Life as a good little girl/The box swap goes wrong
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Freds shadow (Talk | contribs) (Created page with 'Into the bathroom you flee, closing the door and locking it. Ever since Joe 'fixed' it the lock has been unreliable at best. This time you don't both to test it, opting instead t…') |
Freds shadow (Talk | contribs) |
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"What... where...? How...?" | "What... where...? How...?" | ||
- | Frantically you turn the box upside down and | + | Frantically you turn the box upside down and confirm your worst fears. Someone forgot to tape the bottom of the box shut. When you picked it up everything in the box stayed in the van. Except... you shake the box and a few scraps of cloth fall out. Tiffany's outfit, a heavily cropped t-shirt that would show underboob if you had it, and a pair of old jeans cropped to the point that they're no longer jeans and hardly worth calling shorts. They're more like a g-string made out of the seams of what used to be jeans. |
"Noooo....." you moan, falling backwards until your head is on the floor. | "Noooo....." you moan, falling backwards until your head is on the floor. |
Revision as of 01:37, 3 November 2015
Into the bathroom you flee, closing the door and locking it. Ever since Joe 'fixed' it the lock has been unreliable at best. This time you don't both to test it, opting instead to splash your face with soap and water, glancing up at your reflection now and then to asses how much of your step-brother's cum is still on your face.
Just as you finish you hear an impatient horn from outside the house.
"Stephi!" Danny calls out. "Dad's here, and he looks real impatient."
"Thanks!" you call back, and look around for a towel. Remembering that it was last seen in your room you stick your head out into the hallway to see if the coast is clear.
Joe honks again, even more impatient.
"Darn it," you mutter. Closing your eyes for a moment you try to screw up your courage. "It's nothing, Stephi. Being naked no biggie. You were practically naked all day in front of strangers."
Opening the door fully you dart out, pass a gaping Mike, and throw open the front door. Operating on a principal similar to 'if I can't see them they can't see me' you keep your head down and run along the front walk until you're at the front corner of the garage.
The horn honks again.
"I'm right here!" you practically scream, and the honking cuts off.
"Quite a set of lungs on that girl," a voice drawls, and you freeze in place, a couple of steps away from the van.
"Stephi!" Joe exclaims. "You're naked!"
"She sure is," old Mr. Addington says, evidently with approval.
"Hey, you're... Stephi, you should have grabbed something to wear."
"Maybe she likes being naked. You a nudist, girl?"
"I... I am... I am..." you stumble, the words 'not' 'sorry' and 'trying to get my clothes back' crashing together in your head. As a result none of them get out.
Addington nods approvingly. "Good for you, girl. It's the natural state of humans to be starked naked in the great outdoors. I'm a nudist myself," the wrinkly old man says proudly.
You're too mortified to grimace and finally unfreeze. For a moment you're stuck between going forward and running back, but the desire for clothes sends you to the back of the van, where you open the doors quickly.
"I know of a good nudie beach near here if you ever want me to take you."
"Bill!" Joe exclaims. "You can't just say that to a girl."
"What? It's a perfectly respectable place. It's not like I was inviting her to an orgy or nuthin'."
"It's just..." Joe's voice trails off. Talking to Bill Addington was often like that, leaving one confused and rattled. You try to ignore them as they talk about the appropriateness of children being naked in public, but your ears are beet red and a rushing fills your ears as your look around for the box.
Spotting a box with familiar writing on it you snatch it from the box. In your panicked state it practically flies up into your arms and your step back, slamming both doors before sprinting to the front door, clutching the box to your chest.
"That girl needs a tan," Addington says, nearly making you trip over the steps.
A moment later you're safe inside. A moment later a wolf-whistle reminds you that safety is relative, and you sprint again, this time to your room.
Oh how you wish you had a door, you think, diving down onto the floor on the side of the bed farthest from the door. Panting from the effort, but smiling ear to ear at having clothes again, you wrestle with the tape on the top of the box, finally ripping it open and yanking the flaps apart.
The smile freezes.
"What... where...? How...?"
Frantically you turn the box upside down and confirm your worst fears. Someone forgot to tape the bottom of the box shut. When you picked it up everything in the box stayed in the van. Except... you shake the box and a few scraps of cloth fall out. Tiffany's outfit, a heavily cropped t-shirt that would show underboob if you had it, and a pair of old jeans cropped to the point that they're no longer jeans and hardly worth calling shorts. They're more like a g-string made out of the seams of what used to be jeans.
"Noooo....." you moan, falling backwards until your head is on the floor.
It looks like Tiffany will be getting her wish that you get a brand new wardrobe.