Bad Girls

By MichaelD38

IMPORTANT LEGAL INFORMATION

This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real persons is unintentional and strictly coincidental. This work contains explicit descriptions of sexual activity, and anyone offended by such things should read no further. If reception of this work is illegal due to your age or other repressive local regulations, liability for downloading it is your problem, not mine. This work is intended solely for the quiet and private enjoyment of adults, and any other use is a violation of the copyright.

This work is Copyright 1998 by MichaelD38@aol.com and is protected by United States and other international copyright law. Reposting and archiving is permitted, except where a fee of any sort is required or earned for access, provided this disclaimer and note remain attached to the story. All other rights, specifically rights of commercial use, are reserved. Commercial use here is defined to include posting on membership web sites, banner-funded web sites, and those protected by fee-based age validation methods (such as Adultcheck and Adultsights). However, exception is specifically made for web sites (such as DejaNews) that provide archiving and access to all Usenet posts in a particular group without editing or selection for content. No modifications may be made to this story without express permission from the author. Any questions regarding use of this work can be directed to the address above. Failure to contact the author prior to use is presumptive evidence of bad faith and may expose you to significant criminal and civil liability.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

Despite the header, this is not quite a "new" story. It is a rather offbeat work that bears little resemblance to my other pieces, and there's a reason for that. It was actually a collaborative work that I wrote a while back with someone who must remain nameless. We got together after this person posted a request for a certain type of story in a.s.s.d. Intrigued by the fetish at issue, I responded, and the two of us produced this little tale in about a week. I was in the midst of writing "Summer Camp II" at the time, and as a result, I never got around to posting this thing, although I did make it available on my now-defunct website. It's not for everyone, but this person sure enjoyed it.

Note well the "nosex" code in the header: This is a pure humiliation piece with nothing that really qualifies as sexual activity. If you need something steamier, try "The Eye of the Beholder," which I am reposting with this, or you can wait a week or so until I've finished the piece I'm working on now.

THE PRICE OF SUCCESS

I like to think of myself as easygoing. There aren't too many people in the world whom I truly loathe, but Julie Michaelson managed to put herself at the top of the list in less than a week.

Up until then, life was going well. I worked for a general litigation firm in West Los Angeles. I was up for partner this fall, and all the signs indicated that I had a good shot at it. The firm was doing more business than ever, the partnership draws were up, and I had brought in two big new clients in the last year. I had put in my dues, and I was ready to start enjoying the payoffs.

I arrived for work Friday morning feeling an unfamiliar sensation. I actually dreaded my job. I hadn't felt that way since my first year as an associate, when I hadn't yet adjusted to the constant pressure for billable hours.

I greeted my secretary Phyllis as I rounded the corner by my office and disappeared into what should have been my sanctuary. I glanced at the clock on my desk. At least it was only seven-thirty. Julie wouldn't be here for about two hours.

This particular hell of mine began Monday morning, when Bill Michaelson, the managing partner, had walked into my office. With him had been a tall, thin, and breathtakingly beautiful teenage girl. She had thick blonde hair down her back and bright blue eyes, and something in the snotty expression on her face told me that the words "hard work" were not in this girl's vocabulary.

"Hannah, I'd like you to meet my daughter Julie. She's going to be working here this summer before she leaves for Harvard."

Harvard, yes, I thought. Not college, Harvard. But Bill was like that, and most of the time didn't even realize he was doing it.

I stood, nodding to Julie.

"Nice to meet you."

"You, too," Julie sneered. I noticed Julie's eyes dropping to my behind, and a satisfied smirk spread over Julie's face. I fought the embarrassed flush coloring my cheeks.

"I thought I would put Julie to work for you," Bill said. "Just give her what you think she can handle, filing and that sort of thing. She's thinking about law school, so I wanted to give her a good idea of what's involved."

"Sure, Bill. No problem."

"Great. Let me know if you need anything."

He patted Julie on the shoulder and left, shutting the door.

"Well, why don't you grab a seat?" I said.

"I guess you need an orthopedic chair for yourself, though, right?" Julie said as she said sat down.

I froze in mid-descent.

"I beg your pardon?"

"For your butt. I mean, a regular chair would be too narrow for that fat butt of yours, right?"

My jaw dropped, not believing what I had just heard. Julie stared at me, smiling, daring me to say something. I almost had. But in those cruel blue eyes, I saw that Julie was capable of telling her father whatever lies were necessary to protect herself. And who would Bill Michaelson believe? Me or his own daughter?

I held my retort in check, hating myself for it. I glared at the girl in front of me, but my anger was rapidly overwhelmed by humiliation.

I took a deep breath and tried to regain control of the situation.

"Look, why don't we get started? I can give you some stuff I need to get filed, things that Phyllis hasn't had a chance to get to. Let me get her in here."

I reached for my intercom, but Julie stopped me.

"Fuck that. I don't want to do secretary stuff. My dad said I could work with the lawyers."

I gripped the edge of my desk tightly, realizing I was trapped. The only way out of this was to keep Julie happy and occupied with something.

"Okay. How about this? I'm involved in a big case right now. We're defending the general contractor who built Jeffery Katzenberg's house up in Malibu. He's suing them because he doesn't like how it came out. I need someone to organize and summarize the construction documents. That's a lawyer task. It's something I would normally give to a junior associate. It should keep you busy for a while."

"Huh. Okay. That sounds cool. Just one question."

"What?"

"Was your ass always that big, or did it get this way from being a lawyer? 'Cuz if being a lawyer gives you a big butt, I think I'll do something else."

I closed my eyes, thanking God that my door was shut and Phyllis couldn't hear this.

"Julie, you are not making this very easy. If you want to get anything out of this summer, we have to learn to work together."

"It's not my fault you have a fat ass."

"I do not have a fat ass."

"It looks fat to me. Do your thighs chafe when you walk? Do you have to buy queen-size pantyhose? I mean, as short as you are, you don't have a lot of room for error. I'm guessing you've got about ten or fifteen pounds more than you need. Do you ever get out of the house and, like, exercise?"

"I'm trying. I am very busy."

Julie laughed.

"Sure you are. Carrying around all that lard on your butt must be hard work."

I took a breath, facing burning in mortification.

"Please stop."

She laughed again.

"Are you going to cry? I love making people cry."

I bet you do, I thought.

"The documents are in the library in two file boxes. The name of the case is 'Katzenberg v. Rite-Bilt.'"

"Okay. I'll leave you and your big butt alone now. See ya."

With that sort of precedent set, things had only gotten worse. Julie was very careful not to let anyone overhear her, and when other people were around, she was very polite and respectful. Alone with me, she slashed at my ego every chance she got. I had half-expected her to refuse to do any real work, but she had actually done an excellent job at organizing the documents. Of course, that meant that I had no choice but to praise her work when Bill checked in with me later that week. Which was probably what Julie had intended. My only legitimate complaint was Julie's behavior, and I wasn't about to tell the managing partner that I couldn't get along with his daughter.

The worst part about it was that Julie's cutting remarks were precisely what I was often telling myself. I did need to lose a few pounds. At 5'4", my 135lbs were more than I ought to be sporting. I had once been slimmer and trimmer (though nothing approaching Julie's flawless and apparently effortless size 7 physique), but years behind my desk pushing papers had added a good ten pounds to my thighs and behind. I thought I carried it well, but I could feel that extra weight bouncing and jiggling when I walked. One of these days, I kept telling myself, I was going to start working out again and get rid of it.

None of this made Julie's cruel attentions any easier to bear, though. She had taken to calling me "fat ass" when we were alone, and I let her do it. What was I supposed to do? If I complained to Bill, Julie would no doubt shower him with tearful and carefully-crafted lies about my treatment of her, whereupon my chances of making partner would evaporate.

"Good morning, fat ass," a painfully familiar voice said.

I looked up from my desk to see Julie coming in and shutting the door. She flopped into one of my chairs. I noticed that she had some document in her hand.

"Guess what we're doing today?"

I didn't respond, the self-satisfied smirk on Julie's face putting me immediately on guard.

"We're taking the day off," she said. "You and your big butt are coming home with me."

"What?"

"Take a look at this."

She tossed the piece of paper she held onto my desk. I picked it up warily and read it.

It was a letter from the president of Rite-Bilt to one of their subcontractors. I scanned it rapidly, my unease growing with each line. Rite-Bilt had underbid the job for Katzenberg's house, and had discovered that they could not complete it anywhere near the budget. Katzenberg was alleging that Rite-Bilt had cut corners in order to preserve their profit, but so far his lawyers hadn't been able to come up with anything concrete to prove it.

This letter, though, would change that. The president of Rite- Bilt, though he tried to be oblique about it, was suggesting that the concrete subcontractor not use as much steel in the foundation as was called for in the construction drawings. That foundation had subsequently developed serious cracks, but absent extensive coring, Katzenberg's experts were not likely to discover the shortcut Rite-Bilt had taken. Not without this letter. And if we were on the hook for the foundation, we were on the hook for the whole house, and that was essentially the case.

"I'm guessing that's what's called a 'smoking gun,'" Julie said.

"Yeah."

"I found it buried in the correspondence file. I don't know a lot about lawsuits, but as I understand it, you have to let Katzenberg's lawyers look at all that stuff, right?"

"If they ask for it the right way, yes."

I set the letter down, and Julie took it back. I turned, staring out the window. This was going to seriously change the character of this lawsuit.

The sound of ripping paper jerked my gaze back to my office. Julie was causally shredding the letter.

"What are you doing?" I almost screeched.

"That was just a copy. I've got the original hidden. See, what I'm going to do is hold on to it for now. You don't get it back unless you do what I want. Otherwise, when Katzenberg's lawyers come to review all those documents, you won't have that letter to give to them. Then I'll pretend to confess to my dad that you told me to destroy it because it made us look bad. I bet he won't like that at all. I might even have a crisis of conscience and mail it to Katzenberg."

My jaw dropped. This was light years beyond simply telling Bill that I was being mean to her. This was a potential complaint for the State Bar and an almost certain loss of my job.

"You can't do this."

"I am."

"Why?"

"Because I don't like fat people. I'm going to spend this weekend making you so ashamed of being fat that you'll never let yourself get like this again. My folks went out of town for the weekend last night, and you're going to spend three days with me and my friends. We're leaving right now. Get off that fat butt and let's go."

"I can't just leave like this."

"You can think up something, fat ass. We're wasting time."

Julie stood and opened the door. I remained at my desk, not believing this was happening.

"Move it," Julie snarled under her breath.

I forced myself to stand, trying to maintain control of my emotions. I walked out to Phyllis's desk.

"Julie and I are going over to the storage facility to review some documents. We probably won't be back today, so have a good weekend."

Phyllis started in surprise. Normally only junior associates handled that sort of task.

"Well, okay. You, too."

"Bye," Julie said.

"Bye, honey."

III.

I followed Julie's little Porsche down to the Venice beach house where the Michaelsons lived. I tried not to dwell on what she was doing, since doing so would probably cause me to break down crying.

I pulled in behind Julie and followed her inside. The house was a few blocks from PCH, three stories tall and right on the sand. The Venice boardwalk began a few blocks down the street.

Julie led me up the stairs to the second floor living room. The back half of the room dropped down about six inches, looking out on the sand and ocean. In front, by the stairs, was the kitchen and dining room. A hallway off to my right seemed to lead to a couple of bedrooms, and the stairs continued up to the third floor. The furniture was all new and very expensive. Bill was apparently doing very well.

Julie let me take in my surroundings, then turned to me.

"Okay, fat ass, here are the rules. You're going to be our slave until Sunday night. You do what we say, when we say it, or else. We're going to dress you up and play a lot of games, all of which will be designed to humiliate you as much as possible. Now, since that suit you have on is somewhat flattering, you're going to wear something more appropriate."

I then noticed a workout bag sitting on the couch, which Julie began digging around in. She pulled out a small wad of hot pink spandex and tossed it to me.

"Put that on."

I examined it, realizing it was a tiny dental-floss bikini. I looked up at Julie in horror.

"Yeah, I know, it's going to look like shit on you, which is the point. Get it on now."

I glanced around, looking for the bathroom, but Julie stopped me.

"No. Right where you are. We're going to be going through this routine all weekend, so get used to it."

"This is rape."

She laughed.

"Rape? Yuck. I'm not laying a finger on that fat ass of yours. No one's holding you here. It's your choice. You'll just have to live with the consequences if you leave."

"I'm not going to undress right in front of you."

"Yes, you are. I'm not giving you anywhere to hide. Privacy is out this weekend. Since it's conducive to making excuses about your butt."

Steeling myself, I slipped out of the conservative gray suit I had on. Julie took each piece of clothing as I removed it.

"You get it all back when we're done."

I was soon naked, and Julie began laughing.

"Oh, jeez. Are those thighs or Christmas hams? Can you say 'liposuction?' Jesus."

She walked around, examining me, as I reddened in humiliation.

"God, you're even fatter out of your clothes. I bet you float butt-up when you go swimming, huh? Probably don't even need a life preserver. Make it shake for me."

"What?"

"Jump around. I want to see it jiggle."

Closing my eyes, I tried to dance around weakly.

"Faster. You're not jiggling enough."

I tried to comply until I could feel the flab on my butt bouncing around. Julie laughed, but didn't stop me.

"Jell-O! You look like a walking bowl of Jell-O! Bleah! Stop already, I want to puke. Get dressed."

I slipped into the bikini, feeling the thong bottoms disappearing between my butt cheeks. My God, this thing was tight. And unflattering? I didn't even want to look at myself.

"Eww," Julie said. "At least you trim your pubes. That would be beyond disgusting."

I slipped the top on, and Julie stood back, appraising my cruelly.

"We're missing something. Okay, I know what we need."

She dug into the bag again, coming up with a pair of spike heels.

"Put these on. That will make your butt stick out even more."

Fighting the tears, I slipped into the sandals. The high heels forced me to tense my legs, further accentuating the flab on my thighs and buttocks.

"Great. You're truly revolting. Now my friends will be here any minute, and you're going to serve us like this. Until Sunday night, your name is no longer Hannah. Your name is Fat Ass. Got that?"

I swallowed hard against the tears, nodding but not looking up.

"What's your name?"

I tried, but was unable to answer her.

"Tell me your name, goddamnit, or I'll call my dad right now."

"Fat Ass," I mumbled.

"Louder."

"Fat Ass."

"What is your name? Say it."

"My name is Fat Ass."

"Louder! I want people to hear it and wonder what's going on."

"Fat Ass!" I cried. "My name is Fat Ass!"

Julie lost control of herself laughing for a few moments, bracing herself on the couch.

"Good. Whenever anyone asks this weekend, that's what I want to hear."

Julie then led me into the kitchen.

"This is where you're going to be working this weekend. Whenever any of us want something to eat or drink, you're going to waddle your big butt in here and get it for us. If that means cooking, that's what you do too."

She showed me where the soft drinks and snacks were, then demonstrated how the various appliances worked.

"I'm going to go change, but you're staying in here and getting ready. Make some snacks or stuff for us to eat."

Julie disappeared and I tried to keep from crying. That would be the last straw, the only thing I could hold onto. I could not let them see me crying, even though I suspected they would do their best to make me do it.

I found some avocados and tried to make guacamole. Julie reappeared a few minutes later, wearing a bikini similar to mine. Unlike me, however, Julie looked just great in it. Her legs were long and muscular, her butt tight and toned.

Julie noticed me looking and laughed.

"Like what you see? You'll never look this hot in a million years, believe me."

She reached out and tasted the guacamole.

"Mmm. You may have a fat butt, but you can cook. Is that how you got fat? Too much cooking and not enough working out?"

I kept my eyes down on the counter, but Julie reached out and slapped me across the face.

"Answer me, damn it! I don't care how embarrassing it is, when I ask you a fucking question, you're going to answer me."

"That's how I got fat."

I tried to ignore the burning sting on my cheek. When was the last time anyone had slapped me? Grade school?

"I thought so. Well this weekend, things will be different. No eating unless I say, and we're going to work you out in the most embarrassing ways we can think of. Do you know how to rollerblade?"

"Yes."

"I'm shocked. You must not do much of it. We'll take you rollerblading then. We'll show everyone that flabby butt of yours."

The doorbell rang, but neither of us moved. Julie glared at me.

"Get the fucking door, Fat Ass. That's your job, remember?"

Trying to remain steady on my heels (which meant I had to keep my butt tensed and jiggly), I went to the door. Behind it, I found two gorgeous teenage girls, both brown-haired and green-eyed. I realized they were twins. They looked me over in awe, grinning.

"Are you Hannah?" one of them asked.

"Her name is Fat Ass!" Julie yelled from the living room, and they both shrieked in laughter, covering their mouths.

"I meant, are you Fat Ass?"

"Yes," I said, and they laughed again. They entered the house, and I shut the door behind them. Although they were not dressed the same, their bodies were identical: about five-seven, long, lean, and toned, buttocks tight and perfectly shaped.

"Fat Ass, this is Leslie and Lori. Leslie and Lori, this is Fat Ass."

The girls laughed again, looking over my body.

"God," Lori said. "She is fat. Look at that butt. Yuck."

"That suit is just disgusting," Leslie said. "That ought to be illegal."

"I can't even see the back of it," Lori said. "It just disappears."

More laughter.

"And the thighs," Julie said. "Like the thighs?"

"How can you live yourself?" Lori asked. "If my thighs looked like that, I'd slit my wrists."

"Me too," Leslie said.

"How much do you weigh?" Lori asked.

"One thirty," I said.

"Oh, bullshit."

"Get a scale," Leslie said. "Do you have a scale?"

"It's in the master bathroom upstairs," Julie said. "Go get the scale, Fat Ass."

Lost in mortification, I complied. I returned and set the scale down on the floor.

"Get on it," Lori said.

I did.

"Ha! She lied! She weighs one thirty-six."

"How tall are you?" Julie asked.

"Five-four."

"That's just revolting. You ought to weigh a hundred and five. I mean, one-twenty, tops and that's if you really worked out lifting weights and everything."

"We should weigh her all weekend," Lori said. "See if we actually get her to lose weight."

"Good idea. But I bet it won't work."

"Do you have a measuring tape?" Leslie asked. "We should measure her butt and thighs, too."

"I bet my mom has one somewhere. Let me go look."

Julie disappeared upstairs. Leslie and Lori continued looking at me, shaking their heads and snickering. Lori got on the scale.

"How much?"

"One fifteen. And I'm three inches taller than her."

"And you're dressed. She's just wearing a bikini."

"God."

Leslie stood up, slipping off her shorts and T-shirt. Underneath she wore a neon blue bikini. She climbed up on the scale.

"One twelve."

"Okay, Fat Ass," Lori said. "Look at her, then look at yourself. If you were a guy, who would you rather fuck?"

I stared at Leslie bitterly. Eighteen, and not an ounce of extra flesh on her. Smooth legs and butt, high perky breasts. Leslie stuck them out at me, grinning.

"Her," I mumbled.

"What? I can't hear you."

"Her!"

Both of them shrieked in laughter, then the doorbell rang.

"Get the door, Fat Ass!" Lori yelled, and they collapsed laughing again.

I walked out to the foyer and opened the door. Behind it were two more girls, one about my height, with red hair, the other a tall blonde like Julie. And like the others, they were both much thinner and prettier than I was.

"Hi," the blonde said.

"Hello," I mumbled.

"Introduce yourself," Lori yelled.

"My name is Fat Ass."

Both girls convulsed in laughter.

"Oh, my God," the redhead said, putting her hand over her mouth.

I shut the door behind them and followed them back to the living room, just as Julie reappeared with a measuring tape in her hand.

"Hey, guys."

"Jewls."

"Fat Ass, this is Dominique and Liz. Guys, this is Fat Ass."

They laughed again, and Dominique, the blonde, stood there appraising me and shaking her head.

"She is bad. You're weren't kidding about her butt."

"Fat Ass?" Liz said. "Is that really the best you could do?"

"Well, what would you suggest, bitch?" Julie said.

"I don't know, maybe Lard Butt or Thunder Thighs."

"Oh, that's fucking original."

"Dumbo?" Lori said.

"No. That's lame."

"Big Bertha?" Dominique asked.

"Betty Big Butt?" Lori asked.

"No," Liz said. "We need something that truly encapsulates that ass. Which will be tough, as big as it is. But it has to be something that, when you hear it, makes people think, 'Goddamn, her butt must be huge.'"

"Attack of the Killer Cellulite," Lori said, and they all laughed.

"That's too long," Liz said. "But something like that."

Julie looked back at me.

"Stop standing there listening like this is any of your business. Go get them all something to drink."

"What do you want?" I mumbled.

The girls put in their orders, and I went into the kitchen. But I could still hear them.

"How about Elephantiasis?" Leslie said.

"Elephantiasis?" Dominique asked.

"It's this disease that makes parts of your body get really fat."

"That's gross. How do you get it?"

"I don't know."

"I think it's from parasites or something," Julie said. "But you only get it in Africa."

"Good. I'd kill myself if that happened to me."

"I know," Liz said, "Hippo Buttocks!"

All four of the other girls shrieked in laughter, Lori and Leslie both rolling backwards onto the couch holding their sides.

"Hannah Hippo Buttocks!" Julie cried, and bent over laughing. I listened to the peals of laughter ringing off the walls, fighting the tears that grew in my eyes.

"Hippo Buttocks! Hippo Buttocks!" Lori and Leslie both chanted before losing control laughing again.

"Hippo Buttocks!" Dominique yelled, "bring us our drinks!" She grabbed onto Julie, trying to keep from collapsing onto the floor in laughter. She was only partially successful, and the two girls had to sit down on the end of the couch, holding each other as they laughed at me.

IV.

I stood tensely in the kitchen, wiping at the tears running down my cheeks. How could I have gotten myself into something like this? What had I ever done to deserve this kind of treatment? What was so bad about being a little overweight?

The girls continued laughing at me, all five of them rolling on the couch or the floor in utter hysterics. Whenever the laughter began to subside, someone would yell, "Hippo Buttocks!" and the others would all shriek in response. I was unable to move from my spot in the kitchen, frozen as I was in humiliated mortification. I felt like I was about to vomit.

The laughter took a good three or four minutes to finally subside.

"Hippo Buttocks!" Julie yelled. "Get out here!"

I shuffled out to the living room with the tray of sodas.

"Your name is no longer Fat Ass. Tell us all what your name is."

I sniffed, trying to take a breath.

"Hippo Buttocks."

Cruel laughter battered my ears.

"She's crying," Lori said. "Look at her."

"Are you crying, Hippo Buttocks?" Julie asked. "Are you crying?"

"Cry, Hippo Buttocks," Liz said. "We like it when you cry."

I fought off the shakes that were beginning to take control of my body. I could only stand there and gasp against the tears.

"What's your name?" Dominique asked again.

"Hippo Buttocks."

"Louder," Julie said. "Like before."

"Hippo Buttocks!" I yelled in frustration. "My name is Hippo Buttocks!"

The rest of them giggled, and Lori grabbed the tape measure that Julie had dropped earlier.

"Let's measure her."

Lori squatted down next to me and wrapped the tape measure around my butt.

"Thirty-five. Almost thirty-six."

"At five-four," Dominique sneered, "that's gross. I think I'm close to thirty-six, but I'm six inches taller than her."

"Measure her thighs," Julie said.

Lori tried.

"I can hardly get my hand between them. Spread your legs."

I did, and Lori measured me.

"Oh, wow. Twenty-three."

All of them laughed in disbelief.

"That is bad," Julie said.

"Major," Dominique said.

"Everybody get up and let me measure you," Lori said. "Let's see how bad she really is."

The ones who were not already down to bikinis stripped out of their clothes, and Lori measured them all, then Julie measured her. No one came close to my measurements. Dominique's butt was the biggest, and she was only just past thirty-four. Liz, who was my height, was only thirty. When they measured thighs, no one else was bigger than eighteen.

"Truly disgusting," Julie said. "Do you see now why we have to call you Hippo Buttocks?"

I couldn't respond, and Julie smacked me across the face again.

"Answer me."

"Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, I know why you call me Hippo Buttocks."

"Who has the biggest butt here?"

"I do."

"And who has the fattest thighs?"

I sniffed.

"I do."

They let me stand there for a few moments, laughing at my tears. So much for not crying.

"What can we do now?" Lori asked.

"I have an idea," Julie said. She got up and went over to the stereo.

"Hippo Buttocks, get up on the coffee table."

I glanced at the table in confusion.

"What?"

"Get up on the fucking coffee table. Are you deaf as well as fat? You're going to dance for us."

The other girls hooted in anticipation, circling around the table and sitting on the couch and love seat. I climbed up on the table, trying to keep my balance in my high heels.

"I made a special tape for her to dance to," Julie said. She turned on the stereo and started the tape. A few seconds later, the thumping refrains of Sir Mix-a-lot's "Baby Got Back," filled the room, and the other four girls shrieked in laughter. If it were possible at this point, I probably got even redder in embarrassment. This was simply too much.

"Dance, Hippo Buttocks!" Julie yelled. "Put that fat ass to work!"

I closed my eyes, trying to imagine myself away from this horrible situation. I swayed around with the music, trying to ignore the howls of laughter around me.

"Shake that bootie!" Dominique cried.

"Shake your butt!" Lori yelled. "Shake it, baby!"

I felt a slap on my thigh, and looked down to see Julie glaring at me.

"Move that ass! I want to see some jiggle! This is rap, damn it, not elevator music."

I forced myself to move faster, feeling my thighs and buttocks bounce around as she moved. The laughter increased, and I peered out from between my tight eyelids to see all of the girls rolling around in hysterics. Lori and Leslie were holding each other, gasping for breath.

I kept it up, having no choice. The girls had gone beyond laughter, and were holding their sides in pain, tears streaking their faces. I was crying as well, but for a different reason.

The song ended, and the next one began: Wrecks-n-Effects's "Rump Shaker." They made me dance around to that until some of the girls were begging for mercy. Julie finally shut off the tape deck to let them catch their breath. I just stood there, crying quietly as the laughter bounced off the walls.

It was soon lunchtime, and the girls made me fix them grilled cheese sandwiches.

"But not for you," Julie said. "You're on a diet. Nothing but carrots and celery."

"Hippos don't eat cheese anyway," Lori said. "Just vegetables."

I finished the sandwiches in a few minutes and served them. Then they made me stand there watching them eat. My stomach growled, but I tried to ignore it. Throughout the meal, they gave me orders about what to do: "Hippo Buttocks, get me another Diet Coke." "Hippo Buttocks, get me a napkin." "Hippo Buttocks, clear off those plates." I obeyed. What was I supposed to do?

When they were done, Julie emerged from the kitchen with a small handful of carrot and celery sticks.

"Okay, Hippo Buttocks, here's your lunch. Eat up, 'cause that's all you get until tonight."

I ate the vegetables slowly, not tasting anything. Then I did the dishes and cleaned up the kitchen, listening to them plot my next torment.

"We should enter her in a bikini contest," Dominique said.

"Where?" Lori asked.

"I don't know. There must be something going on this weekend."

Leslie got off the couch.

"Where's the phone book?"

"Under the counter by the phone in the kitchen," Julie said.

Leslie came in, glancing at me once.

"You missed a spot there, Hippo Buttocks."

She dug out the phone book and took the phone back to the living room.

"I'm just going to call around and see what's up."

"Could we really get away with something like that?" Lori asked. "I mean, wouldn't people think something was up?"

"We won't get carried away with it," Dominique said. "We won't make fun of her in public. Just making her do it is enough. She knows she has a big ugly butt. Especially when you figure that most of the contestants will be amateur models and girls like that."

"What else should we do?" Liz asked.

"I still want to take her out in public," Julie said. "She said she knows how to rollerblade. Just think what it would look like having her skate around in that thong with her butt hanging out."

"Eww," Lori said. "That makes me cringe just thinking about it."

"We should all go out with her. It'd be even worse if people have us to compare her to."

"That's what I was thinking," Julie said. "We can rent skates at this place just a few blocks down."

Leslie set down the phone.

"Hooters is having a contest tomorrow night at nine. Five hundred bucks in prizes."

"Oh, right," Dominique said. "As if she'd actually win. They're going to need barf buckets when she gets up there."

"Can we get in, though?" Lori said.

"I asked. They said it's not a problem if we get there before eight. After that, they start carding."

"Cool. Let's do that."

Lori glanced toward the kitchen.

"Do you really think she'll do it, Jewls?"

"She has no choice. She made her choice about this when she let her butt get so fucking big. She knows what I'll do if she says no. Don't you, Hippo Buttocks?"

I wiped at my tears, trying not to think about this idea. Maybe they would change their minds. They couldn't actually do something like that, could they? At least this was in private. How could I possibly get up in front of a hooting crowd of spectators and dance around like I had done earlier?

"Okay, Hippo Buttocks," Julie yelled. "Get that fat ass in gear. We're going rollerblading."

VI.

Still dressed in that obscene pink thong and still wearing those awkward spike heels, I followed them down the boardwalk to the skate rental place. We got a lot of glances and admiring looks--after all, I was surrounded by five gorgeous teenage girls wearing skimpy bathing suits--but I also got cringes and stares of disbelief when people got a better look at me. Amongst all that tight teenage flesh, I stood out like an elephant in a ballroom.

The skate rental guy was too busy ogling Julie and Dominique to pay much attention to me. They made me pay for the whole rental bill, and we were soon out on the boardwalk again. Fighting to remain in control, I strapped on my skates.

"Hippo Buttocks," Julie said quietly, "you get to skate out in front of us. We want to watch people's reactions. Get going."

I stood up, and rolled off down the sidewalk. It was only Friday afternoon, so the beach wasn't too crowded. It wasn't deserted either, though, and more than a few people looked up to watch as I passed. I could see a pattern developing after a few minutes. At first, the sight of me in that tiny bikini got people's attention, and they strained for a closer look. But when they got it, the interest turned to confusion, then often disbelief as I passed by and they got a look at the rear view. Each time, I could hear girlish giggles and laughter behind me, and my face grew hotter and redder.

I passed a small group of teenage boys in gang attire and skateboards, lounging in the sand. They hooted as I approached.

"Oh! Get off the beach!" one of them yelled "Someone call the fashion police!"

Behind me, I heard the girls shriek in laughter, and the boys hooted and called to them as they passed.

I tried to let myself settle into the familiar rhythm of skating, tried to ignore everything around me. I felt like I was watching someone do this on television. It no longer seemed real.

Before long, I could tell that the tense and anguished look on my face was getting more attention than my bikini, and I tried to get control of my emotions. I kept telling myself that this could not last forever.

We reached the end of the boardwalk, and I pulled up to a stop. The girls skated up, circling around me.

"That was good, Hippo Buttocks," Julie said. "I'm proud of you. Are you embarrassed now?"

"Yes."

"Do you want to cry? You look like you're going to cry."

"No."

"It's okay to cry," Dominique said. "We want to you cry."

"Cry over that fat butt of yours," Leslie said.

I closed my eyes, trying to ignore them. Someone slapped my ass, making it jiggle, and the rest of them laughed. I didn't move

"Get going," Julie said. "All the way back."

I started back down the boardwalk, trying to get away from them. >From a long way away, I could see that those same boys were still sitting by the sidewalk. I forced myself to look away from them, to ignore the cruel looks on their faces. This time they didn't say anything, but still laughed as I passed. I could hear the girls talking behind me but ignored them.

I reached the skate rental place a few minutes later, and Julie screeched up behind me.

"What do you think you're doing? We're not done yet. Follow me."

I saw that the rest of them had continued down the boardwalk. I followed Julie until we reached a T-shirt store. Liz and Dominique were inside, up to something. I glanced at Lori and Leslie, who could scarcely contain their glee at whatever was going on.

"Just wait a few minutes, Hippo Buttocks," Julie said. "We had another idea. Since this didn't turn out to be as embarrassing as we thought."

"Are we really doing this?" Lori asked. "What if someone calls the Police?"

Julie scoffed.

"What are they going to do? This isn't illegal. They'll probably just laugh at her like everyone else."

Cringing in horror, I began to suspect what they were doing. I looked back in the store, seeing the attendant looking at Dominique and Liz in disbelief. I could just barely hear them talking.

" . . . it's a dare," Dominique was saying, "it was her idea . . ."

The attendant shook his head and went toward the back. The two girls followed him.

I looked back at the other three, who giggled and glanced at each other. I started crying again, and I didn't even know what they were going to make me do.

Dominique emerged a few minutes later.

"Come on, Hippo Buttocks, we need you to pay for this."

Numbly, I followed her inside where Liz was waiting for us. The T-shirt guy looked me briefly, shaking his head as I paid him. A rolled up white T-shirt sat on the counter. I tried to look at it, but Dominique snatched it away from me. When I was done, I followed them out.

The girls circled around me, giggling, as Dominique held up the T-shirt.

"We got this for you, Hippo Buttocks. You have to wear it while we skate around."

She unrolled the T-shirt, and I felt like my life had just ended.

"Oh, my God," I gasped. "You can't do this."

"We are, Hippo Buttocks," Julie said. "Do it, or I'll call my Dad right now. I even brought my phone."

She unzipped her fanny pack and held up a little Motorola.

"Your choice."

I close my eyes and began to shake again. I didn't have the strength for this. I could not do it. It was beyond me.

I heard the beep of Julie's cell phone.

"Okay. Here goes."

"No! Wait--oh, God." I swallowed, fighting the tears, as they laughed at me. "Give it to me."

Dominique handed me the T-shirt, and hands shaking, I pulled it on. I saw a woman a few yards away look at me and gasp. The man next to her laughed in disbelief.

"Oh, my God," I heard the woman saying.

Julie spun around on her skates, rolling up to them.

"It's a dare. It's just a joke."

"Oh, my God," the woman said again.

I looked away from them, and began skating back down the boardwalk. I looked up to the sky, away from the amazed and disbelieving faces as I passed. It only got worse when I did, though, because when they saw the back of the shirt, they would often howl in laughter.

The front of the shirt said, "My Name is Hippo Buttocks." The back said, "I have a Fat Ass, Don't I?"

The T-shirt was an extra small, so nothing was concealed. After a minute or so, my whole body was buzzing. My emotions had simply shut down from overload. I had long since passed the point of being as mortified as I could be. But I was still stung by each gasp of amazement and hoot of laughter as I passed. In some corner of my mind, I knew they weren't laughing at my behind, but at the T-shirt, though that hardly mattered.

No one really said anything beyond exclamations of surprise and disbelief. I'm sure they were simply too shocked by the sight of that shirt to do anything but gape. I reached the end of the boardwalk eventually and turned back around. I saw the thrilled, giggly faces of the girls approaching, but ignored them. They laughed as I passed.

The return trip was more of the same, but eventually it was over. The girls didn't let me take the T-shirt off, though, even when we returned the skates. The skate rental guy's eyes bulged when he saw the shirt, and he looked away in embarrassment.

We walked home after that. Before we had left, I would never have guessed I would be so happy to get back to Julie's house.

VII.

We regrouped in the living room.

"I'm sick of that suit she has on," Dominique said. "Don't you have anything else?"

"Do I?" Julie said. "You bet I do. Off with the suit, Hippo Buttocks, we're going to play dress-up now."

I slipped out of the T-shirt and bikini, standing naked in front of them. The others looked me over in disdain as Julie rooted through her workout bag.

"Her tits aren't so bad," Lori said, "but they just don't go with that ass."

"Totally out of proportion," Leslie said.

"Get up on the coffee table again, Hippo Buttocks," Dominique said.

I complied, trying not to look at them.

"I'm going to barf," Leslie said.

"Grab your butt," Liz said. "Feel all that flab."

I did, squeezing gently.

"Harder. Squish it all around."

I began to massage my butt like a ball of dough, hoping it was what they wanted. The laughter that greeted my movements indicated that it likely was.

"Liz, get up there with her," Dominique said.

"Why?"

"So we can compare. You guys are the same height, I want her to appreciate just how fat she is."

Liz climbed up next to me, grinning cruelly.

"Feel her butt, Hippo Buttocks," Dominique said.

I reached out, touching her lightly. Hard as a rock.

"Now feel yours with your other hand."

I did.

"Which butt feels better?"

"Hers," I said softly.

"Stop fucking mumbling, Hippo Buttocks!" Julie yelled, not looking up from the bag. "When we ask you a question, you fucking answer it loud enough for people to hear!"

"Hers!"

"Slap your butt," Dominique said.

I did, feeling the flab jiggling around.

"Again!" Lori said. "Harder."

I slapped myself several times, the sting on my buttocks not quite reaching the sting on my face from their hysterical laughter.

"Now slap Liz's butt," Dominique said.

I did, feeling no give at all.

"Okay. You're a guy. Or a lesbian. Which butt would you rather snarf on?"

I gasped for breath.

"Hers."

"Say it."

"I'd rather snarf on Liz's butt than mine."

They all shrieked with laughter, and Julie finally emerged with what she wanted. I saw that she was holding some lacy lingerie, a garter belt and an almost non-existent thong panty. She tossed them to me and dug out some stockings to go with them.

"Oh, God, that's going to be revolting," Liz said.

"I know. Get them on, Hippo Buttocks."

I had never liked lacy, frilly underwear, so it took me a minute or two to get the garter belt straight. It was at least a size too small, and made my waist bulge uncomfortably. The stockings were likewise too small, and the flab on my thighs bulged out of the tops.

"Anything else?" Dominique asked. "I don't want to look at her tits all night."

"Put the T-shirt back on," Leslie said.

Lori tossed it to me, and I pulled it on. As small as it was, it made my breasts stand out. The last touch was another pair of spike heels.

Julie went over to the stereo.

"More dancing! Get moving, Hippo Buttocks!"

She turned the tape back on, starting up the last bit of "Rump Shaker." That ended in a few moments, and the next song came on: "Fat Bottomed Girls."

I danced around for them, ignoring their shrieks of laughter and the annoying jiggle of my thighs and butt. A sudden flash jerked my attention back to the room.

Julie was standing back from the living room with a camera, shooting pictures of me.

"No--wait--you can't do that."

She shot off another picture.

"Oh eat me, Hippo Buttocks. I'm not going to blackmail you with these. At least not now. These are just to show all my friends at school, so they'll believe we could actually get you to do this. Now get dancing unless you want me to call my dad."

She took another shot, and I forced myself to resume the dance. They kept me going for another ten or fifteen minutes, each song worse than the last. Julie must have scoured old play lists and albums for days to find this stuff. And she took pictures of all of it.

When the tape finally stopped, they let me get down from the table.

"Let's take some more pictures," Dominique said.

"Like what?" Julie asked.

"Just around the house. Your folks' bedroom. Stuff like that."

"Okay. Come on, Hippo Buttocks."

I followed them upstairs, and Julie arranged me at the end of the bed. I tried not to think about Bill Michaelson living and sleeping and making love in here.

"Pose for us."

I tried to comply, but Julie stalked up to me, snarling.

"I am not fucking kidding, okay? You are going to get into the spirit of this or I'm calling my dad right now."

"Okay," I gasped.

"Now pose. Look like you're enjoying this."

I tried to strike a lascivious pose, and the girls laughed.

"That's better. Grab your tits." I did. Flash. "Now your ass." Another flash. "Get over by the window and do it again."

I did, and she shot off a few pictures.

"Bend over and show us that disgusting ass."

I bent over, feeling the garter straps digging into the flab on my butt. Several of the girls reacted in disgust.

"Yuck, Jewls!" Dominique said.

"No one's forcing you to watch." She shot off another picture. "Grab your butt, again, Hippo Buttocks."

I did, spreading it for them as the tears ran down my face.

"Hey, Jewls, I've got an idea," Lori said. "Look what I found."

I turned around to see Lori holding a bottle of nail polish.

"Eww," Leslie said. "What color is that?"

"It says 'Vomit.'"

"That was my sister's," Julie said. "She must have dumped her stuff in here when she left for college last year."

"Get over, Hippo Buttocks," Lori said.

I walked over, eager to get away from the window. Lori led me into the bathroom.

"Sit on the toilet."

I did, and she squatted down in front of me. The nail polish was some putrid gray-green color, the sort of thing I sometimes saw on rebellious girls at the mall. Lori proceeded to paint all my toenails with it.

"Man, that is gross," Liz said.

"Not as gross as her butt," Dominique said, "but almost."

Leslie appeared in the doorway holding a magic marker.

"Stand up, Hippo Buttocks."

"What are you going to do now, idiot?" Julie asked.

"I want to write on her butt."

The rest of them laughed, and Julie left the bathroom to get more markers. Leslie came up to me, turning me around. I watched in the mirror as she wrote, "Hippo Butt" across my ass. Liz grabbed the marker from her and wrote, "Thunder Thigh 1" and "Thunder Thigh 2" on each of my legs, just above the top of the stockings.

Lori screwed up her face at them.

"She can't enter the bikini contest like that, guys. Come on."

"We'll get it off before we go," Liz said. "I bet nail polish remover would work."

Julie reappeared with more markers, and she and Dominique wrote, "I am a Fat Ass" and "Cellulite Central" on my butt. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine that I was a million miles away from them.

"Okay, more pictures," Julie said.

She dragged me back downstairs and out onto the deck above the beach. She made me pose around the desk showing off the decorations on my behind as the rest of them laughed at me.

VIII.

It had begun to get dark by then, and the girls sat down to decide what to that night.

"Let's just order a pizza," Dominique said.

"I wanted to make her cook for us," Julie said.

"That's lame," Liz said. "What we really ought to do is make her go buy us some beer."

"Yeah," Lori said.

"Good idea," Dominique said.

"What do you want to get?" Liz asked.

"MGD? Bud?"

"I hate Budweiser," Julie said.

"Why stop at beer?" Lori asked. "Let's make her get us a whole pile of stuff. Some real booze."

"I want some rum," Dominique said. "Rum and diet cokes."

"Piña coladas," Lori said. "Get some Piña Colada mix."

"And some tequila," Liz said. "We can make margaritas."

"Or do slammers," Julie said. "Get some 7-Up."

"Someone write all this down."

"Hippo Buttocks! Get some paper and write all this down."

I found a pad of paper in the kitchen and took down their orders.

"How do you want to do this?" Lori asked.

"There's a liquor store up the street," Julie said. "We can just walk."

"We have to dress Hippo Buttocks up first," Dominique said.

"What she has on is fine," Julie said. "She just needs a skirt."

She dug around in her bag, pulled out a neon orange spandex miniskirt, and tossed it to me.

"Get that on and let's go."

I stepped into the skirt, pulling it up. Like the rest of my outfit, it was two sizes too small. The spandex squeezed and squished my butt around in the most unflattering manner possible. It was tight enough that you could see the garter belt under it. Of course, it was obvious what I had on underneath because it was just short enough to expose the tops of the stockings. I looked down at myself in horror. I looked like a twenty-dollar hooker, and that was even ignoring the "My Name is Hippo Buttocks" across my chest.

"I can't go out like this."

"You can, and you are," Julie said.

"People will know something is up. This is too much."

She laughed and dug into the couch behind her, coming up with a coin. She threw it at me.

"There's a quarter. Go call someone who cares."

The sun had gone down by the time we left, thank God. Only a few people noticed me as they drove by in their cars, and I tried to ignore their looks of amazement and revulsion. The liquor store was only three blocks up the street, so we got there in a few minutes.

I had to steel myself for a moment before opening the door. I glanced back at the girls, standing on the corner watching in glee at my predicament.

I passed an old woman as I entered the store, looking away as she gasped at what I had on. I heard her muttering, "oh my goodness," to herself as I passed. I ducked between the aisles as quickly as I could, first gathering the bags of chips and Doritos they wanted so I could use the bags to cover my T-shirt. Then I found the soda, and finally got a bottle of Bacardi and a bottle of Cuervo Gold.

The guy behind the counter looked like a college student, and he was watching TV, not paying attention to the store, when I approached. He glanced up quickly as I set my items down--then his eyes shot back to me as he realized what I looked like. His eyes bulged for a second before looking back at his register. He looked like he wanted to say something, but seemed to see in the mortified look on my face that conversation was the last thing I wanted.

He quickly totaled the bill.

"Twenty-four fifty-seven."

I paid him as quickly as I could and fled out to the street. The girls were waiting, and immediately erupted in laughter at my embarrassment.

"Did you enjoy that, Hippo Buttocks?" Julie asked.

"No."

More laughter.

"I saw that old bag checking you out. She might go call the police."

I wasn't sure whether that prospect thrilled me or horrified me. But the girls turned back toward the house, and I followed them, struggling to carry the bags of liquor and drinks.

As soon as we got back, Julie made me take the skirt off, which I was almost happy about. Then they put in their orders and I mixed them a round of drinks.

"Okay, Hippo Buttocks, now order us some pizza."

"What do you want?"

They argued for a minute or so before settling on two large pizzas, one pepperoni and mushroom and one Hawaiian. I dialed Domino's and put in the order.

"What should we do now?" Dominique asked.

"I don't think Hippo Buttocks got enough exercise today," Liz said. "She really needs to work that ass if she's going to lose weight."

"I know what we can do," Julie said.

She went over to the TV and dug out a videotape. She turned the system on and started the tape, which proved to be an aerobics videos. Sighing in resignation, I walked out to the living room, knowing what they wanted.

"Can I at least take these heels off?"

"No!" five voices shouted.

"Keep the heels," Julie said. "But lose the rest of that outfit. I've got something else for you to wear."

Numbly, I complied, stripping down until I stood naked in front of them in a pair of spike heels. Julie pulled some spandex workout gear out of her bag, a pair of bicycle shorts and thong unitard, and tossed them to me.

"Those are mine, so I doubt they're going to fit. But that's the point. Get them on."

I pulled on the shorts, which were far too tight to be comfortable. My butt squished and bulged against the fabric as I got them into place. The unitard dug into my buttocks, spreading them out and further emphasizing my flab.

"Okay, get with it, Hippo Buttocks," Dominique said, "move that fat ass of yours."

Julie fast-forwarded through the stretching portion until the models began the routine. I tried to follow along, jumping and bouncing around the living room as the girls howled in laughter. The spandex did nothing to stop the jiggle of my thighs and butt--if anything, it made it worse.

"Just what I want to see before I eat!" Leslie yelled.

"I swear, I'm going to barf," Lori said. "She looks like those fat women Richard Simmons is always with."

"Work it, girl!" Dominique yelled. "Shake that butt!"

I tried to ignore them, trying to get into the rhythm of the routine. I tried to tell myself that no matter what they said about me, maybe this would help. Maybe all this abuse would make me lose weight somehow.

After a few minutes, Julie and Dominique got up and joined me, dancing around to the music. As hard as I tried, I kept looking back at them, envying their flawless blonde beauty, their smooth bodies that had never known an excess ounce of fat. Julie saw me admiring them, and grinned at me wickedly.

"Dream on, Hippo Buttocks! You're never going to look this good."

The other three howled in laughter and got up, dancing with us, pressing against me and laughing at my attempts to ignore them. Random hands began pinching and slapping my butt, grabbing rolls of flab between their fingers.

My legs and lungs were beginning to burn from the workout, and I was soon gasping for breath.

"Getting tired, Hippo Buttocks?" Julie asked. "Is this too much for that flabby butt of yours?"

I moved faster, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of giving up, but she just laughed and shoved me back toward the couch. I lost my balance, falling onto the cushions.

"Take a break, fat ass. We don't want to kill you."

I closed my eyes, fighting tears of humiliation, and sat they trying to catch my breath.

"Rest if you have to Hippo Buttocks," Dominique said. "but if you're not going to work out, get your maid outfit back on."

Not watching them continue to jump around, I slipped out of the unitard and put the stockings back on.

IX.

The pizza arrived a few minutes later, and I got up to get the door without thinking. The delivery man--a pimpled faced kid in his teens--greeted me.

"Hi Domino's Pi--"

His eyes bulged, glancing down. In horror, I realized I hadn't put anything on over the panties and garter belt. I ducked back behind the door as shrieks of laughter erupted behind me. The kid glanced back up at me in shock, breathing hard.

"Uh, eighteen dollars and eleven cents."

I shoved a twenty at him, grabbed the pizzas, and shut the door, face burning in utter mortification. My five tormentors were rolling on the floor in hysterics at what I had unwittingly done to myself. I set the pizzas down on the coffee table and stepped back, covering my face, sobbing quietly. The laughter went on for another minute at least.

"Oh, god," Leslie gasped, "did you see his face?"

"I though he was going to faint," Dominique said, struggling for breath.

"Or throw up," Liz said.

"He's probably racing back to the store to tell his friends," Julie said. "I bet they'll be talking about this for years."

"The fat woman who answered the door in her underwear," Dominique said.

More laughter battered me ears, and then they attacked the pizza. I watched them, not sure what to do. Julie noticed a moment later.

"Aww. Are you hungry, Hippo Buttocks? Do you want some pizza?"

"Do you want to eat, Hippo Buttocks?" Dominique asked. "Do you want to stuff that fat face of yours and make your butt get even bigger?"

Liz held out a slice of pizza.

"Here, Hippo Buttocks. Eat it and get even fatter than you already are."

Not trusting their motives, I didn't move. But my stomach growled at the smell of the pizza. I hadn't had anything substantial to eat since breakfast that morning.

"You can eat, Hippo Buttocks," Julie said. "But you have to work out some more first."

She rewound the aerobics tape and restarted it.

"Move it! Shake that fat ass!"

Taking a deep breath, I resumed exercising. In the stockings and garter outfit I now wore, I could feel my flab jiggling and bouncing even more than it had before. Cruel laughter greeted my efforts, then the girls went back to eating dinner. I tried to concentrate on working out.

"Hippo Buttocks!" Dominique yelled a few minutes later, "mix me another drink."

"Me, too," Liz said.

I stopped exercising and took their glasses into the kitchen. Insane ideas about drugging them somehow spun through my head, but I knew it would just make my predicament worse. I brought the drinks back and resumed my workout.

"What should we do to her after dinner?" Lori asked.

"I'm running out of ideas," Julie said.

"Let's weigh her again. See if she's lost any weight."

"Yeah. Good idea."

When the tape finally finished, I was utterly exhausted. I bent over, gasping for breath.

"Okay, Hippo Buttocks," Julie said. "You can eat now."

I looked up, dying for a slice of pizza. Then I noticed that it was gone--they had eaten it all. They saw the disappointed look on my face and exploded into laughter.

"Who said anything about pizza?" Dominique said. "That was for us. You're on a diet. You get carrots and celery again."

Julie hopped up and ran into the kitchen. She returned a moment later with my meager rations. I forced it down, fighting the humiliation that made me want to vomit. I began crying again as I finished, unable to stop the tears. Of course, they only laughed at me.

"All right, Hippo Buttocks," Lori said, "up on the scale."

I followed her and got up on it. She squatted down and looked at the reading.

"One thirty-five. I guess she lost a pound."

"That's only fluid 'cause we've been starving her," Julie said. "That doesn't count. Her butt is still as fat as it was."

"We could measure that, too. Where's the tape?"

Liz found it and tossed it to her. She measured my butt and my thighs.

"Thirty-six and twenty-three. No change."

"Told you," Julie said. "She's a fat pig. It's going to take more than one day to correct that. Right, Hippo Buttocks?"

"Yes," I mumbled.

"Because?"

"Because I have a fat butt."

The other laughed.

"And?"

"I have fat thighs."

"And that's why your name is what?"

"Hippo Buttocks."

"Louder."

"Hippo Buttocks!"

All of them laughed at me. Julie stood there and grinned evilly.

"Okay. Well, you're not just fat now, you're disgusting and sweaty after that workout. You get five minutes to shower."

"Wait," Liz said. "Don't let her just get into the shower."

"What do you want to do?"

"Make her go swim in the ocean. Naked."

Eager looks spread over all their faces as I gasped in horror.

"Good idea," Dominique said. "Off with it, Hippo Buttocks."

"You can't do this," I said. "I can't go out there naked. At least let me wear a suit. I'll wear the most embarrassing suit you want, just don't make me do this naked."

Cruel laughter answered my plea.

"Sorry, Hippo Buttocks," Julie said. "We've done the bikini thing already. And you'll get plenty of chances to show everyone how bad you look in a bathing suit tomorrow night. For now, you get naked."

Hands shaking in humiliation, I stripped out of my clothes. Julie led me downstairs to the enclosed patio. She pulled back the sliding glass door and pointed to the beach.

"You can swim around all you want. We won't make you come back if you don't want to. But if you're not completely wet when you come back, you have to go back out there. Got it?"

Gasping in terror, I couldn't move. Dominique shoved me roughly out the door, and Julie slammed it shut behind me. I heard muffled laughter from inside the house. I looked back, seeing them all watching me, laughing. Julie pointed to the water.

"Go! You're not getting back in here until you go swimming."

Trying to cover myself, I looked around the area. I didn't see anyone on the beach from where I was, but I could see the lights of the houses nearby and people out on their decks. I took a deep breath and ran toward the water as fast as I could. My butt bounced around as I ran, and I prayed no one was watching me. I got to the water in a few seconds and dove in.

The shock was intense. It was early June, and the water was still cold, probably no warmer than sixty. I felt my whole body tensing up, my nipples getting hard. I submerged up to my neck, looking to see if anyone had seen me. I was too far out from the houses to really tell for sure, but the people I had seen out on their decks would have seen me if they had been watching.

I was soon to shivering against the cold, and started to get out. Then I saw someone jogging up the beach toward me and jumped back into the water. He hadn't seen me, but I had to wait a good thirty seconds until he passed. By then I was too cold to care who saw me, and I ran up the beach toward the house. As I approached, I saw a man on his deck watching me. He laughed and nudged his friend, pointing at me.

I got back to the house a few seconds later, pulling at the door. But Julie had locked it. The girls watched me struggling and laughed.

"Beg, Hippo Buttocks," she said. "Beg me to let you in."

"Please let me in. Please, Julie, I'm freezing."

More laughter.

"What will you do if I let you in?"

"Anything, I don't care. Just let me in, please."

"Okay."

She unlocked the door and I jumped into the house. They laughed at me as I stood there shivering.

"Can I have a towel, please?"

Lori tossed me one as the rest of them continued laughing at me. I dried myself off rapidly, trying to warm up.

"Okay, Hippo Buttocks," Julie said. "You're off for tonight. You can sleep on the couch in here. Get a good night's sleep, because you've got a big day tomorrow."

She slapped me on my frozen butt, making the flab jiggle. Still laughing at me, the five up them retired upstairs. I curled up on the couch, too cold to care about being naked, and tried to sleep.

Shivering from the cold and embarrassment, I didn't get to sleep until very late. I dreamt of blizzards, cold dungeons, faceless tormentors.

The sudden shock of water across my face jolted me awake. I looked up to a familiar face grinning at me cruelly.

"On your feet, Hippo Buttocks!" Julie yelled. "You get five minutes to get cleaned up, then we're going shopping."

I couldn't move fast enough for her, and she kicked the couch, knocking me to the floor. Still stiff from the cold, I staggered to my feet. I followed her to the downstairs shower, telling myself that I would at least have a few minutes to myself for a hot bath.

Or so I thought.

Julie followed me into the bathroom, shoving me into the shower. She reached in, turning on the cold water and making me leap backwards.

"Get with it, Hippo Buttocks!"

Paralyzed from the frigid water, I reached for the controls, but she slapped my hand away.

"No hot water! You're wasting time!"

Fighting the shivers, I tried to wash myself as she watched me, laughing. Dominique appeared in the doorway.

"How's she doing?"

"As fat as ever. Plus she's all sticky and gross."

"Wash that fat ass, Hippo Buttocks!"

I was beginning to go numb from the cold, but I was able to finish washing myself. The instant I had rinsed the shampoo out of my hair, Julie shut off the water and threw a towel at me.

"Move it! You've got two minutes get dry and get dressed."

Dominique handed her a wad of clothes, and she tossed them to the floor. I saw the same spandex miniskirt I'd worn the night before and a white string bikini top. The "Hippo Buttocks" T-shirt was thankfully nowhere to be seen.

I dried myself off and pulled on my clothes. They had not given me any panties, so my butt bounced and jiggled around in the spandex skirt.

The rest of the group had appeared in the room outside, all dressed and looking gorgeous as usual. As soon as I was ready, Julie grabbed my arm and dragged me outside.

"We're going shopping for tonight, Hippo Buttocks. We have to find you the most embarrassing suit possible."

They had let me sleep in until they were all ready to go, so it was after ten o'clock. I followed them back down to the boardwalk, where they searched for a bikini store. Once again, I stood out from the rest of them, older and plainer and fatter than the five teenage vixens I had been cursed with, all hardbodied and tight-assed.

Although the first store had a profusion of string bikinis, the girls found nothing they liked. We left a few minutes later and proceeded further down the boardwalk. The next place we found was a combination bikini/trashy lingerie store, and there they found quite a few possibilities.

The first was a microscopic thong/string top combo, even smaller than the outfit I'd gone rollerblading in. They made me try it on, jeering and gagging as I did.

"That's not striking enough," Dominique said. "Half the girls will have something like that on."

Lori found a skimpy one-piece with virtually no back--just a string thong. Though even more embarrassing on me--the added coverage up top further emphasized my flabby butt and thighs, it got rejected too.

Then Liz appeared with a lime green wad of string and fabric.

"What is that?" Julie asked.

Liz held it up. It was scarcely more than a few square inches of fabric held together by a criss-crossing web of string. I gasped in horror.

"Looks like a sort of one piece bikini," Liz said

"Great. Get it on, Hippo Buttocks."

Knowing better than to argue, I complied. The suit consisted of a small patch over my pubic mound, strings running in back between my buttocks and around my waist, and two narrow straps that crossed my chest over my breasts--actually covering little more than my nipples-- finally tying at my neck. The effect, with my out-of-shape physique, was positively obscene. I would almost rather have been naked than wear something like this in front of a bar full of hooting spectators.

"Oh," Dominique moaned. "That is it. That is it."

"Absolutely hideous," Julie said.

"Revolting," Leslie said.

"Let's get it," Lori said.

I slipped out of the suit and got dressed. I followed the girls up the front and paid for the suit. The girl looked at the suit, then at me, and her eyebrows went up slightly.

"It's for a contest," Julie said. "She's competing at Hooter's tonight."

"Uh, okay."

She took my money and bagged up the suit.

We'd spent enough time shopping that the girls decided they wanted to eat lunch. So they led me down the boardwalk to a hotel, where I bought them all brunch at $12.95 a head. Julie let me eat a small tray of fruit, and I sat there glumly watching them stuff themselves with eggs and bacon and pastries. I had eaten almost nothing for twenty-four hours, and I was beginning to feel faint from hunger.

Julie noticed me watching.

"Hungry, Hippo Buttocks?" she said under her breath. "Want a bite? Not going to break your diet already? Why, I bet you've lost an ounce or two by now."

"I'm okay," I mumbled.

"Good answer. You aren't allowed to eat any more than what I give you. Remember why?"

"Because I have a fat ass."

"Good! You're learning!"

Dominique grinned at me, waving a chunk of Belgian waffle on the end of her fork. Then she popped it in her mouth.

"Mmm. You're missing out, Hippo Buttocks. Shouldn't have let yourself get so fucking fat."

Lori, who was sitting next to me, poked at the bulging flab under my spandex skirt, giggling.

"You've got a long way to go, Hippo Buttocks."

XI.

I paid the bill when they were done eating, and followed them back to the house. They decided to watch a movie on cable, and made me mix them some drinks. After I served the last batch, I felt something cold hit my butt.

I turned around, seeing Lori giggling.

"Did you see that?" she asked her sister. "Did you see how it made her butt jiggle?"

Leslie grinned.

"Turn back around, Hippo Buttocks."

I did, and a second later, another ice cube smacked against my butt. The rest of them laughed, and several more ice cubes came flying at me, all hitting my butt or my thighs. The cold would sting me momentarily as my butt jiggled from the impact. I closed my eyes, fighting the tears.

"Get us more ice, Hippo Buttocks!" Julie yelled.

I went back into the kitchen and filled up a bowl with ice from the freezer. Then I repositioned myself in the living room, facing away from them. Laughing, the girls began pelting me with ice cubes. Any time one of them got in a good shot, hitting me at the right angle to make my butt jiggle, the rest of them would cheer.

It went on for a several minutes, as the tears ran down my cheek.

"She's crying again, the little wimp," Julie said.

"Cry, Hippo Buttocks," Lori said, and the rest of them began chanting, "Cry, Hippo Buttocks, cry, Cry, Hippo Buttocks, cry."

I did, past the point of caring what they thought.

Eventually they got bored with the ice cubes (they made me clean up their mess), and went back to watching the movie. I had to stand at the edge of the living room like a waitress in case they wanted anything. I tried to lose myself in the movie, but Julie saw me watching it and yelled at me to face away from the TV.

"You're not here to watch TV, Hippo Buttocks!"

When dinnertime rolled around, they began getting me ready for the bikini contest. Julie found some nail polish remover, and with it, I was able to remove their graffiti from my butt. Lori painted my fingernails to match my toes, and Dominique gave me a mid-80's mall-rat makeover, dramatically accenting my eyes with bright green eye shadow as the rest of them howled in laughter. Once again, they had made me look like an out-of-work hooker.

I put on the "bathing suit" they had gotten me, trying to maximize what little coverage I could get from the six or eight square inches of fabric. Thank God I kept my pubic hair trimmed--otherwise I would have been hanging out in every direction.

Once the suit was on, Julie produced another spandex miniskirt-- this time in neon green, but gave me nothing to go on up top.

"That suit's enough, Hippo Buttocks."

The rest of them stood back and admired their work.

"That is just obscene," Dominique said.

"Look at the way her butt sticks out of that skirt," Leslie said.

"And her thighs," Liz said. "See how the flab squishes out around the bottom?"

"Disgusting," Julie said. "How can you live with yourself?"

"I'll help you slit your wrists, if you want," Dominique said. "Do the world a favor. Then no one has to look at that fat ass again, especially you."

"Let's not make her cry again," Lori said. The rest of them looked at her in surprise, and Lori grinned.

"She'd ruin that wonderful make-up job, and we put so much work into her look."

The other four laughed hysterically, and I looked down at the floor, dreading what was to come that night.

When we got to Hooters, Julie immediately sought out the manager.

"Our friend is going to enter the bikini contest. What do we have to do?"

The manager, who was a good-looking guy in his late twenties, glanced around at the girls, trying to guess which one of these lovelies was going to enter.

Julie grinned, pointing to me.

"No. Her."

The anticipation in his face evaporated, replaced by disbelief.

"Uh . . ."

"It's open to anyone, right?"

"Yeah, but . . ."

"So where do we sign up?"

He turned back to his podium, and dug out an entry form, handing it to me.

"Entry fee is twenty-five bucks."

I nodded, digging out my credit card and trying not to lose my composure. Julie took the entry form before I could get it. She and Dominique filled it out, giggling to each other. I sighed, wondering what they were up to.

The manager looked the form over, eyebrows going up slightly.

"Okay. The contest starts at nine. Be back by the corner of the stage by ten to nine."

The girls ordered dinner, piles of hamburgers, chicken wings, french fries, and onion rings, all dripping with fat. They apparently ate like this every day, yet if it made any difference in their figures, I was unable to tell. Julie ordered me a small salad, no dressing, explaining that I was on a diet because of the contest. The waitress took the order and paid no attention to us.

As the night wore on, I could see the other contestants beginning to arrive, all of them looking like Playmates. Long legs, tiny butts, enormous silicone-laden breasts, none older than twenty-five. My only hope was to get on and off the stage as fast as possible, knowing the audience would want me out of there so they could get back to ogling all the other girls.

At quarter to nine, Julie evicted me from the table, sending me back toward the stage. I found the spot and stood around self- consciously, trying to ignore the looks of disbelief and disdain from the other competitors.

Just before the contest began, I suddenly lost my nerve. I didn't care what Julie did; I couldn't put myself through this. If I lost my job, I at least had to keep hold of some shreds of my pride.

I turned from the stage, planning to run out the front door. But I ran right into the manager, who stopped me.

"Hey, we're about to start, you need to get lined up with the others."

"Um--"

He herded me back to the group, and my resolve to flee collapsed. One of the assistant managers began lining us up. He took a long look at me, then put me toward the end, apparently not wanting to start out by turning the audience off.

When the contest finally began, I tried not to watch, not that it made much difference. The hoots and cheers and wolf whistles rained down on us from every direction. I could see the other girls eating it up, watching the snotty, self-satisfied looks on their faces as each one returned from the stage.

I suddenly felt like I was in grade school, waiting my turn to present a report to my class, dreading every passing second and praying for some natural disaster, something, anything to stop all of this.

But no relief appeared. Finally there was only one girl in front of me. I slipped out of the spandex skirt, and the assistant manager grabbed my arm.

"Hannah, right?"

"Yes."

"What is this on your entry form? Are you serious?"

I looked at his clipboard. I saw that Julie and Dominique had put my name down as "Hannah 'Hippo Buttocks' Lloyd."

I swallowed hard, feeling my face reddening.

"Just Hannah."

He nodded.

"Got it."

The girl before me finished her routine, and the assistant manager announced me.

"Okay, folks, let's welcome Hannah Lloyd."

As some of the audience cheered, I gathered myself up and climbed onto the stage. Like the day before when I had gone rollerblading, I felt as if I were having an out-of-body experience. I thought I might faint before I finished my walk across the stage. I knew I had to be as red as a stoplight.

The reception I got was not as bad as I had expected, but compared to the howls and cheers the other girls had gotten, it was bad enough. A few guys yelled, "nice bikini!," but in general, I saw a lot of looks of mild disgust. I could feel my butt and thighs jiggling as I danced up the stage, knowing how hideous I had to look. I glanced back toward our table, seeing the five girls gone epileptic with laughter. Then I turned back down the stage, walking as fast I as I could go. When I got back to the stairs, the applause was mild and scattered. But it was over.

Gasping for breath, I leaned back against the wall. One of the other girls patted my arm.

"Hey, that wasn't so bad. That was pretty brave of you."

I tried to answer her.

"Thanks."

"You do need to lose some weight though, if you plan on doing this again. That suit really isn't very flattering."

I nodded and found my skirt. I pulled it on and walked rapidly back to the table. As I approached, the girls all cheered, hooting and laughing. I saw people around us smiling, thinking they were applauding my bravery. I knew better.

XII.

Some girl from Hermosa Beach with bleached blonde hair hanging down to her tiny butt and huge, gravity-defying breasts won the contest. A few guys actually called my name when the managers were selecting the finalists, but I could tell from the laughter that followed that they were only making fun on me. Of course, the girls all laughed hysterically when it happened. But finally they decided it was time to go home.

When we got back, I was sent out for another naked swim in the ocean and thence to bed.

By the next morning, I could tell the girls were getting sick of the routine. They weighed and measured me one last time, again measuring each other to compare. I'd lost three pounds since Friday, which was hardly surprising considering that I'd eaten next to nothing. They made me fix them a big breakfast, but around twelve, the others began packing up to leave.

When Julie and I were finally alone, she made me strip naked and clean the house. I scrubbed the kitchen floor while she smacked my butt with a broom. I vacuumed the living room and wiped up the residue from their two-day party. Then she made me do all the laundry and remake all of the beds. Not until four o'clock was she satisfied.

She found my clothes and returned them to me, letting me dress.

"Well, I had a hell of a time this weekend, Hippo Buttocks. I hope you learned a few things."

I didn't answer her, and she laughed at me.

"Oh, come on, don't be like that. You know this was all for your own good. Have you ever been embarrassed as you were this weekend?"

"No."

"And do you now hate your fat butt and flabby thighs more than anything in the world?"

Well, not quite anything, I wanted to say.

"Yes."

"And are you planning on losing some weight now and getting back into shape?"

"Yes."

"Great! I'm proud of you, Hippo Buttocks. You're officially free to go."

I took a deep breath.

"Julie, whatever else happens, I need that letter. This is more than fun and games. There is a great deal at stake here."

She laughed softly, and across her face spread the sickest, most evil look of satisfaction I had ever seen in my life.

"There is no letter, Hippo Buttocks. I made the whole thing up."

My heart stopped.

"What?"

"I did a pretty good job of it, huh? Sure fooled you."

I gasped several times, unable to form a coherent thought.

"Of course, you realize that means you went through this whole weekend for nothing. You could have left any time you wanted, and there wouldn't have been much I could have done about it. Oh, I could have called my dad and stuck with that story, but sooner or later, someone would have figured out that that letter was a forgery, and then I'd have some serious explaining to do."

I was frozen to the spot, unable to move.

"Of course, none of that matters now, not with those pictures I've got. I bet my dad would be a whole lot more interested in those than in some stupid old letter. I bet he'd be really interested in knowing what the fuck you were doing in his bedroom dressed like that."

She laughed at the anguished look on my face, and reached around to slap my butt.

"Here's how it's going to be, Hippo Buttocks. I'm not kidding about wanting you to lose weight. This Friday, we're going to weigh you again, and if I don't see some serious improvement, we're going through this whole thing again next weekend. Got it? Call it the Hippo Buttocks Workout Plan. So I'd stay away from any real food for the near future, unless you plan on doing the bikini contest circuit."

She grabbed my arm, dragging me to the door, and shoved me outside.

"See you tomorrow, Hippo Buttocks! Better hit the exercycle tonight!"

I staggered to my car, her triumphant laughter chasing me all the way home.

THE END