Missy Joins The Fray

Missy seemed the least surprised of the three, curiously enough, and so it was her who started forward over the threshold and down toward Meryl. "MISSY!" She cried, when she saw her approach. "HELP ME, PLEASE!!!" With a wince and one last flush of embarrassment directed at Runciter, Meryl turned and presented her ample backside, from which Mr Felnick's dog still hung, jaws clamped tightly onto the lower portion of the right cheek. "Oh, my!" Missy suppressed a giggle, "You've really outdone yourself this time, sis!"

"MISSY!" Meryl wailed.

"Alright, alright, relax." Missy snorted. She raised her hands and hovered over the dog's body. "Just try to, uh...relax?"

Meryl groaned loudly, covering her breasts with her hands and trying her best to hold still. "P-please...b-be...quick!"

Missy nodded, though Meryl couldn't see it, and went to place her palms on the dog's midsection. Sadly, what happened next was not what either of the girls expected; the instant Missy touched Mr Felnick's dog, it broke its grip on Meryl's arse and dropped fully into Missy's hands. She was about to say something smug and celebratory, but then the thing twister around in her grip to face her, and leapt suddenly forward. Now it was Missy's turn to squeal; the dog burrowed into her dressing gown. Its back legs kicked wildly, making the gown fly open to reveal the PJ's she was wearing underneath—modest enough, the bottoms were long and relatively concealing, the vest top supportive and well-fitting. The **** of it made Missy stumble back, and in the confusion Mr Felnick's devious dog snagged onto her top and started to pull. "W—what? W-wait, no don't do—" Missy gasped at the sound of tearing, and the sight of the front of her top ripping and falling down and away from her chest, allowing her own breasts to come spilling out, nipples light and pokey in the cool evening air. They were small but perky, impossibly perky, unblemished save for a small beauty mark on the edge of the left areola. "Jesus christ, what the fuck!" Missy crossed her arms over her own chest, while the dog continued its reign of terror, burrowing further down toward the pyjama bottoms, tugging the waistband aside and wriggling through the gap it had made. "Shit, no, no, no what's it doing!?" Missy was yelling now, **** to leave her chest uncovered to stop whatever the creature was doing in her bottoms. "Meryl! Meryl what the fuck is it—" Right then, Missy's bottoms fell to the ground, legs bare and rapidly goose-bumping, a periwinkle blue thong whose back was so thin it resembled nothing more than a length of string devoured by the large, plump buttocks on either side of it now the only thing left to cover her bottom half. The dog briefly lay trapped and writhing in the loose pile of cloth, before rolling off of its back and emerging, still snarling, and now looking up, eyeing the skimpy blue gusset directly above it. Unfortunately for Missy, it seemed to have developed a nose for girls and their underwear.

It started growling again, pacing edgily in a little circle around her. Missy yelped, all but openly sobbing now, shellshocked and warily anticipating what it would do next. What that turned out to be was an attack on the last remaining layer, it transpired. The dog jumped up and snapped at that little bit of string between her cheeks, then pulled. She shook her head and tugged at the waistband, the harsh jerking motion sending her tits bouncing. "Shit, shit, no, this isn't fair! This wasn't supposed to—" A second harsh tug almost made her lose her footing, but she fought to stay standing and keep her panties up, trembling fingers secured in a tight claw grip around each side of the waistband, though the gusset was already sagging a little, the barest hint of labia visible in the gap between garment and skin. A third tug and Missy could feel she was losing, she repositioned her hands slightly, placing a hand on her baby-smooth bum. "M-mummy?" Missy squeaked in a trembling voice, looking up right before Mr Felnick's dog gave one last mighty pull, shucking her itty bitty, eenie weenie periwinkle blue undies down to join the pyjama bottoms at her ankles. What had been concealed beneath them was a sight to behold; Missy had, for as long as she could remember, shaved. Completely and utterly, so dilligently she had schedule on her phone's calendar to remind her. Every second tuesday she'd climb into the tub and spread her legs wide, making sure every last scrap of curly blonde hair was excised, before posing lewdly for an imagined audience in the mirror.

She was posing now, though not quite so intentionally as she did then. Missy was looking down at the panties now resting in a rumpled pile inside her similarly-fallen bottoms. But those are my...my knickers... was her first thought, But I'm wearing those, aren't I? If I'm not, then that means... Her gaze glid up the smooth, smooth legs, past the curvy, squeezable thighs and came to a rest on her completely denuded pussy. She was screaming before she'd even fully registered what had happened, and it was only a few seconds after that when she finally came to her senses and pressed her palms deep into her crotch, looking back up to where Mrs. Prentiss and Graham Runciter still stood, stock still and bewildered by the scene before them. Their eyes weren't on Missy's face, or even her crotch, they were on the bit she'd forgotten to cover: her full, pink breasts, lovely little nipples already half-extended.