Falsies

“Oh, I think you do,” Yael’s smile widened. “We heard some interesting things. Like how you’re not quite as… *gothic* as you look.”

“And how you’re not exactly… *that hot* either,” Dorina added, her voice a cruel echo of my own past words.

“What are you going to do?” I asked, my voice trembling.

Yael’s eyes glittered. “We’re going to give you a makeover, Ms. Ivanna. A little… *revealing* makeover.”

The blonde girl grabbed my arms. I struggled, her grip was strong. Yael and Dorina moved in, their hands already reaching for my dress.

“No! Stop it!” I cried.

Yael yanked the dress upwards. The cool air hit my skin, raising goosebumps. My my bra followed. The silicone padding fell to the floor with a *flop*. My small, tubular breasts, with their disproportionately large nipples and areolas, were bared to the harsh fluorescent light. I instinctively crossed my arms over my chest, but Dorina’s pulled them away.

“Oh, my,” Yael gasped, a theatrical note of surprise in her voice. “Look at that. So… *petite*.”

Dorina giggled, a high-pitched, taunting sound. “And those nipples! They’re huge! Like dinner plates on thimbles!”

My cheeks burned. Humiliation, hot and suffocating, enveloped me. I could feel tears pricking at the corners of my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. Not in front of them.

“And the body,” Yael continued, her eyes raking over my pear-shaped frame. “Not exactly the slender, mysterious type, is it? More… *plump*.”

“Look at her tummy,” Dorina pointed, her finger tracing an imaginary line across my abdomen. “Soft and jiggly.”

My bladder, already under duress, spasmed. A warm wetness spread across my inner thighs, soaking into my remaining underwear.