A Rash Move

Covering Tammi's butt, Lizzie asked what she was doing with her hands.

"I'm trying not to scratch. It's bad enough I'm buck-fucking naked."

"A lot of girls are, too. See?"

"And they're not scratching! Everyone'll notice me more if I'm scratching."

"But you are scratching. Are you scratching your cooch?"

"Do you have to say words like that out here? But, yeah. A little."

"You've forgotten you still have that man's cum on you."

Tammi stopped scratching, stopped in her tracks. She had become totally distracted.

And that wasn't the only thing she had forgotten.

She screamed! "I haven't been taking my pills!!" She forgot about covering her ass as she tore down the busy sidewalk, ignoring what her large boobs were doing. Almost.

Lizzie finally caught up with her at Dad's Cafe. "Dad" Stevens saw her and pointed to the ladies' room. He hadn't needed to do that. She could hear Tammi's cries and whimpers. But she nodded and took a seat in a booth and waited.

"Don't scrub yourself when you have a rash if you can help it," was Tammi's wincing advice on coming out. The makeupless girl in the red spotted 'dress' waddled over and gingerly sat down. The booth back covered her backside and, as long as she leaned down, the table hid her nipples and lap. She was grateful the cushions were covered in imitation leather plastic. It didn't have the weave-pattern that the most severe Nudity Virus victims reacted to.

"If you were wearing body paint, you would have worn half of it off, huh?"

"I guess." She then had a horrendous thought. "If I had, the colors would be dulled and lifeless! I still remember that cop's ass."