Strip

"Alright, get up and get nekkid."

There it was. Honestly, it wouldn't be the first time the two had done this (or a similar) song and dance. Did not help with the shock or embarrassment, but the second Emi asked for repayment Layla knew this was a likely destination.

"Why? W-what are you going to make me do?" She sheepishly asked.

"Oh, nothing too horrible!" Emi flashed the devil's smile. She raised the canisters and continued, "Just gonna have ya get naked, paint you bronze, and have you stand out in the park on that old pedestal for about thirty minutes. Ya know the one that used to have a statue up on it till those kids broke it? Figure that way I can get a service equal to the cash I dropped on ya, AND give back to the community."

Layla shuddered and began to feel herself panic. Worse still, she felt a tinge of excitement, the shameful kind that always hung out in the recess of her mind. She could have put up a fight, or could have resisted in general. She could have said no, and that would have been the end of it.

Instead, she stood up from the couch, hung her head, and closed the curtains leading into their living room. Emi clapped happily seeing this, and got to work moving furniture. Quickly, she was putting down drop cloths that she had been *kind* enough to get ahead of time.

After the room was prepped, Layla stood before Emi, trembling. She had been lounging in her 'around the house' fit, namely a small grey T-shirt that exposed her midriff, and very short shorts that revealed her thick thighs, and right now, this instant, she wished she had been wearing more layers. She and Emi had seen each other naked before, in fact probably more than was normal, but that did nothing to ease the embarrassment washing over Layla, painting her face red. Grabbing the loose hem of her shirt, the Latina couldn't believe she was going to do this.

But oh, she was--each piece of fabric that slipped from her body revealed more of the tanned landscape beneath. It was a show of freckles that played connect-the-dots across her shoulders, trailing down arms that trembled as they dropped the dainty half-shirt to the ground. She reached behind her back for the clasp of her bra that she hadn't removed when she got home, as it had been 'too much of a hassle' to mess with at the time. The bra--a cage of fabric and wire once holding back the soft swell of her bosom--was now just a memory tossed aside, freeing a pair of near-perfect swelling breasts that bore a gentle defiance of gravity. Her hands then traveled down her curvy waist and towards her shorts, as she bent slightly to remove them.

Layla made the mistake of looking up at Emi, and the eager look of anticipation she wore sent chills down Layla's spine. She felt like a prey animal being watched by a predator. Nonetheless, she persisted, now with a faint tingle in her stomach. Down slid her shorts, gliding gracefully down her thick thighs and onto the floor, revealing her nearly bare womanhood, save for some visible stubble from her not-too-recent shave. Also revealed, as the shorts were driven from the rear, was Layla's plump freckled ass. She could feel it shake a little as she moved the departed shorts off to the side of the room.

"Okay," Layla breathed out, standing bare and expectant, a sculpture-to-be in her natural glory. She could feel her heart drumming a samba against her ribcage, the anticipation painting her cheeks a shade deeper than any bronze pigment could hope to achieve. "You got me naked, so I guess we really are doing this, huh?"

There was a sudden sharp slap on Layla's ass that caused her to jump and let out a girlier-than-normal squeal. She shot daggers at Emi, who stuck her tongue out.

"Oh, we definitely are," Emi said as she began to approach Layla. She was holding the paint in one hand, and a large paintbrush in the other. "Let's get you looking presentable."

-

As the first cold stroke of paint traced her clavicle, she shuddered--not from the chill, but from the anticipation. She knew what was coming; she knew what she had agreed to, but she did not realize how long this would take. Layla also did not consider what the transformation would do to her. Every stroke Emi made on her body felt like a jolt of cold electricity through her body. Every time the bolt ended when it hit her womanhood. Every time, she felt herself getting warmer and wetter. Wait...wetter?