The Nude Flu

Emma was finally relaxing; her head was finally not pounding; her nose was clear and she didn't look like itself had taken a 20 something starlet for a spin.

Emma looked very nice, in fact, as she put herself together and got ready for her doctor to arrive on one last house call. The last few weeks had been miserable, and she'd barely been out of bed, save for occasional trips to the kitchen and restroom. None of her friends or agents had seen her, staying away at her own insistence.

It wasn't until she pranced over to the door in her white blouse, jeans, and pink socks and slipped her sneakers on, happily humming all the while, that the feeling had begun.

If asked later, amidst her humiliation, she could not describe the pain. Something between itching and burning.....horrible.

But the moment Emma's petite feet nestled into those shoes, she was overcome with an immediate urge to kick them away. Emma's face twisted in agony as her body moved on its own to remove the apparent threat.

She half-realized what was happening at once. But she couldn't place it, even as the sensation spread.

She twisted and ran her hands up and around her sides, clawing for some sort of release, until it clicked in her pretty distraught head.

One foot immediately stepped on the heel of her cute pink socks, ripping it away from an arguably cuter bare foot.

Her toes flexed and scrunched in freedom and immediately returned the favor until Emma was dancing barefoot on the wood floor, and all at once her hands were at the hem of her shirt.

It took Emma just a moment of clarity to open her eyes and realize what was going on. She blushed hotly despite the pain. She was undressing! Here!

Despite her efforts to calm herself, the thought kept running through her head. Gottagetnakedgottagetnakedgottaget-NUDE.

That was new and terrifying and Emma couldn't help her arms from swinging upward and tearing her shirt off her body- and almost in half. Standing now with bra-clad breasts and a bare stomach, she could feel air on her body. She trembled at her exposure in front of the open door. To think she could have set foot outside before this began- not much comfort when anyone could look inside and see her stripping.

Hot tears started to run as a few cars passed by and Emma realized the inevitability that she would be standing nude and barefoot with an open door for at least a few embarrassing seconds.

With her head shaking and her blonde locks tickling her almost-bare shoulders, Emma suddenly squealed as the pain increased and couldn't help but scream as she pulled her pants down off of her waist and from her kicking toes.

She was now writhing on the floor in her underwear and bra, and her hands dove behind her back and tore open her bra clasp. The bra flew away, and her creamy white bare boobs immediately bounced free, rosy nipples hard from all the commotion.

All but naked, she tried to fight the pain but ultimately curled up as she found her panties descending past her knees and off her feet.

Emma was curled up in front of her door, buck naked and resplendent, humiliated as her mind pieced itself back together. She was terrified and suddenly a car honked as it passed by. That was the only thing needed to get naked Emma off of her shapely ass and slamming the door.

She dove into the living room and onto a leather couch, holding her bouncing breasts and with a hand between her legs. Screaming all the way.

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It was only when the doorbell rang that Emma, breathing heavily and hugging the leather upholstery as if it could cover her nude state, realized someone was here. She screamed, and no sooner did the sound escape her lips than the door (still unlocked) was open. A concerned voice called out. "EMMA? Are you okay? I'm here for your follow up."

The doctor!

Emma "eeped" cutely and could do nothing more than turn her bare back and adorable rear end to the middle aged man with spectacles and a white coat who walked into her living room.

She sat there, bare legs and small feet dangling off the side.

"Hi." Emma Roberts said in barely a whisper. Her face could not have been more pink.