. She stopped when she saw Steven and Emma.

“Shouldn’t you two be getting to class?” she asked.

“Help!” said Emma. “He’s trying to rape me!”

“I’m not!” said Steven. “She’s only saying that because she’s embarrassed to be caught. She wants it really.” He took out his penis and started rubbing it against Emma’s panties.

“That’s not true!” cried Emma. “He’s really trying to rape me!”

“Well, dear,” said Mrs Camberwick, peering at Emma over the top of her glasses, “you should really let him do his thing. You want to get pregnant, don’t you?”

“No!” said Emma. “At least not by him!” She managed to free one hand, which she used to punch Steven hard in the temple.

“Damn!” said Steven, annoyed. He dealt Emma a resounding slap across the cheek. “Bitch!”

“Would you like me to hold her down?” asked Mrs Camberwick.

Steven grinned. “Yeah – you do that,” he said.

“What? Are you crazy?” demanded Emma, distraught. Next thing she knew, her arms were pulled out behind her head and her wrists were held down against the floor by Mrs Camberwick’s hands.

Steven laughed and grasped the ties at the sides of Emma’s panties. He started to pull on them, gradually reducing the size of the loops. Emma, her legs trapped beneath his shins, was powerless to stop him, and could only watch helplessly.

But then fate intervened. Her bowels gave a sudden lurch, and then a torrent of shit poured into the back of her panties, causing her to sigh involuntarily with pleasure, despite her predicament. Quickly the skimpy panties filled up, and shit began to splurge out of the sides and on to the hard tiled floor.

“Ugh, gross!” exclaimed Steven in disgust. “I can’t believe you just did that!” Recoiling from the oozing excrement, he got to his feet and marched off, fastening his fly as he went.

Mrs Camberwick let go of Emma’s wrists. “That was a nasty trick,” she said.

“Fuck you!” said Emma, carefully getting to her feet. She slapped the music teacher hard across the face. “You evil bitch – you were helping him to rape me!”

“It’s for the good of the country,” said Mrs Camberwick icily, pushing her glasses back into position. “You’ll regret slapping me, young lady – I promise you that.” With that she turned on her heel and walked off.

Emma, thoroughly shaken, but more angry now than scared, entered the physics classroom and headed for the back, where she could see Helen sitting alone at a double desk.

“Uh, Miss Greaves?” said Mr Falworth. “Would you like to pay a visit to the bathroom before you sit down?”

“Not really,” said Emma, and she sat down abruptly in the seat next to Helen, making a squelching sound as her buttocks met the plastic seat and forced her shit in all directions.

“Where did you go? What happened?” whispered Helen.

“I nearly got raped!” said Emma. “By Steven Darrow!”

“Oh my God!” said Helen. “But you managed to fight him off?”

“No – I shit my panties and he was so disgusted he walked off. But Mrs Camberwick – she was helping him! She held me down!”

Helen gasped in shock, then she grimaced, and lifted her bottom a few inches off the seat. Emma glanced down in surprise, and then smiled when she saw Helen’s clean white panties suddenly expand at the back as they filled up with warm, soft shit. Helen blushed in embarrassment. “I seem to be having a hard time predicting when it’s going to come out,” she confessed in a murmur.

“Well, I’d suggest not cleaning up for a while,” said Emma. “It may save you from getting raped.”

Several other girls filled their panties during that lesson, and by mid-morning at least half the girls in Emma’s classes had done so. It seemed that news of Brantasia’s effects had spread fast, and nobody who had given it a try had been put off by the results.

During the fifteen-minute break between third lesson and fourth, the corridors were filled with messy bottoms and bulging panties. Some of those girls who remained clean were spending break having sex, either in the corridors or in the classrooms, but despite the sexually-charged environment, many of the boys seemed perfectly content just to watch the parade of naked female flesh, and seemed disinclined to actually have sex. Those boys who actually had a healthy libido were making the most of it, but there were too few of them to go around all the girls.

Emma ran into Poppy, who also had full panties … and nothing else on. “Hi Em!” said Poppy. “What’s up?“

“I nearly got raped this morning,” said Emma, and she told Poppy about Steven.

Poppy shuddered. “That’s kind of scary,” she said. “Although I am just dying to have sex. But nobody seems interested! I’m very disappointed in the boys at this school.”

“You could always try Steven,” said Emma.

“Ooh no,” said Poppy, grimacing. “I don’t like him one bit, and anyway, it sounds like he’d be turned off by my messy panties – which I refuse to remove just yet.”

“We could always have some fun of our own – just the two of us,” said Emma.

Poppy grinned. “Why Emma, whatever do you mean?” she asked in mock innocence.

“I mean, I want to get naked and messy with you,” said Emma in a low, husky voice. “I want to shove my shit up your cunt, and puke into your mouth, and pee all over your boobs.”

Poppy closed her eyes and smiled. “Sounds lovely,” she said. “But somehow I don’t think we’ll find anywhere here where we can do that without being disturbed.”

Emma nodded. “Well … perhaps we could skive off for the rest of the morning?” she suggested.

Poppy’s eyes snapped open in surprise. “You mean – walk out of school? Like this?”

“Not like this,” said Emma, trying to imagine how it would look for them to walk down the streets wearing only shitty panties. “We’ll put something on, sneak out, and find a nice quiet spot where we can get really nasty together.”

“Okay,” said Poppy. “What about the changing room? We could put on our tennis clothes and then sneak out of the back.”

“Excellent idea!” said Emma. “Let’s do it.”

And so, ten minutes later, the two sisters were creeping along the outside of the main school building, wearing their short white tennis skirts, white trainers, and little white crop-tops. The skirts were new regulation issue for this term, and covered their buttocks with just two inches to spare. Beneath those skirts each girl still wore her messy, shit-filled panties.

Nobody saw them, and five minutes later they were chatting and giggling as they made their way into town along the narrow pavement at the side of the main street. It was a beautiful day and it felt good to be outside, but Emma kept looking back and forth for likely-looking locales for their tryst. Finally she stopped, smiling.

“How about that?” she asked.

Poppy looked, and screwed up her nose. “The public toilet? Eww!”

“Hardly anyone ever uses it,” said Emma.

“And nobody ever cleans it!” said Poppy.

Emma grinned. “So it should be nice and filthy,” she said.

Poppy thought about this, and a slow smile crept across her face. “The men’s will be filthier than the women’s,” she remarked.

“Probably,” agreed Emma. “I’m game if you are.”

“I’m game,” said Poppy.

Looking around nervously to see if anyone was looking, the two girls hesitated, then hurried into the door marked with a little stick-man figure.

The smell inside was awful – stale urine and shit, days, weeks or even months old for all they knew. There were flies everywhere. Poppy went into one of the stalls. “Ugh, gross, come and look at this Emma!”

Emma followed her sister into the stall, and nearly retched at the sight and smell of the toilet therein. The flush handle was dangling uselessly from the back wall and was obviously broken. The bowl contained the accumulated excrement, mounded almost to seat height, of perhaps several dozen men who had probably been too drunk to care or even notice that they were not sitting atop a clean bowl. The floor was coated with vomit, with an occasional turd here and there. Even the walls were streaked with shit.

“Doesn’t it make you want to throw up?” said Poppy, staring in fascination at the pile of shit in the toilet bowl.

“Uh-huh,” said Emma. She stooped down and picked up a couple of small turds from the floor. “Turn around.”

As Poppy turned, Emma planted the two turds against Poppy’s breasts, and then squished them, mashing them into Poppy’s crop-top. Poppy gaped and stared down at her chest. “Eww, Emma!” she said. “Look what you’re doing to my clothes!” But she made no attempt to stop her sister. Instead she glanced at her wrist and said, “Hey, wouldn’t it be cool to record this?”

Emma smiled. “I like that idea,” she said. “Give me your phone – it takes better movies.”

Poppy slipped her phone off her wrist and handed it to Emma, who clipped it to the top of the stall’s doorframe, set it to wide-angle, hit the record button, and pointed it down towards the toilet. Then she resumed smearing shit all over Poppy’s breasts until the white crop-top was completely brown in front. Satisfied, she said, “Pull down your panties, Poppy, and step out of them.”

Poppy obediently did so, taking care not to lose any shit from inside her panties. Then she allowed Emma to position her in front of the toilet bowl, facing the open door of the stall. Emma smiled at her, and then pressed down on her shoulders. Biting her lip nervously, Poppy let herself be pushed down until she was sitting on the seat. In this position, the summit of the shit mountain in the bowl was rubbing against her vagina.

“Actually I have a better idea,” said Emma. “Stand up again and close your eyes.”

Poppy stood, closed her eyes, and Emma quietly reached down and lifted up the seat. “Now sit down again.”

Poppy sat down slowly, and then shrieked as her buttocks failed to find a seat, and fell right through into the bowl itself. The mountain of shit gave way beneath her, oozing into every crevice, slithering over her pussy and squishing up between her thighs. It moulded itself around her buttocks, rubbing against her anus and creeping up her back. All this was concealed from Emma by the tennis skirt which Poppy was still wearing.

“I’m stuck!” wailed Poppy, having sunk so deeply into the toilet bowl that she was practically bent double, her knees pressing against her shoulders.

“Now, I think, I’m going to be sick,” said Emma. “Open your mouth, Poppy.”

Poppy stopped struggling for a moment, and she lifted up her face and opened her mouth to receive Emma’s gift. Emma did not even need to stick her fingers down her throat – the smell still had her on the verge of throwing up. She merely sniffed her shit-covered fingers (and this was very nasty shit, not like the nice, soft, healthy shit that she had been producing ever since she started eating Brantasia), and that was enough to send her over the edge. Vomit surged up her gullet and poured out of her mouth, showering Poppy’s face and splashing liberally into her mouth. Poppy drank it down as if it was nectar, though doing so soon made her, too, throw up – vomit cascaded from her mouth all over Emma’s clean white skirt.

“Naughty,” Emma scolded her sister. She lifted her skirt, pulled open the front of her panties, and stepped forward, crouching until her pussy was just inches from Poppy’s face. “Have you any more?”

Poppy had – she leaned forward and puked directly into Emma’s panties. Emma let go of her waistband and then rubbed the front of her panties, mashing Poppy’s vomit into her pussy. Then she reached behind her and pulled a handful of shit from the back of her panties. Holding it out to Poppy, she said simply, “Eat.”

Poppy eagerly closed her mouth over a large chunk of Emma’s shit. She chewed it up slowly, swallowed it, then went back for more. Soon she was licking the last bits from Emma’s fingers, leaving nothing but a slimy brown mud which was a mixture of her saliva and Emma’s shit. Since Poppy’s tongue was coated brown by now, this was as clean as she could get Emma’s hand.

“Stay there,” said Emma, unnecessarily. She left the stall and went into the next one. She was delighted to find that it was even more disgusting than the first. This toilet was actually overflowing with shit, and there was plenty piled on the floor. This led Emma to suspect that there was more to this story than met the eye – surely even men would not attempt to shit into a toilet that was already overflowing with the stuff. Possibly this was all the result of some disgusting college prank, or some such thing. At any rate she was not about to waste such a bounty. Though the idea repelled her, she could not help envying her sister’s predicament, stuck in a toilet and sitting in the combined shit of who knew how many different men.

Unclipping her phone from her wrist, she clipped it on to the doorframe of her own stall and started recording. Her phone was a year older than Poppy’s, and did not produce quite such glossy movies, but it would suffice.

Lifting first the toilet seat and then her skirt, but keeping her panties on, Emma lowered herself on to the mound of shit. It pressed damply against her panties (men had been pissing all over it too, and not that long ago), and then, with a sigh, Emma let herself fall in. The shit splurged everywhere, splatting on to the floor around the toilet, and as Emma sank down into the shit, she thrust both her arms down between her legs, ensuring that when she finally settled down as far as she could, her arms were pinned so tightly she could not free them. Only her hands, pressed deep into the very bottom of the bowl, had any freedom of movement at all. Fortunately they could reach her vagina, and so she amused herself by pulling the gusset of her panties to one side and thrusting a couple of fingers inside her cunt. She even managed to push a couple of hard lumps of shit inside herself.

“What are you doing over there?” asked Poppy.

“I’ve just got myself stuck, just like you,” said Emma. “There was even more shit in this toilet.”

“What??” exclaimed Poppy. “However are we going to get out? I can’t move, you know!”

“I know,” said Emma. “I guess we’ll just have to wait for some nice gentlemen to come and help us get out.”

There was silence for a moment from the other stall. Then Poppy said nervously, “Oh God.”

Emma had not been exaggerating when she had said that people hardly ever used these toilets. In truth she had no idea whether it would be five minutes or five hours before anybody showed up. After half an hour, tired of waiting for something to happen, Emma made a concerted effort to free herself. But she had done her job too well – she could not move.

“How hard have you tried to get out?” she asked her sister.

“Not very,” said Poppy. “But I’m getting pretty tired of this, so if it’s all right with you…”

“It’s all right with me,” said Emma. “I’m tired too.”

For a few minutes all she heard was puffing and panting from the next stall, but then another sound gradually arose from a background hum to a noisy roaring close by. It was the sound of motorbikes – a lot of motorbikes.

“Damn it!” cried Poppy. “I just don’t have the strength!”

“But Poppy, your arms are free. How hard could it possibly be?”

“Hard!” said Poppy. “I’m wedged in here so tightly … and I can’t get enough leverage on the bloody rim of the toilet.”

“Shh!” said Emma, hearing voices outside.

Then a couple of men appeared from around the corner, unzipping their leather trousers as they approached. They stopped, however, when they saw the girls. “What the fuck?” said one of them.

Emma felt suddenly afraid. But this was what she had been hoping for when she got herself stuck, so she swallowed, cleared her throat, and said, as bravely as she could, “Hello sirs. My sister and I will be your toilets for today. Feel free to pee, shit or puke on either of us.”

“Fuck!” exclaimed the younger of the two men, impressed. “Well now that you mention it, I do need to take a dump.” He looked from Emma to Poppy, and back again, and then he grinned and came into Emma’s stall.

“Do your parents know you’re here?” asked the older man, frowning.

“Fuck their parents!” said the younger man. “Christ, Bertie – just drop your keks and give the brunette a blonde wash!”

Bertie shrugged and took his dick out, advancing into Poppy’s stall. “So what are you going to do?” he asked. “Open your mouth?”

Poppy nervously nodded and opened her mouth wide. A moment later, she was half-drinking, half choking on Bertie’s urine. Meanwhile, Emma was staring at the anus of the younger man, who was just beginning to push. Almost immediately, a spray of liquid shit fired from his rectum, showering Emma’s face and chest. It smelled terrible, and Emma would have recoiled if she could have moved at all. Instead she closed her eyes and kept her lips tightly sealed until the deluge had stopped. By this time her hair was full of diarrhoea, shit was dripping off her face, and her white top was soaked brown.

“Thank you,” she managed, fighting the urge to throw up again, while her fingers rubbed furiously at her clitoris. She shuddered in a powerful orgasm.

“Wait till the others hear about this!” said the younger man to Bertie, as they left the building without washing their hands.

“You okay?” asked Emma.

“Sure,” said Poppy. “That was nasty though.”

“I’ve a feeling it’s about to get nastier…” said Emma.

A moment later, several more bikers entered, and each gasped at the sight of the two young girls, stuck bottom-first in the two toilet bowls. After a brief ogle, they eagerly took out their penises or dropped their trousers, and one after the other they peed or defecated on one or other of the two sisters. Sometimes they did both. And the bikers kept coming and coming. Fifteen minutes later, Poppy had two large, soft turds draped over her head, and a few others tucked into her crop-top, while Emma had had her top removed and was now being forced to suck on one of the penises that had just peed on her, while other men grabbed and squeezed her breasts.

Shortly afterwards, Emma found herself hoisted upward by strong arms. With a sucking sound as her bottom came free, she was pulled out of the toilet bowl, whereupon she was relieved to discover she could now move her arms again. This freedom of movement was short-lived, however, as she was forced to her knees, facing the toilet bowl, and her arms were thrust back down into the shit. Her panties were pulled down and her bottom and pussy were given a cursory wipe-down. Then something pressed against the opening of her vagina, and she winced as it was shoved home, deep into her cunt. After a few quick thrusts, she felt a small rush of fluid inside her, and realised that some man she did not know – whose face she could not even see – had just fucked her and come inside her. This should have been a beautiful experience…

“I think you should know,” she said, her voice unsteady, “that this was my first time.”

“You’re kidding!” said a voice behind her. “Woo hoo! I’ve just taken her virginity!”

“Yeah right,” said another voice. “Like a virgin’s really going to be hanging around in a gents’ toilet, up to her armpits in shit, saying she’s our toilet. Get real.”

“It’s true!” said Emma. Then she gasped as something pressed against her anus. “Ow-ow-ow-ow!” she cried, as a thick penis, lubricated with shit, forced her sphincter open and then slid slowly into her rectum. She clenched her teeth tightly in pain, but after a couple of minutes, the burning in her anus gradually subsided enough for her to relax. Once this happened, the sensation of the slow, rhythmical thrusting back and forth in her rectum became almost comfortable. After a further couple of minutes, when somebody began pushing lumps of shit into her vagina, she got so excited that she felt an orgasm approaching. “Oh yes!” she murmured. “Fill me with shit! Rub shit into my clit!”

Poppy, meanwhile, was losing her own virginity to a very fat biker named Tucker. She too had just been pulled out of the toilet bowl, and Tucker was the only one so far who wanted to fuck her despite her messiness. So he stripped her naked, laid her down on the shit- and vomit-covered floor, and stuck his erection into her virgin cunt while another biker – a woman this time – defecated directly into her mouth, having ordered her to eat it all, or else.

So Poppy tearfully ate mouthful after mouthful of horrid-tasting shit from the woman’s anus, until she could take no more and threw up all over the floor next to her. The woman just laughed, scooped up handfuls of vomit and shit, and plastered them over Poppy’s naked chest. Then she insisted that Poppy lick her hands clean – which Poppy did, to the best of her ability.

Tucker soon came inside her, but once he pulled out he was replaced by another biker, who had suddenly become less fastidious now that Tucker had rubbed some of the shit off Poppy’s pussy. And after he spurted his semen into her, another biker stepped up, turned her over, and made her lick the floor while he worked his massive cock into her tight virgin anus. Poppy burst into tears as she licked the floor, her anus screaming in pain as it was penetrated for the first time. The female biker was watching all this with a gleam in her eyes and a hand in her panties, rubbing furiously at her clit.

Over the next couple of hours, both girls had similar experiences. Emma lost the rest of her clothing, Poppy got rectally raped so much that her anus would not close properly, both girls’ cunts were filled with sperm until they were leaking it all over the floor, Poppy was made to suck two penises at once (both of which came into her mouth), and Emma got coated from head to toe in shit from her toilet bowl, which one of the more adventurous bikers had had no qualms about picking up in his bare hands. During this time both girls also pooped massively, which the bikers thought was hilarious.

When all forty-five bikers had emptied their bladders, their rectums and their testicles (those that had them) on to or into one or other of the two girls, they finally left the building, leaving Emma and Poppy lying naked in lumpy puddles of filth. For several minutes neither could move, and if anybody had come in during that time, they would have been able to have their way with either one without encountering any resistance at all.

Eventually, long after the sounds of the motorbikes had vanished into the distance, Emma struggled up into a sitting position. This was a bad idea – her anus stung like fire. Stifling a squeal of pain, she turned on to her side, and then pushed herself up to her hands and knees. From there it was a relatively simple matter to get to her feet. She wobbled unsteadily through to her sister’s stall. Poppy was lying face down, her legs spread wide, her anus still gaping open. A fly flew into her rectum, and then flew out again.

“Hi Poppy,” said Emma gently, sitting down (carefully, resting on one buttock) next to her sister. She picked up some small chunks of shit and started pushing them into Poppy’s anus. “How are you doing, my love?”

Poppy groaned. “I never knew … losing your virginity … would hurt so much!” she said.

“Well it’s not supposed to hurt that much,” said Emma ruefully.

“Yeah, I know,” said Poppy, with more than a trace of bitterness. “Great idea of yours, this was.”

“Yeah,” said Emma guiltily. ”I’m sorry – I never imagined fifty bikers would come in here and gang-rape us.”

“Just – help me up, will you?” said Poppy.

Leaning on each other, both girls managed to get to their feet. “Where’re my clothes?” asked Poppy.

“Looks like they took them away as souvenirs,” said Emma. “They did that to mine.”

“So we have to walk out of here naked?” asked Poppy, alarmed.

“I think so,” said Emma apologetically. “But at least we can use the basins to get clean.”

“We need to call Mum,” said Poppy. “She’ll be expecting to pick us up soon.”

Emma nodded and retrieved her phone, stopping the recording as she did so. She called Lara and asked her not to pick them up until five o’clock – this, she figured, would give them plenty of time to clean up and get back to school

For the best part of the next hour, the girls washed themselves clean in front of the basins, paying particular attention to their hair, which was completely saturated with shit. After several washes and rinses, they were finally satisfied that the only shit remaining was either in their cunts or in Poppy’s anus, which had finally closed up. And they were perfectly happy with that.

Ready to face the world again, though very nervous about being naked, they stepped cautiously outside. The school was just a quarter of a mile away, but there were a great many pedestrians between it and them. Plucking up their courage, they decided to make a run for it. Not ten yards from the toilet, unfortunately, their ordeal caught up with them, and their shaking legs threatened to collapse under them.

Obliged to walk at a much more sedate pace, they aroused the ire of several passers-by, who threatened to call the police. A car stopped next to them and the driver, a grinning Indian man in his fifties, offered them a lift, but they nervously declined.

Back at the school, they slipped in through the changing room and both of them took a long, proper shower, which made them feel ten times better. They even washed out their cunts, and gave their pussies a fresh shave. Afterwards, with no underwear to put on, they simply walked into the main school naked. It was four-thirty and the school was practically deserted. Neither girl had had any lunch, so they fetched their fridge-boxes from their lockers and sat in one of the classrooms, eating Brantasia with milk. Then they put on the outer clothing which they had been required to remove that morning, and went outside to wait for Lara.

“Bother!” said Emma suddenly, clutching her wrist. “I must have left my phone in the changing room. Wait here and watch out for Mum while I fetch it.”

“Okay,” said Poppy.

Emma trotted back through the school, but she paused as she was about to enter the changing room. It were unisex – a recent innovation of the current headmaster – and she could hear male voices inside. No doubt they had just finished playing football. For a moment she considered abandoning her mission, but then she thought about what would happen if someone else got hold of her phone and played the movie she had recorded this afternoon. Taking a deep breath, she entered the room and made straight for where she had left her phone.

She almost ran into Steven Darrow, who was wearing just a towel. “What have we here?” he said, grabbing her by the wrists. His eyes flashed dangerously.

“Let go, Steven!” said Emma.

There were several other boys nearby, and a couple of girls, both of whom were naked. “Is this the girl who shit herself this morning, Steve?” asked one of them.

“Yup,” said Steven.

The girl grinned nastily. “She looks pretty clean now – maybe you should finish what you started.”

“No!” said Emma urgently.

“Thanks Donna, I think I will,” said Steven. He pushed Emma to the floor and spread her legs.

“Want some lubricant?” asked Donna, picking up a small bottle of baby oil.

“No thanks,” said Steven. “No pain no gain, as they say.” He pulled off his towel and pushed his erect penis against the opening of Emma’s vagina. She screamed and struggled, but this only made the onlookers laugh and cheer. One of them crouched down and pulled her top up, exposing her breasts.

“That’s a heck of a pair of mammaries!” he said.

“Mammaries? What are you, a biologist?” asked Donna. “She’s got big fucking tits. Big deal.”

With a few quick thrusts, Steven managed to bury his cock deep in Emma’s cunt. She bit her lip and tried not to cry. A few moments later, Steven groaned as he pumped spurt after spurt of semen deep into her body.

“Oh God, that’s so hot,” said Donna, stroking her clitoris. “Mick, why don’t you fuck me?” She bent over a bench, spreading her feet and thrusting her bottom out, and one of the boys pulled out his penis and shoved it into her.

Steven climbed off Emma, but another boy, Ben, eagerly took his place. Emma, fearing another gang-rape, said desperately, “My Mum and sister are waiting outside! They know I’m in here! If I don’t get back to them, they’ll come looking for me!”

“So we’ll fuck them too!” said one of the boys, laughing.

“Oh forget it,” said Steven, pulling Ben off Emma. “Leave the girl alone.”

Emma quickly got up and ran to where she had left her phone. It was still there, so she fastened it to her wrist. Then she pulled her top down to cover her breasts, and ran back towards the door. Steven, however, caught her by the arm as she passed.

“You’re my girlfriend now, okay?” he said.

Emma did not dare gainsay him, for fear of being raped again. “Okay,” she said in a small voice.

He let her go, and she ran out of the changing room and back to the front of the school.

“What the hell took you so long?” asked Poppy. “Mum’s out there.”

“Steven was there – he raped me!” said Emma tearfully as they walked to Lara’s car. “Now he says I’m his girlfriend.”

“That bastard!” exclaimed Poppy. “Don’t worry Emma – I’ll sort him out for you!”

They climbed into the car. “What’s wrong, Emma?” asked Lara.

“Nothing,” said Emma sullenly, wiping her eyes.

“Look what I wore to the supermarket today!” said Lara, in an attempt to cheer her up. She was wearing a pale blue dress, which she had cut to the level of the waistband of her panties. “I filled my panties in the pasta aisle,” she said, with a touch of pride. “I got thrown out of the shop!”

Emma managed a smile. “Good for you, Mum,” she said.

******************

At home that evening, Emma began to feel a little better. Her rape by Steven somehow did not seem quite so significant in the light of her previous gang-rape by a score of bikers. The boy was certainly a jerk, but at least he had stopped her from being raped by any of the other boys. And he did have quite a nice body…

She and Poppy spent most of the evening editing the movies they had recorded in the filthy public toilet. Using Poppy’s desk computer, they cut out all the boring bits and intercut Poppy’s movie with Emma’s, so that the timeline was kept roughly consistent. They were so into it that even when they filled their panties with shit, they did not allow this to distract them from their task. By midnight they had constructed a three-hour rough-cut, which they saved on to their website in a private folder.

Worn out after their long, eventful day, they brushed their teeth and then climbed into Emma’s bed together, for once wishing to remain at least fairly clean. As they cuddled together in the dark, Poppy said, “Emma – do you want to get married?”

Surprised, Emma said, “I suppose so. Well, yes – I do. Eventually.”

“I mean – to me,” said Poppy in a small voice.

Emma was so astonished she switched her bedside light on. “To you? Are you … are you proposing to me, Poppy?”

Poppy nodded, and blushed. “We can – I checked. We’re old enough, and although fathers and daughters can’t get married, or brothers and sisters, there’s no law that says sisters can’t marry each other.”

Emma’s thoughts were in a turmoil. It was a crazy idea – and yet… She smiled. It was perfect!

“I’d love to marry you, Poppy,” she said. “Let’s do it!”

Poppy beamed, and flung her arms around Emma. Then they locked lips, and entwined their tongues around each other. When Emma pulled away, she said, “Do we both get to wear engagement rings?”

“Definitely!” said Poppy happily.

******************

The next day, Emma and Poppy went to school wearing nothing but a pair of panties each. By ten o’clock both pairs were full of shit, but by now they felt no embarrassment about it, since most of the other girls in their classes were doing the same. Their teachers had become used to these accidents now, and most of them just rolled their eyes whenever they saw a girl lift her bottom off her seat or heard her moan loudly in orgasm.

Messy panties were rarely being cleaned out between lessons by this point, and the corridors were full of girls walking about nonchalantly with their panties full of shit. Some of the boys enjoyed this spectacle, but most were turned off. This was not lost on some of the teachers, who reported the problem to the headmaster.

At noon, as fourth lesson was ending, his voice came over the tannoy. “Pupils, your attention please. It has come to my attention that many of the girls have been having accidents in their panties. I understand that this is one of the effects of a cereal called Brantasia. As of this moment, all girls are forbidden to eat Brantasia in school. Moreover, any girl who has an accident must clean up immediately, and as a punishment spend the rest of the day completely nude. All girls who are currently wearing messy panties must clean up within the next half hour, or they will have to spend the rest of the day naked. Thank you.”

“That sucks!” exclaimed Emma to Helen. She loved having shit in her panties and had no desire to clean up.

“It does,” agreed Helen, whose panties were also bulging with shit.

Fifteen minutes later, however, both of them were clean, albeit naked, having washed out their panties and hung them up to dry. Now Emma started attracting more male attention in the corridors, though she managed to successfully rebuff all advances. Fortunately she did not see Steven. During sixth lesson that afternoon, Emma had her second accident of the day, but without any panties she simply made a large pile on the seat, which she then sat down on with a happy sigh.

There was no seventh lesson, because today was the swimming sports – an event which began at three o’clock. Emma was not a strong swimmer and was not taking part, but Poppy was an accomplished breast-stroker and had two races scheduled.

The headmaster’s comments about needing a new gym and pool were not made lightly. Both facilities were located in an old, dilapidated, pest-ridden building which all the pupils hated. The changing rooms had plaster peeling off the walls, missing floor tiles, broken lighting fixtures, and a host of other shortcomings too numerous to mention, and too expensive to fix. Cockroaches swarmed everywhere, and frequently got into the pupils’ clothing, despite many attempts to eradicate them.

Poppy, who was not wearing any clothing, had little to worry about from the roaches, although she jumped when one ran across her foot. She donned her goggles and wandered through into the main pool area, which was slimy and grimy and altogether gross. If it had not been for the strong smell of chlorine, she would have half-expected to see algae growing in the pool.

The races began, and the assembled pupils cheered and whooped whenever a half-dozen naked girls lined up at the shallow end. In Poppy’s first race, only one of her five fellow competitors was wearing panties. At the end of the race, however, as the girl left the water, these were completely transparent, so she might as well not have bothered.

Emma, watching from the benches, stared in puzzlement at a small brown object slowly drifting along the bottom of the pool. Elsewhere in the pool, she spotted another, and then another. All three objects seemed somewhat diffuse, and changed shape as they moved. Then it dawned on her that some of the contestants must have had accidents in the water, the evidence only becoming apparent well after the fact, when the choppy water had settled down a bit.

As race followed race, the number of brown objects increased in number, and some of them broke up, so that eventually there were pieces of shit on the pool floor just about everywhere Emma looked. One girl, standing up in the shallow end, said “Eww! I just stepped in poo!”, making everyone laugh, aside from the headmaster, who eventually called a halt to the entire proceedings before storming off in fury.

“So that’s it? No prizes?” asked Lottie of Poppy as they headed back to the changing rooms.

“I guess not,” said Poppy. “Maybe he’ll hand some out at prize-giving tomorrow.” She spotted a cardboard box sitting against a wall, and an idea occurred to her. “Hey Lottie, can you give me a hand with something?” she asked.

“Sure,” said Lottie. “What do you have in mind?”

Poppy grinned. “Roach-catching,” she said.

******************

That evening, when Grant returned home from work, he was met by Poppy and her cardboard box. “Hi Poppy,” he said. “Aren’t you cold?”

“No,” said Poppy. “Have a look inside this box.” She put it down in front of him.

Grant bent down and pulled back the flaps. A cockroach ran on to his hand, making him jump. “Jesus!” he exclaimed. Then he saw that inside the box was a seething mass of roaches. “Holy cow!” he said. “Where did you get these?”

“The swimming pool changing rooms,” said Poppy. “The place is crawling with them. I thought you might want to use these on Mum.”

Grant folded up the box again, and stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Hmm,” he said, a smile coming to his lips. “I believe I shall. Thank you, Poppy.”

Emma and Poppy had arranged with their fellow band-members to rehearse that evening at the farm, and Lara had suggested that Rosie and Chloe should come to supper. So the six of them sat down to dinner at six o’clock, Lara wearing a dress which only just covered her bottom and nipples.

Afterwards, when the girls gathered together in the living room, Rosie whispered to Emma, “Your mum’s hot!”

Emma smiled. “Yes, I guess she is,” she said.

“The other day, when we were here, she seemed much … different.”

“She was,” said Emma, “but Poppy and I helped her discover her true nature.”

“What happened to your mum?” asked Chloe. “Why’s she dressed like that?”

“It’s kind of a funny story,” said Poppy. “A few days ago she was yelling at us for crapping in our panties and stuff, and we were all upset and everything, but then we realised that as she was standing there yelling at us, her own panties were crammed full of shit!”

“Blimey!” said Chloe, shocked. “Talk about hypocrisy!”

“Exactly. So we kind of punished her and made her realise what a hypocrite she was, and that she really enjoys shitting in her panties and showing off her body. And now she’s as much of an exhibitionist and shit-slut as me or Emma.”

“But what is the deal with all this panty-pooping stuff?” asked Chloe in bewilderment. “I just don’t get it.”

“Try Brantasia,” said Rosie. “You’ll get it.”

“Yes!” said Emma. “Oh you’ve got to try it, Chloe – it’s the most amazing thing. You’ll have the best orgasms – and you won’t even need to touch yourself!”

“But I’ll end up with my panties full of shit,” said Chloe. “I’m not sure that’s a great trade-off.”

“Just try it,” urged Poppy. “Look, you don’t have to shit in your panties if you don’t want to. If you feel the need, just run to the bathroom. It’s the pooping itself that feels so nice.”

“Hmm – I don’t know,” said Chloe.

“Try it!” said Rosie.

“Yes – please try it!” said Emma.

“You won’t regret it!” said Poppy.

“All right – I’ll try it,” said Chloe. “Just this once!”

Poppy clapped her hands and ran off to fetch Chloe a bowl of Brantasia. As she left the room, her panties flashing beneath her tiny skirt, Chloe said, “She really loves to show her knickers, doesn’t she?”

“So do I,” said Emma. “Of course, it helps that our school is now requiring us to wear just a bra and panties as a maximum. And if we mess our panties, we have to spend the rest of the day naked.”

“Jeez!” said Chloe. “And I thought it was bad at our school! We have to wear skirts that show part of our panties, but most of us go with the maximum possible length. Oh, and we have to wear these awful slogans on our chests – things like ‘I NEED COCK’ and ‘I LIKE IT DOGGY-STYLE’.”

“We had to wear those last week,” said Emma, “but I guess those labels went by the wayside when the headmaster banned tops.”

“How about you, Rosie?” asked Chloe. “What’s it like at your school?”

“Well,” said Rosie, “officially we’re allowed to wear a top with a slogan and some kind of skirt, but last week our principal introduced a new rule stating that girls disobeying school rules would have clothing privileges removed. One infraction means you have to lose either the skirt or the top. Two infractions means you lose both. Three means you’re down to your panties, and four means you have to be naked.”

“And what are you down to?” asked Emma curiously.

Rosie blushed. “Well, my first four accidents in class lost me all my clothing privileges – so I have to go to school naked for the rest of term.”

“Wow!” said Emma, impressed. “That I’d like to see!”

Rosie blushed, and Chloe chuckled. “You two want a room?” she asked.

“Maybe later,” said Emma, smiling at Rosie.

“Good grief, you do want a room!” exclaimed Chloe. “When did this happen?”

“Oh hush, nothing’s happened yet,” said Rosie.

“Not yet,” agreed Emma.

“Wow, I felt sure I must be the only lesbian in this group,” said Chloe.

Rosie and Emma stared at her. “You’re a lesbian?” inquired Emma in surprise.

Chloe nodded. “Yeah – but I have a girlfriend, so don’t get any ideas.”

“Are you, um, totally lesbian?” asked Rosie. “Or do you like guys too?”

“Totally lesbian,” said Chloe. “I kind of enjoy seeing guys drool on account of what I’m wearing, but this body isn’t for them. It’s for Harriet, and Harriet alone.”

“Lucky Harriet,” said Emma.

“Thanks,” said Chloe, batting her eyelashes with a polite smile. “So I guess … Poppy’s the only hetero girl in our band?”

Emma snorted. “Don’t you believe it. She’s plenty bi, just like me. In fact…” She looked from Rosie to Chloe, and back again. “She and I have been … um…”

Both other girls gasped. “You’re kidding!” said Chloe. “You’re sisters!”

Emma blushed and nodded. “I know,” she said. “But it’s not like we’re going to propagate mutants or anything – we can hardly get each other pregnant. So what’s the harm?”

“Well I guess there’s no harm in it,” said Chloe. “But … well, it’s damn weird if you ask me!”

Rosie was looking a little rueful. “I kind of suspected,” she said, “but I wasn’t sure. On the phone you didn’t exactly spell it out…”

“I’m sorry,” said Emma. “I should have done.”

“Here’s your Brantasia!” said Poppy, coming back into the room. “Did I miss anything?”

“Just the little revelation that we’re all lesbians,” said Emma.

Poppy stared at Chloe. “Really? You too?”

Chloe nodded as she took the bowl of cereal from Poppy. She ate a mouthful and screwed her face up. “It’s a bit bland,” she said. “Can I have some sugar with it?”

“Sure,” said Poppy, and she quickly fetched some. “So,” she said, smiling at Chloe, “you’re a lesbian. That’s so cool!”

“She has a girlfriend,” said Emma, “called Harriet.”

“I hate her already,” said Poppy.

Chloe almost choked on her cereal as she laughed at this. “You’re sweet,” she said to Poppy with a smile, after she had swallowed her mouthful.

“So, I guess hot four-way sex is out then?” said Emma with an impish grin.

“Alas, yes,” said Chloe. “But don’t let me stop you three – I wouldn’t mind seeing you all get into each other.”

Strangely, this made Emma, Poppy and Rosie all feel a little shy.

“I’m not sure…” said Rosie, staring at her shoes.

“You want me to leave the room?” asked Chloe.

“No, of course not,” said Emma. “Look, we should probably rehearse.”

“Good idea,” said Rosie, relieved.

“Aww!” said Poppy, disappointed.

“Fuck rehearsing,” said Chloe, “this is way too much fun. Come on – let’s turn it into a game if you’re all too nervous. We could play Truth or Dare.”

“Sounds like fun,” said Emma. “You up for that, Rosie?”

Rosie nodded.

“I’ll start,” said Chloe. “Poppy – truth or dare?”

“Dare!” said Poppy immediately.

Chloe laughed. “Okay – I dare you to take off your top.”

Poppy did not hesitate, and since she was not wearing a bra, she was soon topless. Chloe smiled as she gazed at Poppy’s firm young B-cup breasts. “Nice,” she said. “Your turn Poppy.”

Poppy turned to Rosie. “Rosie,” she said, “truth or dare.”

“Er, truth,” said Rosie.

Poppy now had to think for a moment. Then she said, “When did you realise you were a lesbian?”

“Well I’m bi, really,” said Rosie, blushing, “but, um, let’s see – it was probably when I was ten years old. I was at the swimming pool and there was a girl there – I guess she was a couple of years older than me – and her breasts were pretty well-developed for her age. I guess I was staring at them in fascination, because she suddenly said to me something like, ‘What are you staring at? Are you a lesbian?’ Well I apologised and said ‘No’ … but I went home and I thought about it – I knew that lesbians liked girls instead of boys, but I only had a hazy idea of the mechanics of it. Anyway I came to the conclusion that yes, I preferred girls’ bodies to boys’. I’d seen naked boys – and naked men – on the web by that time, thanks to a friend of mine who liked to visit such sites, but I didn’t like their bodies nearly so much. So, well, I guess that’s when I knew. I mean, now of course I like men’s bodies just fine, but I never got over that fascination with women’s bodies – and breasts in particular.” This last part was delivered in a rush, and in a quieter voice, and Rosie blushed and stared at the floor.

“Cool!” said Chloe. “Your turn now Rosie.”

“Oh. Um…” Rosie looked around. “Emma – truth or dare?”

“Dare,” said Emma with a smile.

“Okay – um … I dare you to … to … kiss me. No – kiss Poppy,” she said, covered with embarrassment.

“It’s the first one that counts,” said Chloe. “Go on Emma.”

Emma smiled and lifted Rosie’s chin with one hand. The two girls stared into each other’s eyes for a moment, then Emma leaned in and planted her lips against Rosie’s. Rosie closed her eyes, parted her lips, and then the two of them were probing each other’s mouths with their tongues. Chloe laughed and clapped. Poppy smiled, but looked a little jealous.

Emma broke off. “Thanks Rosie,” she said, patting Rosie’s hand. She turned to Chloe. “Chloe – truth or dare?”

“Truth,” said Chloe.

“All right – has it crossed your mind at all to cheat on Harriet with one of us?” asked Emma slyly.

Chloe’s eyes narrowed. “That’s naughty,” she said. “But I’ll answer. Yes, it has. But just because it’s crossed my mind doesn’t mean it’s going to happen. Remember that.”

“Which one of us?” asked Poppy.

“I’ve answered the question, Poppy – that’s all you’re going to get from me right now. Rosie – truth or dare?”

“Hey, isn’t it my turn?” asked Poppy.

“It’s my turn to ask,” said Chloe, “and I can choose to ask whoever I want.”

“Truth,” said Rosie.

“Hmm,” said Chloe. “What’s the kinkiest thing you’ve ever done?”

Rosie blushed. “Maybe I’ll take a dare.”

“Wow, it must be bad,” said Chloe, laughing. “Okay then – I dare you to strip completely naked, and stay naked for the next hour.”

“Hey, Poppy only had to take off her top!” objected Rosie, pouting.

“Poppy hadn’t just refused a truth,” said Chloe.

Blushing deeply, Rosie slowly took off her blouse and bra, revealing her perfect C-cup milky-white breasts. As Emma smiled at her in encouragement, she took off her skirt and panties together. Then she said, “What if your parents come in?”

Emma shrugged. “They might,” she said, “but they’re cool – they won’t mind.”

“But I’ll mind!” said Rosie.

“Such is the nature of Truth or Dare,” said Chloe. “Don’t worry babe, I’m sure you won’t be the only naked girl in here before long.”

Rosie put one hand over her pussy and the other over her left breast, covering her right breast with her forearm. “Poppy,” she said, “truth or dare?”

“Dare!” said Poppy.

“I dare you to take off the rest of your clothes,” said Rosie.

Poppy slipped out of her skirt and panties. “There,” she said. “Chloe – truth or dare?”

“Truth,” said Chloe.

“Are you ever going to take a dare?” asked Poppy in some exasperation.

“Probably not from you,” said Chloe with a smile. “I dread to think what you’d have me doing, you naughty girl.”

Poppy laughed. “Oh well,” she said. “If you weren’t with Harriet, which of us would you want to sleep with?”

“Poppy!” said Emma reproachfully.

“What?” demanded Poppy. “This is Truth or Dare, right?”

“Rosie,” said Chloe. Then, as Poppy’s face fell, she added, “It would be you, Pops, since I think you’re cute as a button – but you need to mature a little first.”

This did little to mollify Poppy, who spent the next five minutes pretending not to sulk.

“Emma,” said Chloe. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” said Emma.

“What turns you on the most?” asked Chloe.

“Shitting in my panties,” said Emma, “and then squishing it around so I can feel it against my, um, my pussy.”

Chloe shuddered. “I’m sorry I asked,” she said.

“Poppy,” said Emma, “truth or dare?”

“Dare,” said Poppy, pouting slightly.

“I dare you to come and suck on one of Rosie’s nipples,” said Emma with a grin.

Poppy actually smiled. “Okay!” she said. She came over to where Rosie was sitting, bent over, and placed her open mouth over Rosie’s left nipple.

“Um,” said Rosie, more than a little unsure about this, but as Poppy suckled on and twirled her tongue around Rosie’s nipple, she smiled a little and closed her eyes. “This isn’t too bad,” she said.

Poppy broke off, leaving Rosie’s left nipple moist and prominent. “That was nice!” she said, making Rosie blush.

“Rosie,” said Poppy, “truth or dare.”

“Oh … dare,” said Rosie.

“Okay – I dare you to let Emma stick her tongue in your cunt.”

“Poppy!” exclaimed Emma, shocked.

“What?” asked Poppy, aggrieved. “You know you want to!”

“It’s okay,” said Rosie. “I don’t mind. I mean – you don’t have to if you don’t want to, but…”

“Good girl,” said Chloe, smiling.

Emma shrugged. “Well, if nobody minds… Why don’t you lie back on the couch, Rosie?”

Rosie did so, then she shyly spread her legs so that Emma could put her head in between her thighs. Emma positioned herself appropriately, then she bent down and started to gently lick Rosie’s labia, lightly brushing the redhead’s clitoris and then running her tongue downwards until she reached Rosie’s vagina. Extending her tongue as far as she could, she pushed it inside Rosie’s cunt. The girl tasted nice – somehow sweeter than Poppy – and she continued licking and probing for a good five minutes. When she pulled away, however, Rosie breathlessly said, “Oh, don’t stop!”, so Emma smiled and moved up to suck directly on Rosie’s clit. Within another minute, Rosie was bucking and moaning in her orgasm.

Emma smiled, then she moved up to lie full length on top of Rosie. They kissed hungrily, and Rosie put her hands up Emma’s top to fondle her breasts. Poppy came over to stand over them, torn between voyeuristic enjoyment and jealousy. She reached down to grasp Emma’s top. “Here,” she said, “you might as well take this off.”

Emma pulled away from Rosie just long enough for Poppy to remove her top, then she resumed French-kissing Rosie. Poppy meanwhile unzipped Emma’s little skirt and pulled it off, leaving Emma in just her panties. At that moment Emma gasped, and suddenly the back of her panties expanded upwards as a long soft rope of shit slid swiftly out of her rectum and built up into a grapefruit-sized mound, which then oozed downwards, pouring down her gusset and stroking her clitoris as it filled the front of her panties. She shuddered in orgasm.

“Oh, nasty!” said Chloe, wrinkling her nose.

“You just wait,” said Poppy with a grin. Then she turned a petulant eye on Emma. “Hey Emma, you’re marrying me, remember?”

This had the desired effect, as Rosie broke off from kissing Emma and stared in startlement at Poppy. Emma glanced back in annoyance. Chloe was as taken aback as Rosie. “You too are getting married?”

“We’re hoping to,” said Emma. “Poppy’s done some research and she thinks it’ll be legal.”

“Well … congratulations, I guess,” said Chloe. “What do your parents think about it?”

“We haven’t told them yet,” said Poppy.

Chloe chuckled. “Yeah, well good luck when you do. I think they might just object to the idea.”

“They can’t stop us,” said Poppy defiantly. “We’re both of legal age.”

Chloe held up her hands. “Okay, okay,” she said. “I didn’t mean to pour cold water on it. I’m happy for you – really.”

Emma climbed off Rosie and smiled. “Thanks,” she said. “You know, maybe we should rehearse – we do after all have a recording session booked for this weekend. It would be a shame if we sucked.”

“True,” agreed Chloe. “Fine, we’ll rehearse – but perhaps you could change your panties first?”

Emma chuckled. “Fine, I…”

“Oh no!” exclaimed Rosie. The others looked down in time to see a lumpy mass of poo piling up between Rosie’s spread legs. Her cheeks were bright red. “I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed. “Your couch…”

“Don’t worry about it,” said Emma. “You think we’re not doing stuff like that all the time here?”

“Oookaaay, I’m out of here,” said Chloe. “Have fun cleaning up, girls.”

“You’re leaving?” asked Emma.

“Yup – too much shit around here for me,” said Chloe.

Emma was sorry to see her go, but also secretly glad. After she had seen Chloe to the front door (still wearing her shit-filled panties), she returned to the living room and grinned. “Who wants to come upstairs and get messy?” she asked.

“Me!” said Poppy.

“Um … how messy?” asked Rosie. “I’m still getting used to having shit in my panties – I’m not sure how much messier than that I want to get…”

“Okay,” said Emma, “then we’ll use my bedroom. You can leave your clothes here.”

Poppy excitedly pulled Rosie off the couch, and the two naked girls hurried upstairs past a very surprised Grant. Emma followed more slowly, being careful of her bulging panties. When she reached her bedroom, she shut the door behind her. “Poppy,” she said, “Rosie’s arse is messy. Perhaps you would like to clean it for her?”

Poppy licked her lips. “Yes please!” she said. She guided Rosie on to all fours on Emma’s bed, and then she started licking Rosie’s shit-smeared buttocks and anus.

“Eww!” said Rosie. “Doesn’t that taste nasty?”

“Poppy likes it,” said Emma. “Don’t you Poppy?”

“Mm-hmm,” replied Poppy, her face buried between Rosie’s buttocks. Rosie closed her eyes and smiled slightly at the fourteen-year-old’s attentions.

Emma smiled. Then she left the room and fetched Lara’s dildo from Poppy’s room. It was still attached to the largest sac, and so she spent a few minutes filling the sac with fresh shit from her panties. Then she returned to her own room, where Poppy and Rosie were now sixty-nining each other. “Move your head, Poppy,” she said.

Poppy did so, and Emma placed the tip of the dildo at Rosie’s very moist opening. Pushing it forward slowly, Emma slid it easily into Rosie’s cunt. “I’m guessing you’re not a virgin?” she said.

Rosie removed her mouth from Poppy’s pussy long enough to say “No – I had a boyfriend for a year or so. He moved to London two months ago and we haven’t spoken since.”

“Don’t make her talk!” said Poppy. Then she sighed happily as Rosie started sucking her clitoris again.

Emma gave a firm squeeze on the shit-filled sac, and Rosie uttered a muffled moan of pleasure. Continuing to squish the sac as hard as she could, Emma slowly withdrew the dildo as Rosie’s cunt filled up with her shit. As the sac emptied, Emma popped the dildo free, tossing it on to the floor. A thick slug of shit started oozing out of Rosie’s vaginal opening.

“Oh God!” said Rosie. “What have you done to me? I feel so full!”

“Is it nice?” asked Poppy. She pressed her tongue against the oozing shit and attempted to push it back inside Rosie.

“Yes, but – oh my God, is it shit?”

“It is,” said Emma.

“Oh that’s so disgusting,” muttered Rosie, but she made no further objection, only a series of excited moans as Poppy suckled on her clitoris.

Their three-way lovemaking lasted for almost an hour, at the end of which Lara knocked on the door and announced that Rosie’s mother was downstairs.

Rosie sat up in shock. “Oh no!” she said, thinking of her pile of shit on the couch. Then she added, “Oh no!” as she remembered that her clothes were still in the living room. Even assuming her mother had not seen them already, how was she going to get them without her mother seeing her naked?

The problem was not lost on Emma. “I’ll go and see if I can get your clothes,” she said. She shuffled out from beneath Poppy, and put on a short dress and some shoes. Trotting downstairs, she discovered with relief that Grant was keeping Rosie’s mother talking in the hall.

“Hello Mrs Butler,” she said. “Rosie will be right down – she’s just figuring out some dance moves upstairs with Poppy.”

“Hello dear,” said Mrs Butler. “Nice to meet you.”

Emma retrieved Rosie’s clothes, took them into the kitchen, and shoved them into a polythene shopping bag. Then she hurried upstairs, smiling at Rosie’s mother as she went. Back in her room, she emptied out the bag, and Rosie gratefully got dressed.

“You might want to fix your hair,” said Emma. “And you’ve still got some of Poppy’s shit on your cheek.”

Half an hour earlier, Rosie had narrowly avoided getting a mouthful of shit when Poppy’s bowels suddenly evacuated all over her face. “Thanks,” she said, going to the mirror.

At the top of the stairs, just out of sight of Grant and Mrs Butler, Rosie turned to Emma. “I had fun tonight,” she said with a smile.

“So did we,” said Emma. She leaned forward and kissed Rosie, who responded with enthusiasm. Their kiss turned into a clinch, and Emma reached down, lifted Rosie’s skirt, and stroked her clitoris through her panties. Rosie moaned with pleasure.

“My turn,” said Poppy, as she gently eased the two of them apart. She kissed Rosie on the lips, and slipped her hand inside Rosie’s panties as they wrestled tongues.

“Stop, or you’ll make me cum again!” said Rosie breathlessly.

Emma smiled and put her arm around Poppy’s waist. “Hey Rosie, would you like to be a bridesmaid at our wedding?”

“Ooh yes!” said Poppy. “That’s a great idea.”

“I’d love to,” said Rosie. “Assuming Mum and Dad let me come.” She looked troubled for a moment, but then she said, “You know what? I don’t care what they say. By hook or by crook, I’ll be there.”

Poppy grinned. “Cool!” she said.

“I should warn you,” said Emma, “that the bridesmaids’ dresses are likely to be quite skimpy.”

“Very skimpy,” added Poppy, giggling.

“That’s okay,” said Rosie, smiling shyly. “It’s your wedding – I’ll wear whatever you put me in. Oh but that reminds me – have you seen Carrie West’s new video?”

“No,” said Emma. “Is it good?”

“Just watch it,” said Rosie, smiling. “I think you’ll like it.” With that she trotted downstairs, and Emma and Poppy heard her say, “Hi Mum!”

“Well,” said Emma, “did you have fun?”

“Mostly,” said Poppy. “When you weren’t ignoring me for Rosie.”

“I wasn’t ignoring you!” said Emma, exasperated. “If we’re to have fun with other girls, you’re going to have to let go of your jealousy.”

Poppy pouted. “Just because you’re having sex with another girl doesn’t mean you can forget about your fiancée.”

Emma sighed. “Poppy, if I’m French-kissing another girl, or licking her pussy … just how do you expect me to include you in that?”

Her sister shrugged. “I don’t know.” She pursed her lips. “I guess it takes some getting used to – seeing you have sex with someone else.”

Emma nodded. “I know what you mean. But you did get your fair share of Rosie – be honest.”

“I suppose so,” said Poppy. “Oh well – shall we check out this video Rosie was talking about?”

A minute later they had found it on the web. One of their favourite pop stars, Carrie West was known for breaking new ground in her videos, but in a year when nearly all the female singers were getting naked or semi-naked, the thing that set her apart was the context of her own nudity. Many singers stripped as they danced in the rain or on stage, but Carrie was more original than that.

In this new video, Wicked Wedding, she was singing about the two men who wanted to marry her. As she marched down the aisle in a beautiful crotch-length wedding dress, her white panties peeping beneath her hem with each step, one of her suitors appeared to be the groom at the front of the church. The other was a guest, his dark eyes flashing with jealousy. As the song progressed, and the happy couple began to exchange vows, the angry guest leaped into the aisle and ran to the front of the church. He fell on his knees before Carrie and, in a little verse of his own, expressed eloquently why he should be the one to marry her.

As Carrie looked unsure of herself, and sang about how she loved both men, the groom attacked the guest, punching him to the floor. Carrie immediately dropped to the side of the fallen man – clearly her feelings were shifting in his direction. She helped him up, giving the camera a long look at her panties, and then she started walking back down the aisle with him. This infuriated the groom, who ran after them, grabbed Carrie, and started dragging her back to the front of the church.

The guest lunged for Carrie, got hold of the back of her dress, and pulled. In slow-motion the dress ripped apart and came clean off, ending up in the guest’s hands. Carrie was left wearing just a thong, a blue garter around her thigh, and her shoes. She had naturally large, full breasts, on which the camera lovingly lingered.

“Ha – I can see why Rosie likes this video,” said Poppy with a smirk.

Carrie, making no attempt to cover her breasts, implored the groom to let her go, which he eventually did. As he stood there heartbroken, Carrie retreated down the aisle with the guest. Then she stopped, took off her thong, and threw it to the groom, who caught it and pressed it to his cheek.

“Nice!” said Emma, impressed – Carrie’s pussy was clean-shaven.

Naked and apparently unconcerned by this, Carrie ran laughing out of the church, hand in hand with the guest, and on the street outside they stopped to kiss. Then she turned around in his arms, and turning her head up and back, she continued to kiss him while he fondled her left breast with one hand and reached for her pussy with the other. As he rubbed her clitoris with his forefinger, her singing lapsed into moans, which continued as both the sound and the picture faded.

“Wow – awesome video!” said Poppy, and Emma nodded.

Lara opened the door and entered. “Hi,” she said. “How was your rehearsal? Did you do any actual rehearsing?”

Emma grinned. “Not much,” she said. “Take off your dress and come and sit with us.”

Lara pulled her dress up over her head. “Do you realise that’s my longest dress now? I spent most of the last two days shortening everything I have.”

“Good for you!” said Emma. “That one still covers your panties, though – you’ll have to do something about that.”

“Okay,” said Lara, sighing as she pondered the disappearance of her last option for remaining decent in public. She sat down between Emma and Poppy, wearing just a pair of shit-filled panties.

“Want to see a movie we made?” asked Emma.

“Oh! Sure,” said Lara, surprised. “What kind of movie?”

“We call it ‘Emma and Poppy’s Toilet Adventure’,” said Emma.

“Ah,” said Lara. “I see. All right then.”

Emma switched on her projector and pointed it towards the far wall. She started the movie and then bent down to suckle on her mother’s large breast.

“Oh my!” said Lara as she watched Poppy sit down on the huge pile of shit, and sink down into the bowl. “Where the heck was this?”

“The public toilet in town,” said Emma. “Keep watching.” She reached into Lara’s panties and started rubbing her pussy. Her fingers sank into Lara’s shit, which she scooped up and squished against Lara’s clitoris.

“Oh – that’s disgusting,” gasped Lara, as she watched Emma lowering herself into the other toilet.

“Oh no – oh my God!” she exclaimed in anguish, as she watched the bikers defecate and pee all over her daughters. “Oh … oh!”

“Poppy, take over,” said Emma, gesturing to their mother’s pussy.

Poppy got down on her hands and knees and put her face between Lara’s legs. Pulling her mother’s panties to one side, she started licking and sucking on Lara’s clitoris.

“Oh God – oh yes that’s so good,” moaned Lara. “Oh dear, what are they doing to you? Oh no!!” She put her hands to her cheeks, horrified to see Emma bent over and brutally raped. “Oh my gosh, I need to call the police!”

She tried to get up, but Emma held her down. “It’s okay Mum,” she said. She started to knead Lara’s breasts with her hands. “Just enjoy what Poppy is doing to you.”

“Oh I am, I am,” moaned Lara. “Oh dear, my poor girls – they’re raping you! Ohhh…”

As the rape continued, Poppy brought Lara closer and closer to orgasm, but never quite let her get there. Soon Lara was almost screaming with frustration. “Oh please Poppy, make me cum! Please make your mummy cum, my love!”

“Look Mum,” said Emma. “Look at me crying my eyes out while my anus is being raped. How does that make you feel?”

“Ohhh … ohhh … it’s awful…” gasped Lara. “Ohhhh!”

“But you’re turned on, right?” pressed Emma. “Isn’t it making you horny?”

Lara spread her legs wider and gyrated her pussy against Poppy’s face. “Ohhh…” she moaned, still watching the screen. “Oh, my precious babies … gang-raped… Oh my God that guy’s got a big penis…”

“He’s about to stick it in Poppy’s arsehole,” said Emma, pinching Lara’s nipples. “Does that excite you?”

“Ohhh … ohhh, yes…” breathed Lara. “Oh yes, Big Penis Guy, shove that cock up my daughter’s arse!” Then she screamed with delight as Poppy simultaneously brought her to orgasm, and screamed in pain in the movie as the huge biker cock slid up her rectum. “Yes! Yes!” cried Lara in ecstasy. “Rape my daughter! Rape my Poppy! Fuck her arse! Make her scream!”

Then the scene switched to Emma, who was being simultaneously vaginally and anally raped by two huge bikers. “Look Mum!” whispered Emma in Lara’s ear. “Look what they’re doing to me! What would you like to say to them?”

“Fuck her!” shouted Lara, still writhing in orgasmic bliss as Poppy continued sucking on her clitoris. “Rape my Emma! Do it, you big brutes! Pound your big cocks into her precious little body! Rape her! Rape my daughter! Rape both my daughters! Ahhhhhh!!!!”

Poppy stopped sucking on Lara’s clitoris, and looked up, rather shocked, at Emma, who grinned and winked at her. Slightly reassured, Poppy went back to her sucking, and for the rest of the movie she alternated between keeping Lara on the verge of orgasm, and pushing her over the edge at opportune moments.

Afterwards, Lara got to her feet, swaying on the spot as if drunk. “Oh God that was intense,” she said. “Oh babes, I’m sorry I said all those horrible things. I don’t know what came over me.”

“It was turning you on, though, wasn’t it – watching us getting raped?” asked Emma.

Lara blushed. “I guess it was,” she said. “Of course, it helped that I knew you were safe now. If I saw it really happening, it would be very different.”

Emma smiled. “Yes – you’d probably offer yourself up for rape too.”

“No!” said Lara. “I’d stop them … I’d ask them to stop.” She paused, frowning. “I think.”

“It’s all right, Mum,” Emma reassured her. “We enjoyed it, really. Or at least, we enjoyed some of it. And the rest we enjoyed later, when we thought back on it.”

Lara sighed. “I’m going to Hell,” she moaned, half to herself, shaking her head as she left the room.

“Emma!” exclaimed Poppy. “What did we just do to her?”

Emma grinned. “We kind of messed with her head a bit. I got the idea from The Clockwork Orange – you know, that movie with Dean Sawyer.”

“I didn’t see it,” said Poppy. “Wasn’t it a really bad remake of an old 2D movie?”

“It may have been a remake,” said Emma, shrugging. “I thought it was pretty cool though. Anyway in the movie this violent criminal is put through this treatment in which he watches various rapes and tortures on a screen while being given a drug which makes him feel gross. So afterwards, he always associates violence with feeling gross. And thus he can be released back into society.”

“But … we just did the opposite?” said Poppy.

“Right,” said Emma, smiling. “We just gave Mum the time of her life while she watched us being raped. Now she’ll always be turned on by rape. At least that’s the theory – I’m sure it probably won’t work.”

Poppy shivered. “What if it does?”

Emma shrugged. “Maybe she’ll get raped, and enjoy it. Who knows?”

“Emma, that’s kind of sick,” said Poppy. Then she smiled. “Nice job!” They both laughed.

******************

Wandering into her bedroom in just her messy panties, Lara stopped at the sight of Grant tying ropes to the four posts at the corners of the bed. “What are you doing?” she asked.

“You’ll see,” he said grimly. He finished tying one of the knots, then stopped. “What the hell was that all about?” he demanded. “Rape my daughters?”

Lara blushed. “We were kind of role-playing,” she said. “It was harmless – really.”

“I don’t like it,” said Grant, shaking his head. “Not at all. I’ll go and talk to them in a minute. But first, I want you to take off those disgusting panties, clean your bottom, and lie down on this bed.” He had pulled the covers all the way back.

“All right,” said Lara. “Give me a minute.”

She went to the bathroom, cleaned herself up, brushed her teeth, and removed her make-up. When she returned to the bedroom, she meekly climbed on to the bed and lay down, naked, with her arms and legs spread. “Is this how you want me?” she asked.

Grant nodded. “Good,” he said. He picked up a jar of liquid honey from the floor and squirted it all over Lara’s body, from her feet all the way up to her neck. She squealed at the cold touch. “Rub that in all over,” Grant ordered her.

Obediently Lara rubbed the honey into every part of her skin. “My face too?” she asked.

“No,” said Grant. “Just up to your neck.” He waited patiently, then he opened a bag of flour and shook it carefully over each leg, then on her pussy, up her belly, on her breasts and upper chest, then along each arm. Satisfied, he put the flour down, then he took a metal object from a drawer in his bedside table.

“Ugh,” said Lara. “Did Neil give you that?” She had been to the gynaecologist enough times to recognise a speculum when she saw one.

Grant nodded. He put one knee on the bed and then leaned down close to Lara’s pussy. He regarded her neatly-trimmed pubic hair for a moment, then said, “From now on, shave.”

“Um, okay,” said Lara, and then she gasped as the cold steel penetrated her hot, wet cunt.

Grant turned the screw a few times, cranking the speculum apart until he could see deep into Lara’s body. Then he stood up and, one after the other, tied Lara’s wrists and ankles to the four corners of the bed. “Try to escape,” he said.

Lara struggled hard, but the ropes bit into her flesh. “Ow,” she said. “The ropes are hurting me.”

“They’re not so tight that they’re going to cut off your circulation,” said Grant, “and I’ve tied them in such a way that they won’t get any tighter if you struggle. That said, it’s going to be more comfortable for you if you don’t struggle, so you might as well not bother trying to escape.”

“I won’t,” promised Lara.

“You might, after a few hours,” said Grant. “Just remember that it’s pointless.”

He pulled the top sheet up from the foot of the bed, and laid it carefully over her. He tucked it in securely at either side, then he took a needle and thread and sewed the upper end to the bottom sheet, leaving absolutely no room either side of her neck. Lara was now at the centre of a wide, flat space between the top and bottom sheets, and she figured she knew what Grant had in mind.

“Are you going to put something in here with me?” she asked nervously.

Grant smiled, and picked up the cardboard box that Poppy had brought home. Lara could hear rustling from within. Grant untucked one side of the upper sheet and pulled it back until it exposed Lara’s left leg. As quickly as possible, he opened the box and up-ended it over Lara’s leg. There were more than two hundred cockroaches in the box, and they all spilled out over Lara’s leg, some of them falling between her legs, others falling on to the sheet outside of her leg. She squealed in horror. Grant quickly pulled the sheet back to the edge of the bed and tucked it in. The roaches moved like lightning, but he only lost a couple – the rest were now trapped in the bed with Lara. There was no way for them to get out – they would just have to spend the night with her. At least they would have plenty of food.

“Eww, I can feel them crawling all over me!” squealed Lara in disgust. “Oh no – oh no!! They’re going inside me!”

Grant grinned and massaged his crotch. “That’s the idea,” he said. He pulled the duvet up to cover her, then he leaned forward and kissed her on the lips. “Goodnight, darling.” He left the room, switching the light off and closing the door behind him, leaving her in the pitch dark. He listened for a while, chuckling as he heard her whimper, then squeal, then whimper again. He stuck his hand into his trousers, and smiled gleefully as he heard her cry out, “Grant! Grant! Help! Please – they’re crawling inside me – I can’t take this! Grant!” As she continued to shriek and cry, he closed his eyes and masturbated while he listened. Then she screamed, and he groaned as he came into his boxer shorts. Panting heavily, he headed downstairs – he would be spending tonight on the couch.

Or so he thought. But a minute later he found himself staring at the big pile of Rosie’s shit, which was still sitting in the middle of one of the cushions. Sighing heavily, he climbed the stairs again and got into bed in the spare bedroom.

******************

“Come to bed, Emma,” urged Poppy.

“Just a minute,” said Emma. She was typing up a new entry into her blog. With a shiver, she found herself typing: ‘Check out Poppy and me being raped in a public toilet!’, and inserting a link to the movie they had created. As she hit the Save button, she wondered whether anyone at school would see it…

******************

Lara’s nerves were completely fried by the following morning, when Grant came to release her. She gibbered and sobbed uncontrollably as he slowly and deliberately unpicked the stitches he had sewn the night before. Then he pulled the sheet back, and shivered with delight as he saw the roaches covering her body, eating the food with which he had coated her. Then he chuckled as he saw one large cockroach crawl out of her gaping cunt, and grinned happily as another ran inside her.

“How are you this morning?” he asked.

“Oh G…G…Grant!” sobbed Lara. “P…please get them off me! Please! I’ll do anything!”

“Promise you’ll never leave me, no matter how many times I do stuff like this to you,” he said.

“I p…p…promise!” cried Lara.

“Jeez Dad!” exclaimed Emma, staring at Lara from the doorway. “What the fuck?”

“Go to your room!” barked Grant.

Emma retreated hastily, and hurried to tell Poppy what she had seen.

“Poor Mum!” said Poppy, alarmed. “What are we going to do?”

“I don’t know,” said Emma. “We should definitely talk to her though, after Dad leaves.”

Poppy nodded, and together they waited until they heard the sound of his car leaving for work. Then they rushed through to Lara’s bedroom, only to find she was not there.

Trotting downstairs, they found her in the kitchen, cracking eggs into a frying pan. “Good morning, darlings,” she said to them with a smile. “Scrambled eggs?” She was wearing an apron and a pair of panties – clean ones, for once. The apron had long shoulder straps and a low neckline, so her breasts were most inadequately covered – her nipples kept popping one side or other of the straps every time she turned.

“Um, no thanks,” said Emma. “Just Brantasia for us. But … Mum … are you okay?”

“I’m just fine, thank you,” said Lara.

“But … you were screaming…” said Poppy.

“And crying,” added Emma. “You were really flipping out over those cockroaches.”

Lara smiled at them fondly. “Oh darlings, it’s sweet of you to worry about me, but I was fine, really. Your dad has quite a cruel streak, it seems, and it excited him to think that I was terrified and hating every minute of it. So, I gave him what he wanted.”

“So … you didn’t mind all those roaches climbing over you?” asked Poppy in surprise.

“Not at all,” said Lara. “They did kind of tickle, but actually it was quite fun. For a while, at least – my arms were killing me by this morning though. Your dad tied them in a very uncomfortable position.”

Emma laughed in relief. “Thank goodness!” she said. “I was worried Dad was going to drive you insane.”

“Heavens, no,” said Lara, laughing too. Then she paused, squatted slightly, and reached into her panties. When she pulled her hand out, she was holding a struggling cockroach between her finger and thumb. “I think I still have a few of these inside me,” she said. “I can feel them moving around.” She tossed it on to the floor.

“Mum!” said Poppy, appalled. “Don’t let it loose – the house will become infested!”

“Crumbs, it’s a bit late to worry about that,” said Lara. “Most of the rest of them have scurried away to who knows what dark corners of the house. Your dad didn’t seem too interested in keeping them confined this morning. I think he wants the house to become infested.”

“Ugh,” said Poppy with a shudder. “That won’t be much fun – I hate bugs.”

“So what are you wearing to school today?” asked Lara, changing the subject. “It’s your last day, isn’t it?”

Emma nodded. “Just panties,” she said. “Until I crap in them, then I’ll have to wear nothing for the rest of the day.”

“I’m not going to bother wearing anything at all,” said Poppy. “There doesn’t seem much point.”

“Whatever happened to the labels the government was requiring you to wear?” asked Lara.

Emma shrugged. “They went out with tops,” she said.

“Hmm,” said Lara. “Well perhaps instead we could write something on your chests in felt-tip.”

“Cool!” said Poppy. “I hadn’t thought of that – that’s a great idea.”

Emma grinned and fetched a black marker pen from the bureau in the hall. “What shall I write on your chest, Poppy?” she asked.

Poppy thought for a moment. Then she smiled and said, “How about: ‘I WAS GANG-RAPED – AND LOVED IT’.”

“Oh dear,” Lara fretted. “That’s pretty extreme isn’t it?”

But Emma was already writing. “…And … loved … it,” she said. “There!”

“Now it’s your turn,” said Poppy, taking the marker pen. “What shall I write?”

“Hmm,” said Emma. “What about: ‘MY CUNT IS FULL OF DOG-SHIT’?”

“Gross!” exclaimed Poppy, screwing up her face. “I love it!”

“It’s hardly going to make the boys want to have sex with you, though,” said Lara. “I thought that was the idea. Besides, it isn’t true.”

“Not yet … but perhaps I could take Ben and Solomon out before we go to school,” said Emma. “That would save you a chore, and I’ll soon have some nice dog shit to stuff inside me.”

“Oh dear – that really doesn’t sound healthy…” said Lara, but she knew she had very little say in the matter.

******************

Both Ben and Solomon habitually produced satisfyingly large stools, but they were typically rather soft, so Emma cleaned out the large sac she had been using with her mother’s dildo, and took it with her when she and Poppy walked the dogs. Walking, however, seemed far from either dog’s mind, as they sniffed eagerly at both girls’ panties.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Poppy asked Emma, smiling naughtily.

“About whether crocodiles have two-chambered or four-chambered hearts?” said Emma.

“What?” said Poppy, startled.

Emma laughed. “That’s what I was thinking about,” she said. “Sorry – I was miles away. What were you thinking about?”

“That we should have sex with these dogs,” said Poppy.

“Oh!” said Emma, looking down at Ben, who was nosing her pussy through her panties. “Well they certainly seem keen. Shall we give it a try?”

“Yes please!” said Poppy. She pulled down her panties and hopped out of them, then she got down on to all fours and stuck her bottom in the air. Solomon immediately started licking her anus, which made her giggle. “That’s not what I want, Solomon!” she said.

Emma pulled down her own panties and got into a similar position next to Poppy. “Do we just wait and hope for the best?” she asked.

“Don’t ask me,” said Poppy. “I haven’t done this before. They do tend to hump anything that moves, given time … oh, here we go.” Solomon had mounted her and was thrusting ineffectually up towards her pussy.

“You need to be lower,” said Emma. “Spread your knees wider and lower your bottom.”

Poppy did so, and then reached back to grasp Solomon’s red penis. Guiding it towards her vagina, she gasped as he managed to thrust it a couple of inches inside her. Encouraged, he began hammering away in the same spot, and soon he was buried to the hilt and fucking Poppy as if his life depended on it. She, for her part, was uttering short little moans and rubbing furiously at her clitoris.

Ben had by now got the same idea, and with a little help from Emma’s hand he managed to bury himself inside her cunt. This was very different from Monday’s rapes – partly because neither the bikers nor Steven had dug claws into her back.

“Ow … ow!” she said. “Damnit, Ben!” Then, “Woah – ow!” she added as she felt something like a hard ball trying to push its way inside her. It popped in, finally, and she felt a rush of fluid within her body. “Whew!” she said. “All right Ben – get off.”

But Ben was stuck. He attempted to dismount, but he was now tied to her by the size of his knot, which was buried in her cunt. Emma cursed. “Damnit, Poppy, I forgot about their knots – don’t let Solomon get his inside you!”

“Too late!” muttered Poppy, and then she shuddered in orgasm. “Oh yes … thank you Solomon!”

Ben had actually dismounted and was trying to walk away from Emma, despite the fact that his penis was still inside her. “Ben, stop!” she pleaded as she was dragged after him, and then, “Ouch!” she yelped, as his knot popped free. She clutched her pussy, biting her lip from the pain. Fortunately she had the presence of mind to grab his leash before he wandered too far.

Poppy seemed to have less trouble with Solomon, and the two disengaged with only a small yelp from Poppy. Picking themselves up, and walking slightly bow-legged, the two girls continued with their walk, until Ben stopped and squatted.

“Aha!” said Poppy.

As usual it was a large, soft turd, and it smelled awful. Emma recoiled as she picked it up. “Eww this is nasty,” she said.

“Let me see,” said Poppy, and she leaned in close for a fascinated look. “And you’re seriously going to put this in your cunt? Oh … oh look … gross! There are little wormy things in it!”

“Really?” said Emma, and she took a closer look herself. Sure enough there were lots of tiny white worms wriggling about in the poo.

“Are you still going to put that inside you?” asked Poppy.

Emma shivered. She had done a lot of disgusting things over the last few days, but this would cap them all. “Yup,” she said. “Worms and all.” She looked down at the Great Dane. “We should get Ben to a vet pretty soon though. Poor boy – I didn’t know you had worms.” She sighed, then started pushing the turd into the plastic sac. It was a tricky job since it was so soft, but she managed. Then she looked down at the Mastiff. “How about you, Solomon – need to take a dump?”

But Solomon waited until ten minutes later before emptying his own bowels. His turds were free of worms, but they were larger and firmer than Ben’s, and Emma had less trouble posting it into the sac. Then she screwed the cap tightly on to the sac, pulled her panties aside, and pushed the dildo deep into her vagina. She handed the sac to Poppy. “Want to do the honours?”

Poppy squeezed, and Emma shivered with a mixture of revulsion and excitement as her cunt filled with soft, warm, worm-ridden dog-shit. When Poppy had emptied the sac she pulled out the dildo and replaced her panties. “Awesome,” she said with a smile.

Poppy grinned. “Time to go and write on your chest,” she said.

******************

The writing on their chests brought them plenty of attention at school that day, and Poppy found herself groped more frequently than on any previous day. Halfway through the morning, Emma crapped in her panties, and after cleaning up was obliged to remain naked for the rest of the day. Many other girls found themselves in this situation, but it was worse for Emma, because the dog-shit in her cunt, coupled with her constant arousal at feeling it inside her, resulted in a steady trickle of brown juice from her cunt, which kept running down the insides of her thighs and smelled strongly of dog-shit. This earned her a lot of taunts and jeers, but it had the positive effect of keeping Steven at bay – he took one look at her chest, sniffed the air, and hurried on his way with a shake of his head.

Prize-giving did, indeed, include some swimming awards, but Poppy had not won either of her events and only picked up a bronze medal for the fifty-metres breast-stroke. After prize-giving was the end-of-year concert, in which various musically gifted pupils played short pieces to show off their talent. Emma in previous years had played the violin at these concerts, but although she was good at it she had never enjoyed it, and had been relieved when her parents allowed her to give it up so she could concentrate on her academic subjects.

The concert was only halfway through when something started happening behind the orchestra. This room was also used for showing films to the pupils, on a large wall-screen at the front of the room. As a sixth-form string quartet began to play a Vivaldi piece, the wall-screen flickered into life, and a collective gasp arose from the assembled pupils and parents.

A larger-than-life Poppy, covered in shit, was being lifted out of a filthy toilet bowl by a couple of hefty bikers. Although her face bore brown streaks, she was still perfectly recognisable. As her rape commenced, the headmaster, his face livid with fury, got to his feet and ran from the room. A minute later, the wall-screen went black.

The string quartet had fallen silent and was standing around uncertainly. The hall was filled with murmurs, and everyone around Poppy was plying her with questions.

“What the hell was that?”

“Did they all rape you? How many of them were there?”

“How did you get into that mess in the first place?”

“I bet you enjoyed it, didn’t you, you filthy slut…”

Poppy just buried her face in her hands. She was feeling utterly humiliated … yet also incredibly turned-on. As attention around her was diverted by the return of the headmaster, she seized the opportunity to masturbate.

“I don’t know who hijacked the wall-screen,” he boomed in fury, “but I shall find out! And when I do, there will be hell to pay!” Then, in a quieter voice, he said, “I do apologise to the parents for that shocking display. I have password-locked access to the wall-screen’s controls, so there will not be a repeat. Violinists, please, play on.”

Nobody, however, was paying much attention to the music any more, and the room was filled with whispered conversation for the rest of the concert. Afterwards, all the school’s pupils dispersed to their various homes. As Poppy and Emma left with Lara, Steven came up to them outside the front gate. Emma scowled at him.

“Hi Poppy,” he said. “Nice movie.” He grinned, then turned to Emma. “Speaking of which – would you like to go to the movies with me?”

“No!” she replied. “Fuck off!”

“Emma!” said Lara. “Language!”

“Mum, he raped me!” said Emma.

“What?” said Lara. She narrowed her eyes and turned on Steven.

Steven held his hands up defensively. “Look, she’s been flaunting herself all over the school – she should count herself lucky that she caught the attention of someone with both a healthy libido and a high sperm count. That’s pretty rare these days.”

“Ha!” said Emma. She raised her voice. “Steven Darrow’s a rapist!” she yelled. “And he’s got a tiny little dick!”

Steven’s cheeks flushed. “Shut up,” he said.

But Poppy, laughing, took up Emma’s chant, and the two girls chorused, “Steven’s got a tiny dick, Steven’s got a tiny dick…”

Steven’s fists clenched and unclenched. Then he turned on his heel and marched away.

“We have to call the police!” exclaimed Lara.

“What’s the point?” said Emma. “It’s practically impossible to convict someone of rape these days, and the police know it. Plus, with that movie we made, nobody’s going to believe I don’t like being raped. Let’s just go home. It doesn’t matter – I’m over it.”

Lara watched Steven’s retreating figure with a stern glare, but then she sighed. “Well I suppose it does kind of pale into insignificance when compared to your ordeal in the public toilets,” she said. “But however did someone get hold of your movie?”

Emma blushed and shrugged. “No idea,” she said. “Maybe they downloaded it from my phone while I was showering.”

******************

Midway through the afternoon, as Emma and Poppy were lying in Poppy’s bed, smearing shit all over each other, Emma’s phone rang. She wiped her hand as clean as possible on the only bit of non-shitty duvet she could see, then answered it. Chloe’s face appeared.

“Oh my God!” exclaimed Chloe, averting her eyes. “Mind if I put you on audio-only?”

“Be my guest,” said Emma. “What’s up?”

“Well, I figured I ought to tell you – you were right,” said Chloe. “All three of you.”

“About what?” asked Emma.

“The Brantasia. Oh my God, what a feeling!”

Emma grinned. “Enjoyed it, did you? Do tell.”

“Well,” said Chloe, “I was determined not to do it in my panties, but I guess you know how hard that is to avoid. I had no idea how suddenly it would come out – and with how little warning. I was wandering the perfume counters at Debenham’s when it all came out. Oh my God – it was so embarrassing!”

Emma began rubbing her clitoris with her free hand. “What were you wearing?”

“Oh, I had on these little white hotpants, with no panties underneath. Tight, but stretchy – and very skimpy – they show at least half of my bottom. High-cut at the sides, you know.”

“I know the type,” said Emma.

“Well, as you can imagine they didn’t manage to hold all of the shit, so I was dripping great chunks of the stuff as I ran for the ladies’. I was totally mortified, yet also highly aroused by the incredible sensation of shitting so smoothly and beautifully – then as I ran I suppose the shit must have been oozing forwards or something, because the next thing I knew, I was collapsing to my knees in one of the best orgasms ever! It was so humiliating to cum like that in front of so many people in the store, but as I struggled to my feet and carried on walking, I just kept getting hit with orgasm after orgasm! By the time I got to the toilet, I was thinking to myself – screw the embarrassment, this is fucking awesome!”

Emma laughed. “So did you clean up, or what?”

“Oh yes – after another couple of orgasms. I managed to get the hotpants mostly clean, but I didn’t enjoy wearing them home wet.”

“So, are you going to keep eating Brantasia?” inquired Emma.

Chloe chuckled. “I suppose I am,” she said. “Having experienced the effects once, I’d say I’m officially hooked. But I’m still not into all the smearing and stuff that you and your sister enjoy. Did you two have fun with Rosie last night?”

“We did,” said Emma with a smile. “She didn’t stay all that long though. I gather her parents keep her on quite a short leash.”

“That’ll have to change once we start touring,” said Chloe. “My God, think of the parties we’ll have!”

Emma smiled as she thought of the parties. “Wow,” she said, “touring’s going to be great!”

Chloe laughed. “Well, I guess I’ll see you on Saturday. Oh – I gather Terry’s going to be there, so make sure you wear something conservative. We don’t want him freaking out and pulling the plug.”

Emma nodded. “Thanks for the warning,” she said.

******************

After supper that evening, the doorbell rang. Lara, who was washing the dishes in just a pair of fresh panties, panicked as she tried to remember where her dress was. Then, on an impulse, she threw caution to the wind, walked straight up to the front door, and opened it.

It was Steven.

“What are you doing here?” asked Lara, frowning. She covered her breasts with her hands.

Steven was carrying a bunch of flowers. “My God, you must be the sexiest mum I’ve ever seen!” he said with wide eyes.

“That’s as may be,” said Lara, flattered despite herself. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, I came to offer Emma my apologies, and these flowers,” he said. “I was hoping she might accompany me to a party tonight. It’s to celebrate the end of term.”

Lara stared at him. “You want a date with my daughter, after raping her?”

“Look,” said Steven. “She’s a lustful young wench who loves male attention. She wanted it, really, and she enjoyed it too. Come on – you know she wanted it.”

“I know no such thing,” said Lara, still frowning.

Steven stepped up to her. “Of course you do,” he said, his face inches from hers. “You’re a hot little number yourself. You love to be naked around other people – even strangers.” He pulled a lily out of the bunch of flowers he was carrying, and slowly brushed along the inner curve of Lara’s breast with the petals. “I can see where Emma gets her looks from,” he murmured. “She has your eyes. Beautiful eyes.”

“Yes, well,” said Lara, a little breathlessly. She backed away from his touch. “Thank you, but I’m really not interested in what you think about my eyes. What concerns me is that you raped my daughter, and she hates you for it, so there’s no point in your…”

She broke off as Steven, advancing, ran the lily up her neck, along the line of her chin, up her cheek, down again, and then brought it back to her breast. He dropped the rest of the flowers on the floor and took hold of one of her wrists, prying it away from her breast. Then he started caressing her exposed nipple with the lily.

Lara had backed up all the way to the wall and could retreat no further. She looked up into Steven’s penetrating eyes. “What, you’re going to rape me too?” she asked in an unsteady voice.

Steven reached down and cupped Lara’s pussy through her panties. He gently pressed his middle finger into the groove between her labia, and slowly massaged her clitoris. “No, I’m not going to rape you,” he said in a low voice. “But think about it – would it be so bad? I’m young, strong, virile – and I find you to be an incredibly exciting, sexy, beautiful woman. Is that so awful?”

Lara dropped both her hands and pressed her palms against the wall behind her. Involuntarily she began undulating her pussy against Steven’s finger. “Well,” she murmured, “it’s not … it’s just … um … oh God…”

Steven continued to stroke her nipples as he lifted his hand up and then slid it down again, this time inside Lara’s panties. Lara gasped as he contacted her clitoris directly. “Don’t you think,” said Steven, “it might be … nice … to be raped by me?”

Lara closed her eyes and moaned. “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes – it would be nice.”

“And don’t you think Emma probably enjoyed it?” he murmured.

“Yes,” gasped Lara. “She must have.”

“And don’t you think she should give me a chance to apologise, and give her these flowers?”

“Yes!” said Lara. “It’s … only fair…”

Steven reached down further and slipped two fingers into Lara’s cunt. “And don’t you think she’d have a good time if she went with me to this party tonight?”

“Yes – I’m sure she would,” moaned Lara, spreading her legs apart.

“Will you see if you can persuade her to go with me?” asked Steven, gently sliding his fingers in and out of her.

“Yes … oh yes. I’ll make sure … she goes with you,” said Lara, panting as she approached orgasm.

“And what do you think she should wear?” asked Steven.

“Something … sexy,” breathed Lara. “A very short dress… So short you can see her panties…”

“Do you think I’d be able to resist her, if she wore such a dress?”

“No!” gasped Lara. “I think … you’d probably … want to … rape her.”

“And the way she looks, don’t you think that’s understandable?” said Steven, as he stroked her g-spot, very slowly, keeping her on the brink of orgasm.

“Yes … oh yes … she’s so sexy in a short dress … quite understandable…”

“So if I were to rape her tonight … you could hardly blame me, right?”

“No – not at all,” said Lara, massaging her breasts with her hands. “Oh God – rape me, Steven!”

“Not now,” said Steven. “Tonight I’m going to rape Emma. And you’re going to help me, by going upstairs and persuading her to come with me to the party.”

“Yes – yes I’ll help you rape Emma!” exclaimed Lara. “Oh God I’m coming!”

Her loins exploded in ecstasy and she screamed with pleasure, sinking to the floor as her legs collapsed under her. Yet Steven did not withdraw his fingers from her cunt, but continued to stroke her, keeping her coming over and over again.

“Tell me what I should do to Emma tonight,” he whispered in her ear.

“Rape her!” gasped Lara. “Rape her cunt, rape her anus – she likes that – pee on her, poop on her, use her as your toilet…”

Steven smiled and withdrew his fingers. “Well – if you say so,” he said. “Now go upstairs, and tell her to put on something sexy and go out with me.”

Lara sat panting for a moment, then she struggled to her feet. Steven stood aside to let her pass, but she turned her face up to him with a look of sudden hardness. “Just bring her back in one piece,” she said. “Or I’ll hunt you down and kill you like a dog.”

Leaving Steven startled in her wake, she hurried upstairs and went into Emma’s room, where her daughters were watching sexy music videos. “Emma, Steven’s downstairs,” she said.

“What?” Emma frowned. “Did you tell him to piss off?”

“He brought flowers for you – he wants to apologise,” said Lara. “And … he wants to take you to an end-of-term celebratory party.”

Emma’s jaw dropped. “The nerve of the guy!” she exclaimed. “I hope you sent him packing!”

“Actually no,” said Lara. “I think you should go with him. Come on – you’ll have fun!”

“Are you kidding?” said Poppy in disbelief.

“He raped me!” added Emma, equally incredulous.

“Now Emma,” said Lara, folding her arms. “After last night’s little psychological experiment, do you really expect me to be outraged at the thought of you getting raped?”

Emma was taken aback. “Well,” she said, “I didn’t really think … well, I’m not sure. This morning you seemed…”

“Come on, dear,” said Lara. “Admit it – you wanted me to enjoy the idea of you two being raped. And perhaps I do, to a certain extent. More significantly, I’m pretty sure you’re ambivalent about the notion yourself. Now I’m sure you’ll agree that Steven’s a good-looking lad. And heck, there’ll be other people there.”

“Yeah – sixth-formers!” said Emma.

“And you don’t have any friends in the sixth form?” inquired Lara.

“Some,” said Emma, “but there’s no guarantee any of them will be there.”

“Regardless,” said Lara, “I think you’ll have a good time. There’ll be music, dancing probably, alcohol certainly…”

“Can I go?” asked Poppy.

“No,” said Lara. “You haven’t been invited. And you’re too young.”

Emma pondered the idea. The Greaves household was an alcohol-free zone – it would certainly be nice to go to a party where there was drinking. Still … it was Steven!

“You were rather mean to him today,” Lara reminded her. “Don’t you think you should give him a chance to apologise for raping you? The flowers are lovely…”

“All right, all right,” said Emma crossly. “I suppose it might be fun – as long as Steven keeps his distance.”

“Well you’d better clean up then,” said Lara, “and put on something nice.”

Emma nodded.

******************

Half an hour later, she was ready. Lara looked her up and down. “Nice,” she said, “but isn’t the dress a little … concealing?”

Emma looked down at herself. She was wearing a little black dress which barely covered her buttocks, and she had buttoned it up in front all the way to the neckline, which was high enough that it showed hardly any cleavage. “Yeah,” she said, “well I don’t want to look too sexy, or Steven will be all over me.”

“Yes but darling,” said Lara, “think of what the other girls will be wearing. Do you really want to be the most prudish girl there?”

“That’s a good point,” admitted Emma. “I should probably wear something skimpier.”

“Poppy, how about that pretty little denim dress of yours?” asked Lara. “Would you mind if Emma wears that?”

“Not at all,” said Poppy. “But I don’t think she’ll be able to get into it. I got it when I was about nine.”

“We’ll see,” said Lara.

Poppy fetched the dress, and Emma tried it on. This was another button-up dress, but it was for a much slimmer – not to mention shorter – girl than she was. There was absolutely no way she could close it around her breasts, nor around her hips. The button at waist height was the only one she could fasten – above and below it, the dress gaped wide open to reveal most of her panties and most of her cleavage. She had taken of her bra, and now her breasts were bursting out of the dress, though her nipples managed to remain concealed. At the back, the dress came only halfway down her panties.

“Perfect,” said Lara.

Trotting downstairs, Emma found Steven with his feet up on the couch, watching television. “Make yourself at home, why don’t you!” she remarked dryly.

Steven got to his feet. “Wow, you look great!” he said.

“Thanks,” she said. “Shall we go?”

They went out to his car, and she got into the passenger seat. “Where is this party, anyway?” she asked.

Steven started the car and pulled out of the driveway. “Erik’s house,” he said. “You know Erik Andersen? Tall guy, blond – built like Hammer Yates?”

“Viking? Of course I know him,” said Emma. “Everyone knows Viking.”

It was a half-hour drive to Erik’s house. When Steven had parked, he leaned across to kiss Emma, but she backed away. “You needn’t think you’re going to get any,” she said. “I’m here for the party, not for you.”

Steven shrugged. “Suit yourself,” he said. “Let’s go inside then.”

He led her to the front door, then held it open so she could go inside ahead of him. “Thanks,” she said.

Inside, he showed her into the living room. In the doorway, she paused and looked around. Two boys were sitting in front of the wall-screen, playing an adult-rated video game called Rape Wrestling, in which you could play either a range of petite, buxom teenaged girls, or a range of huge, strapping male wrestlers. In any case, the outcome was always the same.

Three other boys were sitting on the couch, watching television on a second wall-screen. Two others were playing some kind of drinking game either side of a coffee table in the middle of the room. Emma could hear male laughter and voices coming from the kitchen, and a thunder of running feet upstairs. Something made of glass smashed.

As the boys in the living room noticed her, they all stopped what they were doing and turned grinning faces towards her. Her stomach tied itself in knots. “Oh crap,” she said.

Steven came up behind her, reached around her, and popped open the button holding her dress closed. Then he sank his hand down into her panties, while with the other he started squeezing her left breast.

“How many?” she asked, tears springing to her eyes.

“Twenty-five, give or take,” said Steven, sliding one finger in and out of her cunt. “This is for saying I have a tiny dick.”

“Can you at least get me drunk first?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Sure. What can I get you? Beer? Whisky? There’s some vodka and orange going around somewhere.”

“Wine, if you have some,” said Emma. “I like red wine.”

“Erik!” Steven shouted. “Do you have any red wine?”

Erik came through from the kitchen. He looked like he had been working out – he was shirtless and sweat was pouring off him. Even in her misery Emma could not help admiring his powerfully muscular build. He was a handsome boy – man, really – with his blue eyes, blond hair and chiselled features. At six foot five he positively towered over her. “Yes, I have red wine,” he said in his endearingly thick Norwegian accent. His voice was rich and deep. “So this is Emma! I recognise you from the movie of you and your sister in the toilets. It’s nice to meet you.” Bizarrely, he held out his hand, and Emma shook it. “I shall get the wine,” he said, “and then we shall have some sex, ja?” He beamed.

Some of the other boys had got to their feet and were now pressing in around Emma. Hands reached out to grab her breasts, and her dress was swiftly pulled from her shoulders. A moment later her panties were yanked down to her ankles, and then she was pulled down to the floor.

“Wait! Wait!” she said urgently. “Can’t we at least do this in a bed?”

But her plea was ignored, and in less than ten seconds the first penis, belonging to a boy named Alfie, was pressing into her cunt. She winced – she was still pretty dry – but after a bit of thrusting she became lubricated enough that she could start to enjoy it, if only on a visceral level. She was starting to get carpet burns on her bottom and shoulder blades, however.

She was not the only one. Alfie was starting to grimace. “The fucking carpet’s burning my knees,” he complained. “I think Emma’s right – we should take her upstairs.”

“Use my parents’ bed,” said Erik, returning with an opened wine bottle. “I’ll wash the sheets after.”

Alfie pulled out of Emma, and she was lifted to her feet. Surrounded by eager, groping boys, she was taken upstairs and laid down on a large double bed. Alfie climbed on top of her and slid into her, this time more easily. It did not take him long to spurt his cream up against her cervix.

“Here,” said Erik, handing Emma the wine bottle. She took it gratefully and drank deeply. Then she stopped and coughed.

“Nice,” she croaked. As the next boy, Simon, slid his erection into her cunt, she continued to swig from the bottle. By the time he unloaded into her, the bottle was half empty.

“My turn,” said Erik. “But I want to fuck her arse. Get on your hands and knees, Emma.”

Emma shuddered, but complied. A moment later she was clenching her teeth and squeezing her eyes shut as she felt her anus being forcibly penetrated. It felt like Erik had a huge penis.

“Be careful there, Erik,” said Steven. “She’s liable to shit all over your cock.”

Erik slid himself in and out of Emma’s rectum with long, slow strokes, which gradually increased in speed. “If she does, she can clean me with her tongue,” he said with a shrug.

“Ugh, gross, no!” said Steven. “None of us will want to kiss her then!”

Erik pulled out, then he buried himself in Emma’s cunt. “I like the feel of this girl,” he announced solemnly. “Smooth arse, tight cunt. Ja, she is a good lay.”

Fifteen minutes later, some of the others were getting impatient. “Aren’t you done yet, Erik?” asked one in frustration as he massaged his erection through his shorts.

Erik was by now back in Emma’s anus. “You have to take your time over these things,” he said. “We have all night, don’t we? What’s the hurry? Anyway, it’s my fucking house – I’ll take as long as I want.”

Emma hated to admit it, but she was actually having fun. Erik was cracking her up with the way he talked, even if he was a horrible chauvinist, and his penis was feeling wonderful inside her. And the stamina of the guy! It seemed like he would be able to go on like this for hours.

“Is it okay if I masturbate?” she asked.

“Go ahead,” said Erik. “Feel free to have an orgasm, too – I like to have my little Jormundgand squeezed.”

“Your little what?” asked Steven with a snort of laughter.

“Would you like me to explain Norse mythology to you?” asked Erik. “Or would you like me to concentrate on ejaculating into this girl?”

“By all means concentrate,” said Steven, holding up his hands.

“Oh yes,” murmured Emma as she rubbed at her clitoris. “That feels so good Erik!”

“You like my cock?” asked Erik, proudly. “It is quite large.”

“Yes, yes I like it,” moaned Emma. “It feels so good in my arse. Fuck me harder, Viking!”

“God, you are a very hot girl,” said Erik, settling down on top of her and hammering his thick cock deep into her bowels.

“Oh … oh … I’m going to cum!” gasped Emma.

“Wait!” said Erik. He pulled out of her anus and slid back into her cunt. “Okay – now you can cum.”

Rubbing furiously at her clit, Emma shuddered as her climax washed through her body. “Ohhh!” she moaned in ecstasy.

“Yes, I can feel you squeezing me!” said Erik. “I like this a lot.”

Once her orgasm had subsided, Emma stopped rubbing herself, and simply lay panting on her front. Meanwhile, Erik removed himself from her cunt and eased himself back into her anus.

“Oh Viking,” murmured Emma, “you can fuck me all night as far as I’m concerned.”

“Jesus!” exclaimed one of the other boys. “Give someone else a turn, Erik!”

“Okay, okay,” said Erik. “Just give me a minute.”

Emma moaned loudly into the pillow as Erik’s thrusting intensified. Two minutes later he groaned and poured his semen into her rectum. Emma arched her spine and pushed back against Erik’s cock, trying to get him deeper inside her. She was disappointed when he pulled out of her with a little popping sound.

“God, look, her arse is staying open!” observed one boy.

“Who’s next?” said Emma, feeling empty and bereft. “Hurry up – I want a cock inside me!”

“Jeez, what a slut,” said Steven contemptuously.

Emma knew it was true – she was a slut. The thought made her feel cheap and dirty – and also aroused her enormously. She hated Steven – but she was excited by the thought of him fucking her, looking down at her with contempt in his eyes … she hoped he would spit on her…

After her fifteenth fuck, Emma was getting quite sore, but she was hornier than ever and loving the experience of being abused by all these boys. She loved to see them all staring at her gaping cunt and anus whenever her latest partner pulled out and climbed off her. She never made any attempt to close her legs or conceal any part of herself. She was open for fucking – and she did not care who fucked her. Let him be ugly, or filthy, or old, or simply a complete jerk like Steven – she would gratefully receive his cock.

A boy named Monty was putting his phone away. “I just talked to my brother,” he said. “He’s coming around with a few of his friends.”

“Bring them on,” murmured Emma happily.

******************

By four o’clock the next morning, she had been fucked by Steven and all his friends, and by Monty’s brother and his friends, and also by some friends of theirs. In all, sixty-two boys and men fucked either her cunt or her anus, or sometimes both. Some of them came back for seconds. During that time she learned how to give blow-jobs, since some of the boys could not wait for their turn. At one point she had three cocks inside her – one in her cunt, one in her anus and one in her mouth.

She had defecated twice during this time, but to her regret nobody wanted to cover her with it or shove it up her cunt. They simply made her scoop it into a bag, and then they laid a towel over the mess on the sheet. Eventually, however, when everybody had fucked her as much as they wanted to, their thoughts turned nastier.

“How about we shit all over her, like in the movie?” asked one boy.

“Not in this house!” said Erik. “Take her outside if you’re going to do that.”

“How about we fuck her with the wine bottle?” asked another boy.

“Ja, this is a good idea,” agreed Erik, pleased.

The wine bottle was empty. Emma gasped and squirmed as they pressed the wide end against her cunt. But no matter how they pushed and twisted it, it would not fit inside her. In the end, discouraged by her tears and screams, they gave up.

“We need to work up to it,” said Steven. “We need to stretch her.” He slid four fingers into Emma’s cunt, and attempted to push his thumb in as well. “See? She can’t even take my hand yet – what chance does she have with a wine bottle?” He pushed harder and harder, making Emma wince and grit her teeth in pain. Then, suddenly, his hand was inside her. He made a fist.

“There,” he said with satisfaction. “Your first fist-fucking.”

Emma half expected everybody who had fucked her to now come back and shove their fists into her, but it was not to be. When Steven removed his hand, she was picked up and carried downstairs and outside. Dropped unceremoniously on the grass, she lay still while, one by one, everybody took turns to shit and pee on her. She retrieved the turds that fell off her body, and mashed them into her breasts and pussy.

The sun was well up by the time they had finished with her. Covered in shit and dripping with pee, she was picked up and placed carefully into the boot of Steven’s car, which had been lined with plastic rubbish bags. Then the boot was closed, leaving her in darkness, and she heard the car start up.

Half an hour later, the car stopped and she squinted in the brightness as the boot was opened. Grimacing with distaste, Steven wrapped bags around her and then attempted to lift her up.

“I can get out myself,” said Emma, pushing him away. She climbed out gingerly, then practically collapsed on the paved driveway.

Steven jumped back into his car and drove off. Emma, very bow-legged, walked up to the front door and tried the handle. It was locked, and her purse was at Steven’s house. She rang the doorbell.

Grant opened the door a moment later. He stared at Emma for a moment, barely recognising her. Then he cried out in shock: “Emma!” Paying no heed to the shit covering her body, he picked her up in his arms and carried her inside. Climbing the stairs, he took her into his bedroom. Lara was tied up on the bed, naked, spread-eagled, and gagged. She yelled something unintelligible into the scarf which had been stuffed into her mouth. Grant sat Emma down on the edge of the bed, then he removed Lara’s gag.

“I didn’t even know she wasn’t home!” he exclaimed. “Did you?”

“I’ve been trying to tell you all night!” cried Lara, struggling against her bonds. “But you gagged me so fast! I was trying to tell you that we had to go and rescue Emma from Steven’s house!”

“Who’s Steven?” asked Grant.

“My boyfriend,” muttered Emma.

“Well don’t just stand there!” said Lara. “Get her into the shower! Once you’ve got her clean, run her a nice warm bath – but not too warm or it’ll hurt her poor pussy.”

Grant nodded, then he picked Emma up again and took her through to the bathroom. Poppy, bleary-eyed, came out of her room. “What’s going on?” she asked, and then she gaped at the sight of Emma.

“Never mind – go back to bed,” said Grant. “Or better still, get outside and do your chores.”

He placed Emma gently in the bath, then he unclipped the shower head and switched it on. When the flow had warmed up, he played it over Emma’s body, using his free hand to wash the shit from her. He felt uncomfortable washing her breasts and pussy, but he tried not to think about it, even when she moaned at his touch.

The shit quickly blocked up the plughole, with the result that Emma was soon sitting in several inches of brown, chunky water. Grant grimaced as he scooped up handfuls of shit and dumped them into the toilet. After a few handfuls, he flushed.

In this manner, he eventually got Emma fairly clean. Then he squirted some body soap into his hands, and liberally rubbed it over Emma’s entire body.

“Mmm, this is nice,” murmured Emma, her eyes closed. “Do my breasts again – that felt lovely.”

“I’m getting you clean, not pleasuring you,” said Grant shortly.

As he soaped her pussy, however, she said, “You’ll need to wash inside me – there’s some more shit in there.”

“You can deal with that yourself,” he said.

“Please, Dad? I’m so weak…”

With a sigh, he slipped two soapy fingers up into Emma’s cunt, and felt around. “I can’t feel anything in there,” he said, an erection growing in his pyjama bottoms despite himself.

“Keep trying,” murmured Emma. “I’m sure you’ll find something. Try deeper.”

Grant pushed his fingers further in, and even added a third and a fourth finger, but still he could find nothing. “That’s it,” he said, withdrawing his hand. “There’s nothing in there.” Using the shower head, he washed all remaining traces of shit down the plughole, then he put the plug in and switched on the taps. “You’ll feel a lot better after a nice bath,” he said.

And she did, somewhat, but she also felt terribly tired. She put on a pair of panties, which she almost immediately filled with shit, and then she climbed into bed, falling asleep just a few minutes later.

******************

It was nearly seven o’clock in the evening before she awoke. A lot, she discovered, had happened while she slept.

“Dad’s been arrested,” said Lara, sitting on the edge of Emma’s bed.

“Oh my goodness!” exclaimed Emma. “What for?”

“He beat up Steven!” said Poppy excitedly. “He went round to Steven’s house after we put you to bed, and he beat the crap out of him!”

Emma’s jaw dropped. “But … he’s half Steven’s size!”

“He’s a farmer,” said Lara. “Have you any idea how strong he is? His biceps are like rocks.”

“Wow,” said Emma, impressed. “But … what will happen to him?”

Lara sighed. “I don’t know, darling. You’d have thought Steven would take his beating like a man, but no, he had to go and call the police. And now your father’s facing a couple of years in prison, unless his lawyer can convince a jury that his actions were sufficiently mitigated by your … ordeal.”

“Which they were!” said Poppy.

“But the court may not see it that way,” said Lara ruefully. “Beating someone up for having sex is a big no-no these days.”

“But he didn’t just have sex with her!” said Poppy. “He raped her and shat all over her!”

“It wasn’t rape,” said Emma in a small voice. “I willingly consented. And it wasn’t just Steven.”

“Did you have a choice in the matter?” asked Lara. “I mean, if you hadn’t consented, would they have taken no for an answer?”

Emma shrugged. “No,” she said. “I suppose not.”

“Then it was as good as rape,” said Lara. “How many boys was it?”

Emma’s lower lip began to tremble. “About … sixty … I think.”

Lara gasped in astonishment. “Sixty??”

“Wow!” said Poppy.

Emma started to climb out of bed. “I need to go and see Steven,” she said. “Get him to drop the charges.”

“Oh no you don’t,” said Lara, pushing her back down. “You’re not going anywhere. Especially not back to that place. Who knows what they’ll do to you this time in revenge for what your dad did to Steven?”

“But I can’t let them put Dad in prison!” said Emma.

“We won’t,” said Lara. “I’ll go.”

“I’ll go too!” said Poppy.

“No you won’t!” said Lara firmly. “You stay here and look after your sister. Bring her some food – you must be starving, Emma.”

“Can I have some Brantasia?” asked Emma hopefully.

“Of course, but you need something more nutritious as well. I’ve put a lasagne in the oven – it’ll be ready in ten minutes or so.” She got to her feet. “Wish me luck!”

“Good luck, Mum!” said both girls, and they all hugged.

******************

Lara took a deep breath, then rang Steven’s doorbell. A woman in her early forties answered. “Hello?” she said.

“Are you Steven’s mother?” asked Lara.

“Yes,” said the woman. “And you are…?”

“I’m Lara Greaves – mother of Emma Greaves, the girl your son raped last night.”

“As I understand it, she was a more than willing participant,” said Mrs Darrow defiantly.

“With sixty boys queuing up behind Steven? I’m sure that’s the story they tell,” said Lara grimly.

Mrs Darrow’s face paled. “Sixty?” she said. “What are you talking about? Steven said it was just him and a couple of his friends…”

Lara snorted. “Well, you should have seen her when he dumped her on our doorstep this morning,” she said. “Naked and covered in the combined excrement of sixty boys. They raped her, then defecated all over her! Did Steven tell you that?”

“I hear that’s what she likes,” said Mrs Darrow, recovering somewhat.

“And I like sex,” said Lara. “That doesn’t mean I want to have sex with sixty men at once. Now I’ve come to see Steven – is he in?”

“Yes – but he’s rather fragile,” said Mrs Darrow. “I don’t want him seeing anyone.”

Lara folded her arms. “I’m not going to beat him up,” she said. “I just want to talk to him.”

“About what?”

“Dropping the charges,” said Lara. “I think you’ll agree that Grant’s actions were at least understandable, and at most justified.”

Mrs Darrow considered this for a moment. “I’ll see if he wants to see you,” she said. She closed the door.

Lara tapped her foot while she waited. Then the door opened again.

“He’ll see you,” said Mrs Darrow. Then she smirked. “If you leave your dress at the door.”

“Fine,” said Lara. She pulled her dress, which did not even cover her panties anyway, up over her head, and dropped it on the doorstep. Then she followed Mrs Darrow inside.

“Up the stairs and on the right,” said Mrs Darrow.

Lara, wearing just her bra, panties and shoes, climbed the stairs and entered Steven’s room. He was sitting in bed, propped up on pillows, playing a video game with another boy, who was sitting in a chair next to the bed. Steven looked terrible – his face was black and blue and he could barely see out of his eyes. “What do you want?” he asked, a little indistinctly on account of his split and swollen lips.

“I want you to drop the charges,” said Lara. “What will it take?”

Steven shrugged, then winced in pain. “You could start by sucking my cock,” he said.

“You’ll drop the charges if I do that?” asked Lara.

“Suck my cock, then we’ll talk,” said Steven.

“No,” said Lara. “Either make a deal, or don’t. I’m not giving anything away for free.”

“I’m Jeff,” said the boy in the chair next to Steven. He was staring in awe at Lara’s large breasts. “I just want you to know, I wasn’t involved in last night’s … thing.”

“Glad to hear it, Jeff,” said Lara. “Pleased to meet you.”

Steven put down his controller. “All right,” he said. “I’ll drop the charges … if you agree to let me have sex with you, Emma or Poppy whenever I want. If I come over to your house in the middle of the night, all three of you had better be at my disposal.”

“Nice try,” said Lara, “but you’re way too ambitious. For one thing, this deal can’t involve my children. For another, if you come to our house in the middle of the night demanding sex, I think my husband might be a little upset.”

Steven shuddered a little. “Good point,” he said.

“Also, I refuse to be in your debt for the foreseeable future,” said Lara. “This has to be a one-time thing.”

“Well – how about this,” said Steven. “You have sex with me now, and then spend the night, doing whatever I want, until morning.”

“And you’ll drop the charges?”

“Yes.”

Lara thought for a moment. “It’s a deal,” she said. “But I need to call my children to let them know when I’ll be home.” Steven nodded, and she called home. “Hi Emma – I’m not going to be home tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow morning, okay? Yes, I’m fine. It’ll be all right – trust me. I’ll see you tomorrow. Love you – bye.”

Steven smiled. “All right,” he said. “Get naked, and climb in here with me.”

“Can I have sex with her too?” asked Jeff.

“Sure,” said Steven, grinning.

“That wasn’t part of the deal,” said Lara, taking off her bra.

“You said you’d do whatever I want,” said Steven. “If I want you to have sex with Jeff, you’d better do it.”

Lara sighed as she pulled down her panties and stepped out of them. “All right,” she said. She kicked off her shoes and climbed into bed beside Steven, who threw back the covers so that his view of her would be unrestricted. He pulled down his pyjama bottoms, then gingerly turned himself over.

“Spread your legs,” he said, and Lara did so. “I love that you shave,” he said. “You’re pretty cool for an older woman. Spread your legs wider.”

Lara did so, her legs now spread obscenely wide. Steven grinned as he stared down at her pussy. Then he positioned his erection at the opening of her cunt, and slid himself inside her with a few thrusts.

The door opened and Mrs Darrow came in, saying, “How’s it going in here? Oh!” She stopped at the sight of Steven fucking a naked Lara, with Jeff staring wide-eyed at the two of them.

“Hi Mum,” said Steven, apparently not the least bit embarrassed about being seen like this.

Lara covered her face with her hands, which also meant that her arms were covering her breasts.

“None of that,” snapped Steven. “No covering up.”

Lara sighed and put her hands down by her sides. She did not attempt to meet Mrs Darrow’s eye.

“So this is the deal?” said Mrs Darrow. “She’s prostituting herself to save her husband a few months in jail?”

“Yup,” said Steven.

Mrs Darrow walked over to the bed. “What a slut,” she said. “Like mother, like daughter.” She leaned over and spat on Lara, her saliva landing in a glob on Lara’s right breast.

Steven laughed. “Nice one, Mum!” He hocked and snorted, dredging up a big glob of his own, and then he spat on Lara’s other breast. His was gooey, and partly greenish-yellow.

Jeff got in on the act, too, spitting on to Lara’s face. It landed on her nose and cheek.

“Don’t wipe it off!” Steven warned Lara, as she moved her hand towards her face.

“So how long is she staying?” asked Mrs Darrow.

“Until tomorrow morning,” said Steven. “In the meantime, she’ll do whatever I want.”

His mother nodded. “Could you get her to clean the house?” she said.

Steven chuckled. “I could – but I think I’d rather make her do other things.”

“I’m sure,” said Mrs Darrow. Then she smiled nastily. “Want me to call your friends and ask them to come round?”

Steven laughed. “Yes please!” he said. “As many as you can. And tell Monty to bring his brother’s friends too.” He turned to Jeff. “There you go, Jeff. You said you were sorry to have missed out on last night’s fun – well now you’re going to see exactly what it was like.”

Jeff grinned, and Lara bit her lip. This was going to be worse than she had anticipated. Already she felt sick from the guilt of being fucked by Steven – she had been a virgin when she had met Grant, and therefore Grant was the only man who had ever made love to her. She was doing this for him … yet she felt she was betraying him nonetheless. Would he understand? Should she tell him?

As Steven squirted his semen deep into her cunt, another thought began to prey on her mind. She was probably ovulating right now, and she had no contraception. Grant had not had sex with her in over a year – what if she got pregnant? As Jeff took Steven’s place and began thrusting eagerly inside her, she sighed and mentally steeled herself for the ordeal ahead.

******************

But Lara’s ordeal was not, in fact, as bad as Emma’s had been. The idea of gang-raping a pretty fifteen-year-old girl with big breasts had proven very attractive to Steven’s friends, and to Monty’s brother’s … but the thought of raping her thirty-something mother was apparently less appealing, and only about half of the previous night’s gathering showed up. By three o’clock the next morning, they had all had enough. Half of them had gone home.

Mrs Darrow had been egging them on the whole time. “Is nobody else going to fuck the slut?” she demanded. “Nobody?”

“We’re tired, Mum!” said Steven irritably. “I’d kind of like to get some sleep.”

“Well I hope you’re all going to poop on her like you did with her daughter,” she said.

“I don’t need to go,” Steven replied grumpily. “Why don’t you crap on her?”

Mrs Darrow contemplated this. “Maybe I will,” she said. “Will you take her outside for me?”

A couple of the boys got Lara to her feet, and together they went downstairs and out of the back door, switching on the outside lights to illuminate the garden. They laid Lara on the grass, and Mrs Darrow lifted her dress, pulled down her panties, squatted, and defecated on to Lara’s chest. Then she straddled Lara, and peed on to Lara’s face. “Drink it!” she ordered.

Lara, by now conditioned to accepting any orders given to her as coming indirectly from Steven, opened her mouth and began to swallow Mrs Darrow’s urine. Mrs Darrow laughed. “What a filthy slut!” she said. “Now rub that poop into your breasts and pussy.” As she watched Lara do this, she rubbed excitedly at her clitoris through her dress. Who would have thought that she could get so aroused by dominating another woman like this?

She stepped out of her panties, and lowered her bottom down towards Lara’s face. “Lick my bottom clean,” she said.

Obediently, Lara licked around Mrs Darrow’s anus until it was clean. This was far as Mrs Darrow had intended to go, but now she had another idea. “Now … lick my pussy,” she said. Her eyes closed and she gasped with pleasure as she felt Lara’s tongue probing her vagina and licking her clitoris. “Oh, that’s good…” she murmured. “Good slut…”

“Your Mum’s really getting into this, isn’t she?” said Jeff, watching from the window in Steven’s room.

“Yeah,” said Steven as he filmed the scene. “I don’t suppose my Dad would be too amused if he saw this. Mum had better do as I say from now on.”

Outside, Mrs Darrow moaned loudly as she climaxed, hours of pent-up excitement now exploding through her entire body. Panting, she climbed off Lara, then she stood up and looked down with contempt at the naked woman lying on the grass. She spat on Lara’s face. “Slut,” she said, “it seems everyone’s got tired of you. I suppose this means you can go home. I’ll see to it that Steven drops the charges against your husband.”

“Thank you,” said Lara, getting unsteadily to her feet.

“Don’t think you’re getting your clothes back,” said Mrs Darrow. “You can go home just like that.”

“My car keys are in my purse,” said Lara.

“I’ll get your purse,” said Mrs Darrow. She went inside and fetched it.

As Lara drove home, naked, she tried to justify her actions tonight by telling herself that she had just set Grant free. But somehow, it still felt like a betrayal…

******************

At eleven o’clock that morning, Lara was still naked, but she was clean, and she was watching a movie with Emma and Poppy. It was an action-adventure called The Mummy – yet another remake. The helpless heroine, played by popular actress Sira Swann, had just woken up and found herself lying on a stone slab, spread-eagled with her wrists and ankles tied to the corners. As she screamed in distress, three skeletal creatures gradually ripped every shred of clothing from her body, and then began squeezing her breasts and molesting her pussy with their bony hands.

Emma and Poppy masturbated each other as they watched. This was the seventh time Sira had been completely naked in this movie, but although this was arguably the least gratuitous of those naked scenes, both girls loved the thought of those horrible skeletons molesting her while she lay helpless and tied up. And since both girls had seen the movie before, they knew that Sira would spend the whole of the rest of the film (which ran for another twenty minutes or so) without a stitch on. That, too, was an exciting concept.

Then they heard the front door open. Lara jumped to her feet and ran through to the hall. “Grant!” she exclaimed. She jumped into his arms and wrapped her legs around his waist.

“Well this is a nice welcome home!” said Grant with a smile. “Steven dropped the charges – just like that. Any idea why?”

Lara blushed. “I … I…” she began. She put her feet down and stepped back from him. “I kind of … made a deal with him…”

Grant pursed his lips. “Do I need to know the substance of that deal?”

Lara shook her head. “I’d rather not elaborate,” she said.

“Then I won’t press,” said Grant. “Thank you.”

They spent the rest of the day doing family things. All of them had been through a lot recently, and needed some time to relax and recover. In the evening, Rosie called Emma, and the two of them chatted for a couple of hours. Both were getting excited about the recording session they had scheduled for the following day.

******************

The recording session went well, but upon its release two weeks later, the single bombed, and the future of The Farmers’ Daughters looked uncertain. On a sunny day in late July, Val showed up at the house where the girls were being taught dance moves. He had bad news for them.

“The Christian market,” he said, “isn’t biting. I’d got you a gig supporting Brothers in Christ next weekend, but to be honest I’m going to have to pull the plug. I don’t want to throw any more money at this band – it’s just not worth it.”

The girls were dismayed. “It’s the video!” exclaimed Chloe. “The video was crap, Val! It’s no wonder nobody took an interest. You wouldn’t let us wear Marge’s outfits, and you wouldn’t let us dance! We looked like lemons, sitting on those chairs and singing earnestly into the cameras.”

Val nodded. “I believe you’re right,” he said, “but that’s what Terry had in mind for the band, and he refused to let you wear Marge’s outfits because he said they were shameful. Personally, I liked them. But as to the dancing – be fair, none of you could dance very well when we recorded the video. Except for Chloe, of course.”

“But aren’t you the boss?” asked Emma. “Why should you give a crap what Terry thinks?”

“We have a contract,” said Val. “Terry was very anxious to ensure that you didn’t become just another raunchy teen girl band, so he made sure he had a certain measure of creative control over your image.”

“Okay,” said Chloe. “So what if you kill the Farmers’ Daughters band, and re-hire us as a different band? One that Terry wouldn’t have any control over?”

“What kind of band?” asked Val. “My attraction to the project was that it was indeed an interesting counterpoint to the current rash of girl bands. I thought Terry’s idea had merit. I was wrong, it seems, but I don’t have a better plan for you.”

“What if,” said Chloe, “we still sing about chastity and purity and all that crap, but we wear Marge’s outfits – or perhaps something even skimpier – and we dance really, really raunchily?”

Val stared at her. “It’s an intriguing idea,” he said. “Perhaps I can get around the contract if we change the name of the band, ditch the current single, and start again with a new song. We won’t be able to keep Brian on as songwriter – but to be honest that’s no loss.” His eyes lit up as plans spun out in his mind. “I know the perfect songwriter – Jude Willard. He writes very catchy tunes, and I’m sure it would amuse him to write Christian songs knowing that they would be performed by teenaged girls dancing sexily in skimpy outfits. Now, what to call the band…”

“I have an idea,” said Poppy. “How about ‘Denimania’?”

“Denimania,” Val repeated. “I like it. Nice ring to it. Denimania. Perfect!” He grinned. “Keep dancing, girls! We’re back in business.” He turned to the choreographer, Davina Lumsden. “Sex it up, Davina, would you?”

“With pleasure!” Davina replied with a grin.

“Oh dear,” said Rosie fretfully to Emma. “My Dad’s not going to like this.”

“If he kicks you out,” said Emma, “you can come and live with Poppy and me. If you want…”

Rosie smiled at her. “I’d love that,” she said. “But I’ll see how my parents take it.”

******************

From then on the project was fast-tracked. A new single was written, rehearsed, recorded and released by the end of August. This time they struck gold, thanks to some creative and aggressive marketing by Val’s label, and their video became the ninth most downloaded song of the year. At a party in Val’s house, they whooped with delight as they sipped champagne and watched their video. Poppy giggled as the camera closed in on her gyrating crotch, the lighting below her making her labia easily visible either side of the thin gusset of her Daisy Dukes. She turned to Chloe. “Is Harriet not coming?”

“Harriet and I broke up last week,” said Chloe, frowning slightly.

“Good!” said Poppy. “I’ve been wanting to do this for ages!” She leaned over and planted a kiss on Chloe’s lips.

Chloe pulled away and chuckled. “Slow down, Pops,” she said. “I think you’ve had a little too much to drink.”

But ten minutes later, the two of them were entwining tongues as eagerly as Emma and Rosie were doing on another couch. And when Val came around with their new manager, Ozzie Bartlett, he found all four of them naked and tonguing each other’s cunts.

“Man, I love this job!” said Val, grinning.

“These girls are going to be a pleasure to manage,” remarked Ozzie.

******************

The following Saturday was their first gig. They had put together a three-song set, and Marge had made their outfits just a little bit more revealing than they had been. She had also given them all a dozen pairs of incontinence panties, which were white, smooth to the touch, strongly elasticated around the waist- and leg-bands, and sufficiently skimpy for the girls to still feel sexy while wearing them. She replaced Poppy’s shorts with a tiny microskirt which showed more of Poppy’s panties than it covered, and she had shortened the other girls’ skirts and dresses so that they were all showing at least two inches of buttock. Emma was certain that Marge had also cut her neckline even deeper than it had been, because now she found it almost impossible to keep her nipples covered.

They ran out on to the stage in their tight, revealing denim outfits, waving excitedly to a crowd who had really come to see Sexpot, the band for whom they were opening. Their reception was lukewarm at best. The backing music started, and the girls began to dance.

Emma, who Val felt was the best singer amongst them, nervously put the microphone to her lips. “Oh when you have a boyfriend, he only wants one thing,” she quavered. Pull yourself together! she told herself crossly. Don’t make a mess of your first ever pop performance! She took a deep breath and sang the second line: “But don’t you let him touch you, until you get a ring.” As she sang this, following the carefully worked-out choreography, she ran a hand up her inner thigh, then up the front of her panties as she spread her feet and gyrated her hips. Her nipples were both peeping over the neckline of her dress, but she continued, “Hold on to your virginity, until your wedding night. ‘Cause you will be rewarded, when Jesus makes things right.”

The rest of the girls joined in for the chorus: “Abstinence is good, it’s not a dirty word. Your purity is beautiful, to lose it is absurd. Love yourself the way you are, unsullied by a boy. Make them wait until you’re wed, or you’ll become their toy.”

They were right at the front of the stage for this, grinding their pussies into the lenses of the cameras below. The crowd was uncertain – nonplussed by the mixed signals they were receiving. On the one hand they were not appreciating the lyrics one bit … on the other, they could see the girls’ white panties almost constantly, and this was keeping their attention.

“Boys just want to strip you naked, then have sex with you,” sang Chloe, dancing in front of the others as they fell back to support her with ‘Ooo-ooo’ backing vocals. “But if you want to stay a virgin, here is what to do. Wear long dresses, skirts or jeans, clothe your arms to the wrist. ‘Cause if you cover up your skin, he won’t know what he’s missed!” With that, she untied the front of her blouse, then slipped it off her shoulders, exposing her perfect breasts to the audience.

Finally, they were starting to get the joke, and appreciate it. Cheers and whoops were heard. As Poppy sang the third verse, all about how to fend off unwelcome advances, she did nothing to fend off Emma and Rosie’s hands, which were continually fondling her breasts and rubbing her panties. By the end of the verse, she too was topless.

As the song concluded, the audience went wild – they had loved it. “Thank you very much,” said Emma into her microphone. “We are Denimania – good Christian girls who believe in purity, abstinence, good clean behaviour, and keeping ourselves covered up.”

Laughter and cheers resounded from the audience. Val had warned her to keep the chat to a minimum, so as not to bore the audience, but she felt like pushing her luck. “Incidentally,” she said, “I’m getting married myself this weekend.”

There were a few cheers, but clearly they did not care all that much. “To my sister!” added Emma, pointing at Poppy, who raised her arms, waved, and jumped up and down, causing her breasts to bounce enticingly.

The crowd drew a collective gasp, then cheered even more loudly than before. “And now,” said Emma, “here’s a little number called ‘I Love You Too Much to Let You Inside Me’.”

By the end of the second song, Emma was naked apart from her panties, as was Rosie. Chloe and Poppy were still wearing their microskirts, though these had bunched into belts and barely covered their panties. Something else had happened, too – Poppy had let out a huge shit into her panties. Emma wondered whether they should just try to ignore this, but the crowd’s enthusiastic support was making her bold.

“Look at my sister!” she said, pointing at Poppy. “She’s made a mess in her panties!”

Poppy put her face in her hands and turned away from the audience, who got a perfect view of her bulging panties as the cameras zoomed in and Poppy’s bottom filled the huge wallscreens either side of the stage. “What a naughty girl!” exclaimed Emma. “She needs to be punished. Spank her, Rosie!”

Rosie spanked Poppy hard, her spread palm sinking into the shit-filled bulge in the younger girl’s panties. Poppy felt a rush of shit surging over her clitoris, and she screamed in orgasm. “I do believe she’s getting off on it!” said Emma. “Dirty little girl. Anyway, here’s our third and final song – ‘What Would Mary Madgalene Do?’”

As they performed this song, Emma was getting intoxicated by the cheers and applause of the audience. Midway through the first verse, she shuffled her panties down her hips until all of her shaved pussy was revealed. At the back her bottom was completely bared, as her panties were now resting just below her buttocks. While singing “Fill me, Jesus, with your love,” she teased apart her labia for the camera’s benefit and started rubbing her clitoris.

During the second verse, which was sang by Poppy, Emma slipped off her panties and threw them into the audience, to huge applause. She trotted over to where Rosie was dancing, and put her arms around her. Rosie smiled, and they kissed lovingly. As their tongues probed each other’s mouths, Emma reached down and started pulling Rosie’s panties down. Rosie resisted, holding on to the front and back of her panties as Emma tugged down the sides. Emma looked up at Rosie questioningly, but Rosie merely winked and mouthed “Keep going!” She kept up her pretence at resistance until Emma had got her panties down to mid-thigh, at which point Rosie let go and put her face in her hands.

Naked, she allowed Emma to lead her to the front of the stage, where she lay down on her back when guided by Emma. She was right in front of one of the cameras, by Emma’s design, but she did not resist as Emma pushed her legs wide apart. Licking two fingers, Emma slid them into Rosie’s cunt, and gently finger-fucked her while the cameraman, who could hardly believe his luck, filmed the whole thing in close-up.

Poppy, slightly put out at being so upstaged, took matters into her own hands when Chloe’s verse began. She reached into the back of her panties and pulled out a handful of shit, which she started smearing into her breasts. She went back for more, then more still, and was satisfied to see one of the wallscreens following her actions.

Emma felt a sudden pressure in her bowels. She hurriedly adjusted her position so she was squatting over Rosie’s chest, and then she let go. A brown rope of poo surged out of her anus and coiled up in a big pile, mostly on Rosie’s left breast. When she had finished she stood up, and Rosie began spreading the shit over her chest as she continued to lie at the front of the stage with a camera pointing at her pussy.

As the song came to an end, Emma shouted, “Somebody catch me!” Then she tossed her microphone aside, ran up to the front of the stage, and jumped full length into the audience. A dozen pairs of hands buoyed her up, and she felt her breasts and pussy being fondled. She spread her legs wide, and felt fingers slide into her cunt. Then she found herself being lowered to the ground, and saw numerous trousers dropping and penises being pulled out of underwear. Seconds later, she was being fucked.

On stage, the other girls looked in concern at the spot where Emma had landed, but they could not see her through the press of bodies. “Thank you very much!” said Chloe. “We’re Denimania – we hope you enjoyed the show.”

Four cocks had been inside Emma by the time the bouncers reached her. They picked her up and carried her to the stage, where she ran off after her fellow bandmembers. In their dressing room, Val and Ozzie were ecstatic. “That was incredible!” said Val. “You’ll probably get me into a ton of trouble, but the publicity this will bring … wow! You girls have a promising future in front of you!”

The girls whooped and high-fived each other. Val turned to Poppy. “Can you make the panty-pooping a regular part of your act?” he asked. “I mean, can you poop on queue?”

Poppy shrugged. “Not really – it comes very suddenly.” Then she smiled. “But I bet I can time it to occur at some point during a concert.”

“Perfect – do that,” said Val. Then he frowned. “What’s this about you getting married?”

“It’s true,” said Emma. “Poppy and I are getting married this weekend. It’s all arranged. Hey, that’s right – I guess we never invited you. Well consider yourself invited – you and Ozzie.”

“But … you’re sisters. I mean, is it legal?”

Poppy nodded. “It is. We have the marriage licence to prove it. Rosie and Chloe are going to be our bridesmaids.”

Emma got to her feet. “Can I talk to you for a second, Val?” she said.

“Sure,” said Val. He followed Emma outside into the corridor. “What’s up?” he asked.

“Um,” said Emma awkwardly. “How do you feel about the issue of … pregnancy,” she said.

“How do I feel?” asked Val, puzzled. “Why – are you pregnant?”

Emma nodded. “Yes – and so is Poppy. Is that going to be a problem? For the band, I mean.”

“Congratulations!” said Val. “No, I don’t think it’s going to be a problem.” He smiled. “In fact, it could work to our advantage. To have you singing about remaining pure and chaste while sporting a heavily pregnant belly – that would be a beautiful irony.”

Emma smiled, then on an impulse she hugged him. “Thanks Val,” she said.

“So – who’s the lucky father?” asked Val.

Emma shrugged. “I have no idea,” she said.

Val laughed. “Wow, Emma, you know, when I met you I had no idea you were such a … I mean, that you were so…”

“Such a slut?” suggested Emma with a smile. “Neither did I, actually. But I suppose I am. Shall we go back inside and continue celebrating?”

In the dressing room, the others were already drinking champagne. As they clinked glasses and toasted to the future of Denimania, Marge came in with a bag full of clothes.

“What a show!” she said. “You girls are the sexiest!”

“Thanks,” said Emma.

“What’s in the bag?” asked Poppy.

Marge smiled. “Just some ideas for outfits that I’ve been working on,” she said. She reached into her bag and pulled out a little pair of denim panties. “Try these on.”

Emma took the panties and pulled them on. The triangle of material at the front was very narrow, and so tight that she could not prevent it from slipping between her pussy lips. The panties were also so incredibly low-rise that if she had had any pubic hair, much of it would have been visible above the top of the triangle. Narrow bands of denim ran around her hips, connecting the front triangle to a larger triangle at the back, which did not rise high enough to cover her buttock cleavage, and was certainly not capacious enough to hold a full load of shit.

“I know what you’re thinking,” said Marge. “Those won’t hold much shit. But what I’m thinking is: costume changes. You take a dump in your white incontinence panties, you play with it for a while or whatever, then later in the set you change into a different outfit, one which includes these panties.”

“Nice idea!” said Emma. “I like these panties. What else have you got?”

Marge gave her a denim bra to try on. It was far too small for Emma – her breasts were spilling out of it all over the place, and when she finally achieved an equilibrium, her nipples were peeping over the top. “Nice!” she said. “What else?”

Next Marge gave her a pair of shorts, which was actually just a belt of denim that sat around her hips, while a thin denim string ran from the front to the back between her legs. She pulled her labia apart to let the string settle against her clitoris, and when she let go, her pussy lips almost closed together over the top of the string.

“God, I love how denim looks on you, Emma,” said Marge, staring unabashedly at Emma’s pussy. “How does it feel?”

“I love it,” said Emma with a smile. “You’ve outdone yourself. How are our wedding outfits coming?”

“Oh, they’re done,” said Marge. “I’ll bring them around to your house tomorrow if you like.”

“Thanks,” said Emma. “I can’t wait!”

******************

It was an odd sort of wedding, with no groom at the front of the church to watch his bride walk down the aisle. Of course, lesbian couples had been doing this for years, but this was Emma and Poppy’s first experience of a same-sex wedding. Their own church had refused to marry them – the congregation they had grown up with quickly grew tired of their (and Lara’s) panty-pooping and barely-there dresses, and now all three of them were persona non grata.

Their new church was much more liberal, with a young male vicar who was very keen to move with the times and actively encouraged the young women of his congregation to dress as skimpily as they wanted. He was even tolerant of the panty-pooping. And it was he, Harry Penfold, who was to marry Emma and Poppy today.

As the organ struck up with ‘Here Comes the Bride’, the two girls started to slowly walk down the aisle towards the front of the church. They had been made up by professionals, and both looked stunningly beautiful. Their white dresses were lavishly detailed, fitted to perfection, and stopped halfway down their white incontinence panties. Poppy’s dress was extremely low-cut, so that her areolas were just showing, but not her nipples. Emma’s dress had a higher neckline, but the material between the neckline and the dress’s high waist was gauzy and transparent. Her breasts bounced behind their see-through veil with every step, her nipples clearly visible. Both girls wore white hold-up stockings with frilly tops, and pretty white shoes with four-inch heels.

Their bridesmaids were Chloe and Rosie from the band, and Lottie and Helen from school. All four were wearing identical denim dresses, as well as denim bras and denim panties. The dresses were slightly longer than those of the brides, exposing just two-and-a-half inches of their buttocks at the back, and one inch of their denim panties at the front. These panties were less skimpily cut than the ones Emma had tried on after the concert – they were made of stretch-denim and designed to hold a load of shit – or most of one, anyway.

This was fortunate, because halfway down the aisle, Rosie squeaked in alarm as a huge quantity of shit poured out of her rectum and into her denim panties. Chloe, walking beside her chuckled and shook her head. Then, because she did not want Rosie to feel alone in her embarrassment, she strained for a moment, then her own anus opened up and she filled her panties to capacity with a cantaloupe-sized quantity of soft shit.

Lottie and Helen stared in surprise at the two pairs of bulging panties in front of them, from the sides of which shit was oozing and dropping down on to the floor. They looked at each other quizzically, then Lottie shrugged and pushed, filling her own panties. Not wanting to feel left out, Helen did the same, then she quivered and almost stumbled as a delicious orgasm suffused her loins.

Emma glanced this way and that as she walked happily down the aisle. There was Val, and there were Marge and Ozzie – all smiling encouragingly. There was Steven, and Viking, and a bunch of the other boys who had raped her. They were all staring lasciviously at her breasts and panties. Then there were several of her friends from school, smiling at her and clapping excitedly. She knew that some of them were a little shocked that she was marrying her sister, but they all loved weddings, and they all thought she looked gorgeous. Finally, at the front she saw her parents, smiling and waving at the two of them. Lara was wearing a beautiful pale yellow dress of Marge’s creation – knee-length, but see-through, with see-through panties and a see-through bra underneath.

Arriving at the front of the church, Emma and Poppy pulled back their veils and smiled happily at each other. The vicar smiled at both of them, then addressed the congregation. “Friends! We are gathered here today…”

And so he went on. As he spoke, Emma’s bowels suddenly demanded an urgent expulsion, and she gasped as a torrent of shit poured into her panties. Poppy giggled, then she concentrated for a moment, then smiled as she filled her own panties. Some of her shit was forced along her gusset, and she moaned and shuddered in orgasm as it caressed her clitoris.

The vicar pretended not to notice this, and continued with his spiel. As he talked them through their vows, the girls looked into each other’s shining eyes as they spoke of their love for each other. Then each placed a wedding ring on the other’s finger, and the vicar said, “I now pronounce you wife and wife. You may kiss.”

The girls embraced, and locked their lips together in a deep kiss as the congregation cheered and clapped. Emma reached down and massaged the bulge in Poppy’s panties, causing her younger sister to gasp and moan in fresh orgasms. Their tongues excitedly explored each other, as Poppy started squeezing Emma’s panty-bulge. Both girls were climaxing now, moaning and screaming with pleasure. Poppy now pulled down the upper part of Emma’s dress, fully exposing Emma’s breasts, and Emma hurriedly pulled her arms out of it.

The vicar laughed, a little nervously. “Save something for the honeymoon!” he said. The congregation laughed with him.

Poppy, sucking on Emma’s right nipple, reached her hands into the back of Emma’s panties, drawing out two handfuls of shit, which she then slapped on to Emma’s breasts. She rubbed it in with one hand, while with the other she rubbed Emma’s pussy through her panties.

“I say, steady on!” said the vicar in alarm.

Rosie was massaging the bulge in her own panties as she stared lustfully at the two brides. Then she threw her arms around a surprised Chloe, and kissed her full on the lips. Chloe closed her eyes and responded, and then moaned ecstatically as Rosie squished her shit-filled panties.

Lottie and Helen, hardly able to believe their eyes, turned to look at each other. “Do you…” began Lottie.

“No! I’m not a lesbian,” said Helen emphatically.

“Neither am I,” said Lottie hurriedly.

The vicar squatted down and spoke urgently to Emma and Poppy, who were now on the floor, their limbs entwined and their hands in each other’s panties. Their beautiful white dresses were covered in streaks of shit and bunched around their waists. “You need to come and sign the register!” he hissed at them. He looked up at the bridesmaids. “Here – can you help me with them?”

Rosie and Chloe broke off from their clinch, then they both stooped down and helped the distressed vicar separate the messy brides. Dishevelled and panting, Emma and Poppy got to their feet. “Sorry!” said Emma. “We got a little carried away.” She looked down at her ruined dress, sighed, then pulled it down over her hips and stepped out of it, leaving her in just her panties, stockings and shoes.

Poppy now stripped off her own dress. She smiled at Emma. “Okay, let’s go and sign this thing.”

Hand in shit-caked hand, the two girls went into the vestry with the vicar, the bridesmaids, and their parents. In the main body of the church, the congregation erupted into whispered conversation.

“Have you ever seen a wedding like this?” Val murmured to Marge.

“No,” said Marge, “but I can’t say I’m surprised, knowing those two.”

“Nor me,” said Val. “They’re quite the couple. I can’t wait to see what the reception will be like.”

Marge laughed. “Well, they’re singing aren’t they? I imagine it will be rather like one of their concerts…”

“God help us!” said Val, chuckling.


THE END

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