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Chapter 16 by Onlysorta Onlysorta

Who could it be? Which lady is molesting us?

Macy, in a sexy Lara Croft cosplay.

The evil woman who exposed us is none other than that perverted policewoman: Macy, who is currently leering straight at my crotch, and having the time of her life doing so.

Regardless of the kinds of humiliation or molestation this wicked lady is willing to inflict on me and everyone I know—like what she's doing right now—I can't deny that she's a real looker, and, while I love a woman in uniform, she is hotter than usual decked out in that Lara Croft cosplay. A V-neck tank top provides an unparalleled view of the lusty brunette's massive rack, and the undersized shorts hugging her hips do an excellent job displaying the policewoman's long legs. But Macy has me at her mercy, and all the sex appeal in the world couldn't make that comforting.

The handsome young men snap yet another compromising picture of us—this one featuring my reddened ass—then laugh, and run like the wind; Raquel, finally having put her prodigious tits back in her bodice, takes chase, and sprints after the mischievous boys trying to make off with those photographs. "Hey, assholes! Get back here!"

Apparently, my best friend found them more immediately important than the woman who stripped us, and leaves Natalie and me alone with the dangerous pervert.

Macy stands a yard away, and her eyes drift over the expanse of my helpless nude form, taking their sweet time to stop at every point that interested her; lingering on my exposed sex longer than anywhere else. I quiver with acute embarrassment under her rapacious gaze.

She leans back, arms folded, with a finger resting on the side of her cheek, checking me out while truly and totally relaxed, as though she didn't just strip me naked in public. "Ooooh~ Ahab, babe, I will never get tired of seeing you like this."

"Oh my God, please let me cover up! Everybody can see!"

I understand how I must look, wearing only my angel wings and thigh-high sandals in a public venue; the only piece of the racy costume that preserved my modesty—however insufficient it was—was caught around my knees, so my dick and bubble butt were on full display to any and all women nearby. Embarrassing barely begins to describe what I feel when a group of hot chicks wolf whistle, and then stop in their tracks to stare.

My only solace regarding the situation is that Macy waited until I reached a portion of the con that had relatively low foot-traffic before she struck— not that there weren't still dozens of ladies nearby to see, or rather, ogle me in all my glory, like Natalie, who is trying to, but incapable of looking away from me; we're both blushing bright scarlet.

Macy giggles, then steps on my side-tie miniskirt, and brings the garment from my sandal-clad knees down to my sandal-clad ankles; I'm alarmed, now that it's so, so far away from hiding my member. Hearing, but unable to do anything about the catcalls and teases from the female onlookers surrounding me, I blush, and hysterically shout, "My skirt!"

"Ahab, Sugar, could you please call it a wrap or something else less feminine? It's not as sexy when you talk like that."

"No way, you lousy pervert!"

My tormentor bends forward, shaking her head as though she were reprimanding a rowdy child, and squeezes my sore ass; I yelp at the unwanted contact, but Macy just giggles, and fondles me some more, with a cruel smile adorning her pretty face. "Hahaha! A sexy guy with two pairs of red cheeks, this is the definition of fun, Darling."

"No it isn't! Hands off my ass Macy!"

Everyone in the hall can see this happening, but none intervene beyond staring, wide-eyed and titillated, cheering or laughing occasionally. No one that is, besides Natalie, who breaks from the crowd once she snaps out of her flustered arousal, and places herself near me and Macy— pressing a finger into the chest of the shameless butt-fondler groping my naked body.

She gives it her college try to look as intimidating as possible while she stares down my tormentor, and somehow fails, in spite of being six-foot-three, green, and musclebound.

"So you're that nasty pervert Ahab talks about! You better get your hands off of him or, or… or else!"

If my hands were free, I would face-palm. What kind of threat was that?

Don't tell me the threat actually works. There's no way it could… right?

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