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From: MichaelD38@aol.com
Subject: NEW {MichaelD} "The Price of Success" (Fdom, humil, teen, nosex) (4/4)
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*************************************************
The Price of Success
Copyright 1998 by MichaelD38@aol.com
Free redistribution permitted;
no commercial use without authorization.
*************************************************
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
*************************************************
The Price of Success
Copyright 1998 by MichaelD38@aol.com
Free redistribution permitted;
no commercial use without authorization.
*************************************************
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