Little Shit: Ten Years Later

by Arthur Saxon
arthursaxon@zombieworld.com
Heather Harcourt was in a good mood as she walked into Waterstones bookshop in search of a travel book. Her upcoming wedding was all planned out, down to the last detail, but there was still some preparation to be done for the honeymoon in the Seychelles. She was keen to know exactly what kinds of entertainments the islands afforded, and what sorts of bugs she should expect, and how much various things cost, and where all the most interesting places were, and what the local culture was all about. She had already had all the requisite shots.

At twenty-seven years of age, Heather was something of a control freak. She liked to have everything just so, a trait that had proved useful in her career as an environmental consultant to the manufacturing industry. Her meticulous eye and attention to detail meant that she had left in her wake many a company that was now in rigid compliance with the latest ISO accreditation requirements.

She picked up a book called “A Traveller’s Guide to the Seychelles”, and thumbed through it. Yes, this would do. Comprehensive yet readable, with some nice glossy photographs.

“Uh … Heather?”

Heather looked up to see a short, stocky young woman looking at her. She frowned a little – the girl was dressed scruffily in a West Ham football shirt and ripped jeans, and she had a metal stud in one eyebrow, and another in the side of her nose. Her hair was short and spiky, she was rather overweight, and she looked about twenty years old.

“Do I know you?” asked Heather politely.

“Uh, yeah – or you used to,” said the girl. “I’m Liz Patterson – you used to date my brother Ron?”

A torrent of unpleasant memories flooded into Heather’s mind, and she gulped. “Good heavens – yes, yes I recognise you now. My, you’re all grown up, look at you. Wow – it’s been a long time.”

Liz nodded. “Nine years, or thereabouts,” she said. “How have you been?”

“Fine, fine,” said Heather, a little stiffly, then she added, “Thank you. And you?”

“Fine thanks,” said Liz. “Hey, do you want to grab a cup of tea? Or coffee? It would be nice to catch up with each other.”

Heather immediately thought to herself that she would almost rather slit her own wrists than sit and chat with this little monster, but she merely said diplomatically, “I’m a little pressed for time, actually – I’m giving a talk this afternoon at a conference in Earl’s Court.”

Liz looked at her watch. “Well that’s not far away. What time’s your conference?”

“Two-thirty,” said Heather, before it occurred to her to lie.

“You’ve got plenty of time. Come on – it’ll be fun. Aren’t you at all curious about how Ron’s been doing?”

In truth, Heather was indeed curious about Ron. It had been nine years since she had broken up with him, and although she had been highly relieved at the time, she had on occasion missed his cheeky grin … and those eyes… Less and less these days, of course, but still…

“All right,” she said. “Just for a few minutes.”

Liz knew of a nice local coffee shop, and so Heather soon found herself sitting down opposite the girl who had once made her life such a misery.

“So how is Ron?” she asked.

“He won the national lottery,” said Liz. “Six and a half million pounds.”

“You’re joking!” exclaimed Heather.

“Nope – God’s truth,” said Liz. “Four years ago. And to his credit he’s still got most of it – bought himself a flash car and a big house in Surrey, but he’s doing pretty well on the stock market and he has a decent job as a car salesman.”

“Wow, that’s really … cool,” said Heather slowly. If she’d just stuck with the guy… But that was a silly line of thought. She was perfectly happy with Jonathan, who, though not a millionaire (yet), was a respectable and successful businessman with a very nice house in Kent. “So … is he married?”

“He’s on his second,” said Liz. “The first one ran off with a dentist – two months before he won the lottery. Afterwards she came crawling back, but he wouldn’t have her of course.”

Heather chuckled. “Good for him.”

“His new wife’s very sweet – we all thought she was a gold-digger at first but she’s very good for him. Name’s Kim – pretty girl, kind of waifish – and only twenty-two.”

Heather nodded. “And what are you doing these days?” she asked.

“Film school,” said Liz. “The Met – based at the Ealing studios.”

“You’re going to be a film director?” asked Heather, intrigued.

“Nah – that’s too much like hard work,” said Liz. “I’m strictly into cinematography. I am working on a short film though, as part of my course. But anyway – tell me about you. What have you been up to for the last nine years? I recall you were going to be a chemist…”

Heather shook her head. “Well I started out studying chemistry at uni, but then it turned into chemistry and law, and then somehow I got into environmental sciences, and when I finally graduated I had a degree in Business Studies and Environmental Management. Now I teach businesses how to improve their environmental performance while saving money at the same time – well I don’t want to bore you, but basically I give talks and visit businesses and study them and write up reports and then work with them to get them accredited with the international environmental standards.”

“And that’s what you’re doing today?” asked Liz.

Heather nodded.

“Cool,” said Liz. “So do you work for yourself, or are you part of a company…?”

“Oh, it’s a company – Portsmouth Environmental Solutions. I have an office just near here but I’m hardly ever there, it seems. Always on the move!” She laughed.

“And are you married?” inquired Liz.

Heather smiled. “Soon!” she said. “On Saturday, actually. To a very handsome financial analyst named Jonathan.”

“Cool,” said Liz again. “And … do you still take dumps in your knickers?”

Heather’s cheeks burned. “Hush!” she said. “Good grief – you think I want to talk about that?”

Liz shrugged. “Why not? As far as I recall, you got to like doing it. And jeez – you don’t need to worry about me getting all judgmental about it. I’m just curious. If you recall, it was quite a big part of our relationship.”

“I recall! Of course I recall that,” said Heather irritably. “I still have nightmares about it.”

“Oh come on,” said Liz. “You enjoyed it!”

“Well I certainly don’t now,” said Heather firmly. “And I haven’t done … that … for a long time.”

“Why not?” asked Liz.

Heather ground her teeth a little, then said, “It was just a phase, I suppose.”

“Hmm,” said Liz. “Let me guess – you gave it up when you met Jonathan? Afraid he wouldn’t understand?”

This was so close to the mark that Heather’s jaw worked silently for a couple of seconds before she said, “I was quite happy to give it up – it was a rather disgusting habit, after all.”

Liz got up from her seat and came around to Heather’s side of the table. “Scoot over,” she said, sitting down next to Heather.

“Why?” asked Heather nervously, shifting along her seat towards the wall.

“I figure if we’re going to talk about stuff like this, we’d probably better not talk loudly across the table,” said Liz.

“I’d rather we didn’t talk about it at all!” said Heather. She felt quite trapped by Liz’s hefty frame, which filled almost the entire space between the back of the seat and the table. She quickly decided to change the subject. “What about you – are you in a relationship?”

“Just came out of one,” said Liz. “We had a big fight, and now she won’t even talk to me.”

“She?” asked Heather in surprise.

Liz chuckled. “What, the butch dyke look didn’t give you a clue?”

“Oh, but it never occurred … I mean, you seemed quite…”

“I seemed straight? At age ten?” inquired Liz in amusement. “Well, I suppose I may have been heading for bisexuality at that point, although you’ll remember of course how interested I was in you.”

“And … you’re not bisexual?” asked Heather. She felt uncomfortable with this subject, but she had never really known a ‘butch dyke’ before and was curious, despite herself.

Liz shook her head. “I had a rough time in high school,” she said. “As I got older, I got less cute, and more fat. The boys picked on me a lot. And when I was fifteen, I got raped.”

Heather gasped. “Oh my God!” she exclaimed. “I’m so sorry!”

Liz shrugged. “Like I said, it was a rough time. But I’m over that now. I just don’t have any sexual interest in men any more.”

“Well, I suppose I can’t blame you,” said Heather. “How awful. Did the boy go to prison?”

“I never reported it,” said Liz. “I couldn’t face it.”

Heather’s eyes widened. “So … he got away with it?”

Liz smirked. “I wouldn’t say that exactly. I set fire to his house.”

Heather’s jaw practically dropped out of its socket. “You what?” she gasped. “And what happened?”

“Well the fire brigade managed to put it out before it spread too far,” said Liz, “but his room was pretty much gutted. They never found out it was me. I think Jim suspected – that was his name, Jim – but I suppose he never accused me because he thought I would tell the police about the rape.”

“Wow,” said Heather. “That’s pretty … I mean, what an awful time that must have been for you…”

Liz shrugged. “I’d rather not talk about it. I’d much rather reminisce about happier times – such as when you and I used to hang out together.”

Heather shuddered. “Please don’t – I’m still traumatised!”

“Oh come on,” said Liz, chuckling. “I know you had fun too. Admit it – you liked being made to do all those things – things you wouldn’t have had the courage to do otherwise.”

“No! It was horrible!” said Heather emphatically. “I didn’t enjoy it at all.”

Liz grinned slyly. “I think you did,” she said. “And I think I can prove it.” She reached into her bag and took out her mobile phone. “Let’s see now…” She flipped it open and started pressing buttons.

“What are you doing?” asked Heather nervously.

“I kept all those pictures,” said Liz. “I’m accessing my photo library right now – I’m going to prove to you that you enjoyed yourself.”

“Really – there’s no need to refresh my memory of those events!” said Heather.

But Liz kept on pressing buttons until finally she said, “Aha!” She showed Heather a photo which brought back unpleasantly sharp memories.

“Oh, that’s gross!” said Heather, recoiling.

“But look at your face!” insisted Liz. “You were having a whale of a time!”

“I don’t know how you can see that,” said Heather. “My face is so small in the photo…”

“Then I’ll zoom in,” said Liz. “There – look!”

Heather looked. And if she was honest, she did look as if she was having fun, smearing poo all over her breasts while Ron fucked her with two shit-covered fingers. But she did not like to admit this to Liz. “You told me to smile for the camera,” she said rebelliously. “You insisted on it!”

Liz snorted. “Sometimes I asked you to smile,” she said. “Other times, like this time, you were smiling completely of your own volition. You can’t fake an expression like that, Heather! I can enlarge it still further if you still need convincing. In fact…” She suddenly grinned wickedly. “I have a new toy,” she said. “Let me show it to you.” She delved into her bag again, and pulled out a little wedge-shaped gadget. She plugged it into her phone by means of a short cable, set it down on the table top, and pressed a red button.

Heather gasped as the photo suddenly appeared on the cream-coloured wall next to her, magnified to nearly twelve inches across. “What the hell!” she exclaimed. “Switch that off!”

Liz laughed at Heather’s anxiety, and pressed the red button again. The photo vanished. “Ever seen a projector this small?” she asked. “A lot of the film students have them, though mine’s especially neat. I’m lucky to have a rich brother.”

“Yes, I’m sure, but you can’t just project photos like that all over the place!” said Heather.

“I don’t know,” said Liz carelessly, “I think it might be kind of fun.” She looked down the aisle towards the far wall of the shop. “It would show up nice and big on that wall, don’t you think?” She moved the projector to the edge of the table and pointed it down the aisle. Her finger moved to the red button…

“No!” cried Heather in a strangled whisper. “Are you mad? Why would you do that?”

“I’d forgotten how much I enjoy seeing you squirm,” said Liz, grinning. “Heather, I’m going to do you a favour. I’m going to remind you how much fun you used to have, because clearly you’ve forgotten.”

“Don’t!” exclaimed Heather fiercely. “Please don’t put any of those photos on the wall! I admit it – I had fun sometimes!”

Liz smiled. “Now you’re just saying that to stop me projecting your photos on to the wall,” she said. “I think you need a little more convincing.”

Heather stared at the wall in a panic, trying to think up some new argument that would persuade Liz not to hit that red button.

“I want you to do a poo in your panties,” said Liz.

“What?” asked Heather incredulously.

“Like you did years ago – and hundreds of times, I might add. Often in public places. Come on – I’m sure it’s like riding a bike … you never really forget how.”

“I can remember how to poop in my panties,” hissed Heather. “That’s not the point! I’m certainly not about to do it here, and now!”

“All right then,” said Liz, her finger moving to the red button.

“Wait!” said Heather desperately. “There must be something else I can do instead! Something less drastic?”

Liz thought for a moment. “No,” she said. “No, I think I’d really like to see you take a dump in your panties.”

“But I went to the bathroom this morning!” said Heather suddenly. “There won’t be anything left!”

“If that were true,” said Liz, “that would have been your first objection. Nice try.”

“What if we go to the toilet, here,” said Heather urgently. “I’ll do it in my panties for you in one of the cubicles.”

“Nope,” said Liz. “I want you to do it here.”

“Damnit Liz, have some pity!” said Heather, on the verge of tears. “You haven’t changed a bit, have you? Why do you so delight in being horrible to me?”

“Hey,” said Liz, a little annoyed. “I’m not being horrible. As I said, I’m doing you a favour. If you want me to get nasty … well, I still have the photos from the trip to Brighton…”

“Brighton…” repeated Heather, the colour draining from her face. “Oh no…”

“Oh yes,” said Liz. “Seventy-six lovely glossy colour photos from your adventures in Brighton. They’d look just fantastic up on that wall, wouldn’t you say…?”

“I’ll do it,” said Heather heavily, her shoulders slumping in defeat. She smiled weakly. “Just this once, all right? For old times’ sake.”

“Good girl,” said Liz, smiling warmly. “I knew you’d come around.”

Then Heather bit her lip. “I can’t afford to get my skirt messy, though – I won’t have time to go home and change, and I’ve got this presentation at two-thirty…”

“Then take off your skirt first,” said Liz. “Crumbs – it’s not like anyone can see past me, right?”

Heather looked around the coffee shop uneasily. Liz was right – nobody would be able to see whether she was wearing a skirt or not unless they came right over to her table. With a sigh, she unzipped the side of her skirt, lifted her bottom off the seat just enough, and then she tugged the skirt down over her hips. Pulling it down her thighs to her knees, and then down to her ankles, she lifted her feet off the floor, one after the other, and finally reached down and grabbed the garment quickly.

“Here – I’ll look after it,” said Liz, holding out her hand.

“That’s not necessary, I can put it right here beside me,” said Heather.

Liz raised an eyebrow. “You don’t want to risk getting it messy, now do you?” she said. “Come on – I’ll give it back to you as soon as you get clean enough to put it back on, okay?”

Heather reluctantly handed over her skirt, and Liz tucked it into her bag.

“You might as well give me the jacket, too,” said Liz. “It’s a very nice suit – it would be a shame to keep the skirt clean, only to muck up the jacket.”

Heather scowled. “I’ll take that chance,” she said.

Liz shrugged. “Suit yourself,” she said. Then she giggled. “Suit yourself. No pun intended!”

Heather was in no mood for such humour. “Let’s just get this over with,” she said.

Liz nodded. “All right,” she said. “Go ahead.”

Heather placed her hands on the cushion either side of her hips, and pushed down so that her bottom was raised slightly off the seat. Then she strained. She was determined to do the smallest amount of poo possible, so that she would have fulfilled Liz’s request and yet not have a major clean-up to perform. She felt her anus dilate, and dilate some more, and she realised with a sinking feeling that a fairly large poo was waiting to come out. This was going to be uncomfortable.

She grimaced, and pushed harder. The tip of her poo emerged, and she kept pushing, feeling her anal muscle expand to an almost painful width. Then, with a grunt of effort, she managed to force the widest part of the poo through her anus, and she let out a sharp exhalation as three or four inches of very thick turd slid out of her rectum and into the back of her panties.

“Keep going,” urged Liz.

Heather did not want to keep going, but she felt very uncomfortable at the moment, and felt a desperate urge to expel the monster that was lodged half in and half out of her rectum. She tugged her panties down a little, and started pushing again. Six more inches emerged, and then she sat down, squishing the whole turd into a thick pancake which nestled between her buttocks and spread out and forward a few inches.

“Just a little more,” she muttered, lifting her bottom off the seat again.

“You might as well get rid of it all,” said Liz matter-of-factly. “No point in half measures, really, is there?”

“Easy for you to say,” said Heather in annoyance, but she closed her eyes in concentration as she pushed again, attempting to force another large lump through her sphincter and into her panties. After almost a minute’s eye-watering effort, she managed to push it out, and panted heavily while a narrower, softer column of poo slithered out, oozing around her buttocks and forwards along her gusset.

So much for doing just a little bit, she thought to herself. Well, Liz was right – there was little point in being half-hearted about it now. She continued to push, and another large lump (though thankfully not as large as the earlier one had been) popped out into her heavily loaded panties. This was followed by three smaller, softer lumps, and then a long rope of squishy poo which padded her panties out into a nicely rounded bulge.

“All right,” she said, breathing heavily. “I’m done.” In fact she was not quite done, but she was feeling more comfortable now and saw no point in adding to the already enormous quantity in her panties.

“Very impressive!” said Liz with a smile. “And how did it feel?”

“Humiliating, of course,” replied Heather. “Now would you let me out so that I can run to the toilet and clean up?”

“Oh no,” said Liz, shaking her head. “I wouldn’t dream of making you clean up here. You can come back to my flat and clean up. It’s not far – I’ll drive you.”

Heather blinked. “And how do you suggest I get to your car?” she inquired.

“I’ll go and fetch it,” said Liz. “It’s in the multi-storey just down the road. There’s no parking outside here, but if you come out in five minutes, I’ll pick you up on the way past.”

“You want me to walk out of this shop looking like this?” asked Heather.

“Yup,” said Liz. “If you’re not there waiting, I’ll assume I was too quick, and I’ll circle the block and come back round. If you’re still not there, I’ll go around again. If you’re not there after the third pass, I’ll just go home myself, and you’ll have lost your skirt.”

Heather sighed. “Five minutes from when?”

Liz looked at her watch. “From … now.” She shuffled to the edge of the seat and got to her feet. “And don’t even think about emptying your panties in the meantime. If I don’t see a nice big load in your knickers when I drive past, I’ll just keep going and you’ll have to find your way home without a skirt.”

“Can you leave your bag there please?” asked Heather. “Otherwise people will be able to see I’m not wearing a skirt.”

“They’ll see that soon enough,” said Liz, “when you get up to leave. Sorry Heather – the bag goes with me.” And with that she walked to the front of the shop, and left.

Heather’s insides were tying themselves in knots. She tried not to look as if she was nervous, and she tried not to look around at the other customers, or the staff behind the counter, but it was hard not to imagine that they were all staring at her and commenting to each other how disgusting she was. There had been nobody in the booth directly behind her when she sat down, but what if someone was there now? What if they could smell her poo, and were even now reporting her to the staff?

Trying to take her mind off her predicament, she wiggled her bottom into her poo. This, at least, was quite pleasant – she had almost forgotten how nice it felt to have a full load of poo in her panties, and to feel it rubbing against her buttocks and pussy. As she wiggled, some of the poo worked its way in between her labia, and began to squish around her clitoris … which was very nice indeed.

She looked at her watch. Only one minute had passed! It had felt like at least three. She was dreading getting up and leaving the shop – that had always been the worst part for her, the public humiliation. She had hated the crude comments, the laughter, the angry abuse, the taunting, the looks of disgust … yet the more distraught she became, the more Lizzie had loved it. And Ron had been no use at all – he claimed not to enjoy her misery, but she suspected he had a secret sadistic streak that prevented him from standing up for her more often.

“Excuse me, Miss, wouldn’t you like to use the bathroom?”

Heather looked up quickly, whipping her hand out from between her legs. “Um, yes,” she said, her cheeks turning bright red as she saw the disgusted expression of a man who held a broom and dustpan in his hands. “I do seem to have had a bit of an accident.” She looked at her watch. Two and a half minutes. Well, Liz had not said she couldn’t go to the bathroom – just that she couldn’t empty her panties out. It would at least be a good place to hide for a couple of minutes.

She got up, stickily, and shuffled towards the toilets. Once inside the ladies’, she locked the door and waited, glancing at her watch every few seconds. When four and a half minutes had elapsed since Liz had said ‘now’, Heather opened the door and hurried to the front of the shop.

“Hey,” said the man with the broom and dustpan. “Didn’t I tell you…”

But she was soon past him and well on her way to the front door. Opening it, she stepped outside, and hurried to the kerb, hoping to see Liz’s face in one of the approaching cars. Silly – she had not thought to ask what kind of car Liz had. Not that it mattered – Liz would see her long before she saw Liz. What a sight she must look, with her blouse only coming halfway down her bulging panties, and her jacket even shorter than that.

“Oh my God!” came a woman’s voice from behind her.

Heather ignored it, but her stomach tensed more and more with each comment that she heard. And then a man actually came around in front of her, his expression one of contempt and disgust, and she could not ignore him.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he demanded.

“None of your business,” muttered Heather.

“But you can’t just stand on the street like that!” said the man. “You’ll get arrested!”

“A friend’s picking me up in…” Heather glanced at her watch. “Just a few seconds. So if you don’t mind…”

“Why aren’t you wearing anything on your bottom half?” yelled the man. “What’s your problem?”

“Leave me alone!” said Heather, getting upset. “My friend will be here any moment. Just please go away!”

The man stared at her for a few seconds, then he shook his head in disgust and walked away. Heather turned back to the road and looked desperately for Liz, but each car that came contained someone else. She looked at her watch – six minutes had passed. Where on Earth was Liz?

Stress gnawing at her insides, she turned to see if there were many people watching her, and happened to spot her reflection in the window of the coffee shop. ‘My goodness!’ she thought to herself, ‘my panties are massively full!’ They were flattened somewhat, admittedly, from having been sat upon, but they were still bulging hugely, and the bulge was scarcely hidden by her blouse.

A couple of passing drivers hooted their horns at her, able only to see the front of her panties peeping below the bottom of her blouse. If they only knew what she looked like from the back, she mused, they might not be so thrilled.

Then she spied Liz, driving towards her in a dark green Volkswagen. She waved frantically, and the car pulled into the kerb just next to her. She tried the door handle, but it was locked. She looked in through the window at Liz, and saw that the young woman was filming her with her mobile phone!

“Open the door!” she cried desperately.

But Liz merely grinned, then she raised her finger and made a circling motion. Her meaning was clear. Heather sighed, and gave a slow twirl, so that Liz could film her bulging panties. If she twirled too quickly, she knew, Liz would only ask her to do it again more slowly, so it was important to get it right first time.

As she turned back to face the car, she saw Liz unlock the door, and with a huge sense of relief she opened it and climbed in. Settling herself into the passenger seat, she felt the poo squish comfortably around her bottom, and snugly cradle her pussy. “What kept you?” she demanded.

Liz shrugged. “It took longer than I’d thought. I’m only a couple of minutes late.”

Heather sighed. “All right – let’s get back to your place, then, so I can clean up.”

“Not just yet,” said Liz. “First we have to get you some other clothes for your presentation this afternoon.”

“What?” cried Heather. “My suit’s just fine, thanks!”

“It’s far too conservative,” said Liz. “You want a much shorter skirt, and a more revealing top.”

“I’m supposed to look conservative!” exclaimed Heather. “With a small ‘c’. If I look like a slut, nobody will pay any attention to what I’m saying!”

“You’ll just have to be extra-specially eloquent,” said Liz. “Anyway, I’m the one who’s driving, and I say we go to a clothes shop to get you some sexier clothes for your presentation.”

“Well I refuse,” said Heather obstinately. “You dominated me for nearly a year, and that was enough. You’ve had your fun today – now it’s time to stop. I’m not obeying any more of your instructions!”

“Fine,” said Liz. She pulled the car over to the side of the road. “Out you get, then.”

Heather was taken aback. Was Liz really going to let her go this easily? “Good!” she said. “May I have my skirt please?”

“Sure,” said Liz. “You’re sitting on it.”

Heather gasped, and immediately lifted her bottom off the seat. Reaching down, she pulled her skirt out from underneath her. “Oh my God!” she exclaimed. “There’s poo all over it!”

“You should have looked before sitting down,” said Liz. “It’s not my fault it’s the same colour as the upholstery.”

Heather realised that this was just a ploy on Liz’s part to get her to give in and go clothes shopping, but she was not going to let the younger woman get the better of her this time. “It doesn’t matter,” she said firmly. “I’ll clean it somehow, and get to my presentation on time, and that will be the end of it!”

“All right,” said Liz. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

Heather had the door open, and one foot on the pavement outside, when she stopped. “I doubt it. What do you mean?” she asked.

“I have some deliveries to make to Portsmouth Environmental Solutions,” said Liz. “Envelopes stuffed full of photos, for all of your colleagues and your boss.”

“You wouldn’t!” exclaimed Heather.

“Why wouldn’t I?” said Liz with a shrug. “It’ll be such fun to see your face when all those envelopes are opened, and one by one everyone starts looking at you, in mounting disgust and horror…”

Heather squeaked in alarm. “No!” she said. “Don’t do that! You’ll get me sacked!”

“I don’t care if you get sacked,” said Liz. “We could find you another job. Something more suitable. A cocktail waitress, perhaps…”

Heather put her head in her hands and groaned in misery.

“On the other hand,” continued Liz, “you could come shopping with me, and wear a nice sexy outfit to your presentation, and I won’t have to stuff any envelopes with photos of Heather Harcourt in Brighton doing nasty deeds with…”

“All right all right!” snapped Heather. “I’ll do it – there’s no need to keep bringing up Brighton. I’d rather not have to think about that awful day.” She pulled her leg back into the car and closed the door.

“Good girl,” said Liz with a smile.

She drove them to a nearby Marks and Spencer, and pulled into the car park. “You can come in if you want to have a say in what I buy,” said Liz, “but I don’t mind if you’d rather wait out here.”

This sounded like a choice, but of course it wasn’t really. Even if Heather managed to clean herself up in the car, her skirt and panties were too messy to wear, and she had nothing else to wear on her bottom half. “I suppose I’ll wait out here,” she said.

Liz grinned, and said, “What are your measurements?”

“I’m a size eight,” said Heather.

“Bra size?”

“32C.”

Liz got out of the car. “Back soon!” she said.

Heather waited and watched the time, getting more and more nervous as the minutes ticked by. It was twenty-five minutes before Liz returned with a plastic bag. As she got into the car, the first thing she took out was a box of tissues. “Climb into the back seat,” she said, “and take off your messy panties. Clean up with the tissues, and then I’ll give you your new clothes.”

As Heather carefully cleaned herself with the tissues, Liz filmed her constantly. “Nice to see you kept up with the shaving,” said the younger woman.

“I prefer it this way,” muttered Heather.

“And does Jonathan like it?” asked Liz.

“He tolerates it … because I insist on it actually,” admitted Heather. “He’s very straight-laced and he says it’s very kinky of me to shave … but fortunately it’s not too big a stumbling block for him.”

“Good for you,” said Liz.

Heather left her messy panties, still full of poo, on top of her now-messy skirt, then she climbed back into the front seat with her pussy and bottom naked and clean.

“First, a top,” said Liz, pulling out a little white top. “You’re going to have to take everything off your top half.”

Heather sighed, and removed her jacket and blouse. “The bra stays on,” she said firmly.

Liz regarded it critically. “No, it won’t do,” she said. “Take it off.”

Heather sulkily unclasped her bra, and removed it. Then she made a grab for the top, but Liz pulled it out of reach. “Give it here!” said Heather.

“Wait,” said Liz, watching a middle-aged man approach from further down the car park.

Heather watched the man with mounting horror. “But I’m naked!” she said, holding her arms over her breasts.

Liz looked over at her. “None of that,” she said. “Lean back and put your arms by your sides.”

Heather whimpered as she did so. She hoped the man would not look down at her through the car window as he passed. Unfortunately he did, and his eyes widened. Then he stopped, grinned, and clapped his hands appreciatively.

“Recline your seat,” said Liz.

“No!” said Heather, desperate to cover herself.

“Yes!” insisted Liz. “Come on, Heather – you’ve done worse stuff than this before.”

“I know!” said Heather. “But that was nine years ago!”

“So?” said Liz. “Go on – recline your seat.”

As the man watched, grinning and rubbing his crotch, Heather reclined her seat until she was lying almost horizontally.

“Spread your legs,” said Liz, “and masturbate.”

Heather did so, but she closed her eyes so that she could pretend nobody was watching. She stroked her clitoris, trying to derive some pleasure from this horrible situation.

“Wider,” said Liz. “Let him see you sliding your fingers in and out of your cunt.”

Heather obeyed, giving in totally to the fact that she was in no position to refuse Liz anything right now. She only hoped that the evil girl would not invite the man into the car.

As if she read Heather’s thoughts, Liz said, “You’re lucky it smells so bad in here – otherwise I’d ask him to come in and fuck you. Open your eyes and smile at him.”

Heather opened her eyes and met the man’s excited gaze. She smiled half-heartedly as she continued to finger-fuck herself. Five minutes later, however, the man tapped at his watch with an apologetic shrug, and walked away. Heather, sitting up, quickly grabbed the top from Liz and put it on. It was a struggle. “Damnit Liz,” she said, as she finally managed to pull it into place. “Did you get this from the kids’ section?”

“Yup,” said Liz. “Girls’ vests – eight to nine years old.”

“Well I hope you’ve got something for me to wear over the top of it!”

“Nope – that’s your top for the rest of the day,” said Liz. “Deal with it.”

“I’m so going to get the sack!” moaned Heather, staring down at her breasts, which were straining hard against the tight cotton. She could faintly see her nipples through the stretched material. “What else have you got?”

Liz pulled a skimpy white thong out of her bag.

“What a surprise,” said Heather, rolling her eyes, but she put them on immediately. “Hmm – not bad. Quite comfy actually – for a thong.”

“I also have some regular panties in here,” said Liz, “for later. And now, the piece de resistance.” She handed Heather a pretty pink crinkle look floral print skirt.

Heather looked at it dubiously. It, too, had obviously come from the children’s section of the shop. “And I’m supposed to wear this how exactly?”

“Just put it on,” said Liz. “The waistband is elasticated – it’ll fit.”

And it did – just. “Well, it’s tight,” said Heather, “but I suppose I can live with this length.”

“Except that I don’t want you wearing it around your hips,” said Liz. “Pull it up to your waist.”

“But it’s designed as a hipster skirt!” said Heather.

“But you said yourself that it’s tight,” said Liz. “It’ll feel more comfortable around your waist.”

Heather pulled it up to her middle. The hemline was now grazing her crotch. “I think my panties will be visible if I wear it this high!” she fretted.

Liz smiled. “Let’s hope so.”

They drove back to Heather’s apartment, where Heather picked up her equipment for the presentation, and checked herself anxiously in the mirror. Sure enough, a small but very obvious white triangle of her thong was showing at the front, and three or four inches of her buttocks were on display at the back. And when she looked at her chest, she realised with dismay that her nipples and areolas were even more visible than she had thought.

“There’s no way I can do the presentation in this outfit!” she exclaimed aloud. But she knew she had no choice. Even if her boss allowed her to call off the presentation, Liz would not let her back out.

Thus, forty minutes later, she found herself entering a room full of people, her pink skirt swishing about her hips and upper buttocks, and her nipples, rapidly hardening as a result of the air conditioning, making very noticeable bumps in her tight white top. Striding to the front of the room, and ignoring the gasps of astonishment from the gathered attendees, she set up her projector and delivered her presentation as if nothing was untoward. She did not mention her state of dress, and neither did anybody else – until the question and answer session at the end.

The first question: “Thank you for an excellent presentation, Miss Harcourt, but whatever possessed you to wear such an outfit for the occasion?”

“Mr Harrison,” said Heather, turning bright red but striving to maintain her composure, “there is a very good reason for my skimpy attire today, but unfortunately I’m not at liberty to divulge it. I hope that you will all take away from here the benefits that I have outlined of subscribing to our excellent program … and not the fact that I’m dressed like a slut. I know it will be difficult, but I have faith in all of you.” This was greeted with a ripple of amused laughter, and the subject was not brought up again.

Outside, she climbed into the car with Liz, who had sneaked into the presentation and watched from the back of the room.

“I’m impressed,” said Liz. “You did very well. Now take off your thong and put on your messy panties again. Put your other skirt under you so that you don’t mess up the seat.”

Heather sighed, and climbed into the back seat, where she removed her thong. Picking up her own panties, she grimaced in distaste at the sight of the huge and awful-smelling brown lump of squishy poo, which was spread out inside the entire back of the garment, and formed a long ridge extending part-way into the front of her panties. She gingerly stuck her legs through the holes, and then pulled the panties up her legs, pulling another face as the cold poo squished against her pussy and buttocks. Climbing forward into the front seat, she sat down with her smart skirt laid out beneath her, and said, “Well, I need to get home now. Thank you for a lovely day.”

Liz grinned. “It’s not over yet. I want you to...”

But at that moment Heather’s phone rang. She pulled it out of her handbag and looked at the display. “Uh-oh,” she said. She pressed a button. “Hello Giles.”

“What’s this I hear about you giving your presentation while dressed like a slut?”

Heather gulped. “It’s … a long story,” she said, not knowing how on earth she was going to tell it.

“Well you’d better get back here immediately and explain yourself!”

“Yes – all right Giles,” said Heather. “I’ll see you soon.” She hung up, and sighed.

“I suppose I’d better drive you to your office then,” said Liz.

Heather nodded. “Yes please.”

Knowing she would have to clean up before she saw Giles, Heather spent the journey grinding her pussy into her poo, and without even using her hands she almost managed to bring herself to orgasm. By the time they reached her office, she was extremely horny and very much wanted to climax.

“If I go in like this,” said Heather, “Giles will fire me.”

“Well,” said Liz, “you have two choices. Choice one: you go in there with your panties full of poo, but I’ll allow you to pull your skirt down to your hips so that at least the poo will be out of sight.”

“That’s no good,” said Heather. “Everyone will still be able to smell it. What’s choice two?”

“You clean up, but you keep your skirt at waist level,” said Liz. “In other words, show Giles exactly what you looked like when you were giving your presentation.”

“I suppose I’ll take that option,” said Heather unhappily. “I still think he’ll fire me though.”

“Just make sure you tell a good story,” said Liz.

Fifteen minutes later, therefore, Heather was explaining herself to a frowning Giles. “So my clothes were a mess, and all I had with me was the outfit I had picked up for my niece. It was scandalously revealing, of course, as you can see … but at least it didn’t smell.”

“Hmm,” said Giles. “Well I’m very disappointed in you, Heather, very disappointed. But since this is rather out of character for you, and since you are in all other ways a model employee, I’ll let it pass. But don’t let me hear about anything like this happening again!”

“I won’t – thank you Giles!” said Heather gratefully.

“You’d better get home,” said Giles, “before anyone else sees you like that.”

Heather hurried outside and back to Liz’s car, where Liz made her change back into her messy panties. Then they drove to Liz’s flat, where Heather had to walk through a lobby full of students before getting in a lift (also containing some of Liz’s fellow students) up to Liz’s floor.

“God that was embarrassing!” moaned Heather.

“Don’t worry,” said Liz with a smile. “You can go and take a shower now. Just put your messy panties in this bag. I’ll lend you a towel.”

Heather stripped off her clothes, put her poo-filled panties into the small polythene bag that Liz had given her, and then tried to wrap around herself the hand towel that Liz now offered. “I can’t even tie this around me!” she said.

Liz grinned. “You’ll just have to make do,” she said. “Here’s some body wash – now go on and have your shower.”

Heather scurried down the corridor with the towel wrapped around her waist, holding it together with her hands at her left hip. Her naked breasts bounced as she ran, but fortunately she did not meet anybody.

After a ten minute shower she returned to Liz’s room, leaving a trail of wet footprints, and heaved a sigh of relief as she shut the door behind her. But then she froze as she turned and saw three young men of Liz’s age staring at her and grinning. Two were sitting on Liz’s bed – a third was leaning against her desk.

“Oh my God!” exclaimed Heather, throwing an arm across her breasts.

“Relax, Heather,” said Liz with a grin. “These nice boys have come here to have sex with you.”

“What?” exclaimed Heather.

“Don’t look so shocked – it’s not like you haven’t done it before,” said Liz.

“But I’m getting married in four days!” said Heather.

“But you’re not married yet,” said Liz. “And Jonathan needn’t know.” She came over and whipped the towel out of Heather’s hands. “Come and lie down on the bed, Heather.”

“No!” said Heather in a panic. “I won’t do it!”

“Fine,” said Liz, shrugging. “Then leave. But I get to keep your clothes. And you can be sure that your boss and Jonathan will both be receiving some interesting photos and videos this afternoon. I got Jonathan’s email address from the address book in your bag…”

Heather shook her head sadly. “It’s too much!” she said.

“Like I said, you’ve done it before,” said Liz. “Remember Brighton?”

Heather morosely stepped over to Liz’s bed and climbed on to it. The two boys made room for her, grinning like Cheshire cats. As Heather lay down on her back, she suddenly thought of a new problem. “Oh no!” she said. “I’m not on the pill! You’ll have to wear condoms.”

Liz smiled. “No condoms,” she said. “Why aren’t you on the pill?”

“Jonathan wants a baby right away,” said Heather. “And he doesn’t believe in sex before marriage, so…”

“You’re kidding!” said Liz. “You haven’t slept with him?”

“Well we’ve slept together,” said Heather, “but we haven’t … you know.”

Liz laughed. “Priceless!” she said. “And do you think you’re ovulating at the moment?”

Heather bit her lip, and nodded.

“Excellent,” said Liz, pleased. “Now lie down and spread your legs.”

“But you can’t make me pregnant!” exclaimed Heather in distress.

“If you get pregnant,” said Liz, “just let Jonathan think it’s his.”

The first boy was pulling down his jeans as he climbed on top of Heather. “Hi,” he said. “I’m Wayne.”

Heather did not reply as she felt Wayne’s penis slide into her vagina. She had no desire to have sex with three strangers, but she knew she had no choice in the matter. Jonathan would not understand … but hopefully he would never find out.

Once Wayne had come inside her with a series of ecstatic groans, he pulled out, and Liz said, “Get a pillow under her bottom, Jason – I don’t want anything leaking out of her.”

So Heather’s pelvis was propped up with a pillow, and then Jason took his turn. “Ugh, sloppy!” he said, and her cunt made sloshing sounds as he fucked her.

“Can I fuck her arse?” asked Chris, the third boy.

Liz chuckled. “Yeah, good idea,” she said. “But don’t come – make sure you save it for her pussy.”

Jason rolled over with Heather until he was beneath her, and then Heather felt her anus being lubed up with baby oil. She grimaced in distaste, and then gasped as she felt Chris’s penis push through her sphincter. “Ow!” she said.

Being fucked by two penises at once was a new experience for Heather, but she was feeling far too abused to enjoy it. And seeing Liz’s grinning face, as the little brat filmed the whole thing, only served to remind Heather that this new degradation was also adding to the ammunition that Liz could use against her.

After just two minutes, Chris had to pull out. “I’m very close!” he said.

“Get Heather on her back again,” instructed Liz.

This was accomplished, and then finally Jason came inside her. As he pulled out, Chris eagerly stuck his penis into her gaping vagina, and was soon spurting his own load into her.

“God, she’s totally full of spunk now!” he observed. “And she’s leaking despite the pillow.”

“Get another pillow under her then!” said Liz. “And put back in what’s come out.”

Chris dutifully complied with these instructions, while Jason played with Heather’s breasts.

“Stay like that,” said Liz. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

She left the room, then returned five minutes later with a white rubbery disc in her hand. Heather knew what it was – a diaphragm. “Bit late for that!” she said.

Liz smiled. “It’s to hold the semen inside, not keep it out,” she said. She folded it loosely, then bent down and pushed it into Heather’s vagina. It sprang back to its former shape, and Liz carefully pushed it deeper and deeper, shepherding the semen towards Heather’s cervix. Satisfied, she withdrew her fingers. “I want you to keep that in place for twenty-four hours,” she instructed Heather. Then she smiled. “But I suppose it might be fun to help it stay in place.” She fetched the bag containing Heather’s messy panties, and carefully pulled the panties out.

“Ugh, gross!” said Chris, recoiling in disgust.

“Which one of you boys wants to stuff some of this shit into Heather’s cunt?” asked Liz.

All three boys shook their heads vigorously.

Liz sighed. “Oh well – I suppose you’ll have to do it yourself, Heather.”

Heather shuddered. “I hate doing this,” she muttered.

“Liar – you love it,” said Liz.

Heather said nothing as she took the panties from Liz, and pulled out a handful of poo. Fashioning it into a sausage-like shape, she slowly eased it into her vagina, tucking it as far inside as it would go. Then she went back for more. This time she ran out of room before she had pushed all of the poo inside her. Liz grabbed some parcel tape from her desk, wiped Heather’s pussy dry, and then applied the tape liberally, effectively sealing Heather’s poo-filled cunt.

“There,” said Liz. “Leave that tape in place until this time tomorrow. Then come by here and I’ll remove it for you. I’ll know if you’ve removed it yourself in the meantime, so don’t even think about it.”

Heather sat up. “And until then?”

Liz shrugged. “You’re free to do whatever you like. Oh – except that you should put those messy panties back on and wear your little skirt and top, at least until you get back to your own car.”

“And how am I to get there? You drove me here,” said Heather.

Liz smiled. “That’s your problem. But I think you should leave your suit here until you come back tomorrow.”

Heather sighed. She got up, put on the little top and the tiny pink skirt, pulling it all the way up to her waist (she knew without asking that Liz would not allow her to wear it around her hips). Then she stepped into her messy panties and pulled them up firmly. Picking up her bag from the floor, she turned to leave the room.

“Have a nice evening,” said Liz with a smile. The boys snickered.

Heather left the room and headed for the lift. She met nobody until she entered the lobby downstairs.

“Oh God! Look! That woman’s shit herself!”

“And she’s showing it off, too! What a nasty slut!”

Heather stopped in the middle of the lobby, shuddering as she listened to all of the crass and hurtful comments that the students were saying about her. Then, since she already had a bunch of poo in her panties, she decided that she might as well finish emptying her bowels. So she spread her feet apart a little, and pushed. Her anus opened up, and a firm, smooth column of poo slithered out into her panties. Rubbing at her clitoris with the fingers of her right hand, she continued to push as her panties billowed outwards from the expanding mass of poo within.

“God! She’s doing it right now!”

“Hey, bitch! Fuck off and do your nasty toilet stuff somewhere else!”

Heather pushed out the last few inches of poo, and then she waddled towards the door, her panties sagging heavily under the weight of the sticky mess nestling beneath and behind her buttocks. Pausing in the doorway, she rubbed rapidly at her clit until she was gasping and moaning in orgasm. Panting, she stumbled through the door – it closed behind her, cutting off the insulting comments.

Outside, it was starting to rain. Heather looked down at her nipples, already fairly visible as they strained against the thin material, and she sighed. Her car was five miles away. This was going to be a long walk…


THE END


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