Act of God - Emma W.

(This story continues from Act of God - Emma R.)

The package lay in Emma Watson's driveway, just out of reach.

She looked down at herself. She was wearing a large white men's button-up shirt, long enough to cover her to mid-thigh, and nothing else. On the one hand, she was one of the most famous people in the world, and if the paparazzi got a picture of her without her pants it'd be on the front cover of every magazine in the country by midday. On the other hand, she really didn't want to have to go back to her room and put pants on. And there didn't seem to be any paparazzi around. She looked left and right along the quiet suburban street, making sure that it was empty, and stepped out of the house.

She scurried towards the package, suddenly nervous that she'd made a mistake. What if a photographer was hiding behind the bushes? But she wasn't going to go back now. Better to grab the package and get back inside as soon as possible. The grass felt soft against her bare feet as she crept across the lawn, trying not to make too much sound.

As soon as she touched the package, the top flew open. A jack-in-the-box flew out, a bouncing, grinning clown head on a spring. Emma squealed and fell backward, her bare ass making contact with the grass. Mechanical laughter poured from the clown, and a robot voice began to jeer.

"Surprise! Ha ha ha! Nice tits, Hermione!"

"W-what?"

"I can see your pussy! Ha ha ha!"

Emma, sitting in the grass, looked down and saw her legs spread. Hastily, she closed them and pulled her shirt down over her hips. "What is this? Some kind of joke?"

"Calling all cameras! Calling all cameras!"

"Who are you?"

"Paparazzi will be here in five minutes, Hermione. And you've got no pants."

Emma, startled and confused, picked herself up and began to back away from the box. "I don't know who you are or what you want, but this isn't funny."

"Ring ring. Better get inside, Hermione."

She turned and sprinted for the door, getting there only a second after a gust of wind blew it shut. She rattled the handle, but it was locked. She cast a panicked glance over her shoulder at the laughing clown, which seemed to be enjoying her confusion. "How did you do that?"

"Four minutes, thirty seconds."

"And don't call me Hermione! I hate that! My name's Emma!"

"Better cover your ass, Hermione. Or they're all going to see your witchy little titties."

A tall oak tree stood in Emma's front yard, its branches bending close to her open bedroom window. She glanced at the neighbouring houses, desperately hoping nobody would see, and began to climb the trunk. Halfway up, another gust of wind caught her shirt and lifted it into the air, flashing her grass-stained ass to the street.

"Nice ass, Hermione. Three minutes."

"Shut up!"

"I'm taking pictures, by the way."

"No!"

The window was almost within reach. Emma reached out for it, and another gust of wind grabbed her shirt, lifting it almost to her navel. She squawked, instinctively grabbed for the garment, lost her grip on the branch and overbalanced.

"Two minutes!"

She was dangling upside-down from the tree, her knees hooked around a branch, looking down at a particularly muddy patch of lawn. The good news was that the wind wasn't blowing her shirt up any more. The bad news was that it was slowly sliding down her body.

"No no no no..."

She fumbled to control it, but the cotton slipped seamlessly though her fingers. The shirt slipped down over her hips, past her pussy, past her small pink-nippled breasts and over her head, masking her face and tangling her arms before sliding off entirely and being carried away by the breeze. Emma was now locked out of her house without any clothes on at all. She lurched forward, trying to grab the shirt, and felt her legs slip.

"Eeeee...

Splat.

She picked herself up from the puddle of mud. She'd landed face-first, bruising nothing but her pride. Her beautiful nude body was smeared all over with mud and grass, making her look absolutely ridiculous. She looked down at herself, then at the clown, which said "Thirty seconds."

Emma grabbed the clown head and tore it loose from the spring. It rolled its eyes up at her and said "Big mistake, Hermione." Then it exploded into a burst of colourful smoke. When the smoke cleared, Emma was still nude, but now she was covered in rainbow glitter from head to toe. The remains of the head dropped to the ground at her feet.

"Hey, Hermione! Say cheese!"

Emma looked up, and saw half a dozen men and women with cameras standing in front of her house. They were grinning. She shrieked and tried to cover herself as the flashes began to go off.