Bare-assed on the con floor.

Terri clutched her hands to her bum, frozen in place and surrounded on all sides by equally dumbstruck onlookers. It didn't take long for a few of them to raise their cameras.

"No! No pictures!" Terri whined. A few listened. Most didn't. They zoomed in on her streamlined hips, her tight thighs, and, of course, her fit, firm butt. Terri was a dead ringer for Tracer; for these nerds, it was a dream come true to get to see her bare ass live and in-person.

One girl in the crowd giggled. She held up her camera to her friend; she'd gotten a clear shot right between Tracer's legs. Her pussy was flushed and even a little spread, revealing her pink inner flower for the brief moment her guard was down.

All the enthusiasm Terri had turned to burning frustration and humiliation. Why didn't one of them help her, like she helped Emma Frost earlier? Why didn't anyone step in to help Ammy, like she helped Sakuya? Why couldn't anyone do anything but take pictures of her bare bum and ruined cosplay?

Where was Terri's hero when she needed them?

Ammy, meanwhile, was sitting calmly on the con floor. A few red and white scraps of panties dangled from the dog's mouth, with the rest in pieces on the ground. She panted happily, but all the attention and cameras were starting to make her nervous again.

"No! No, no, no..." Terri said fearfully. "No more!"

Terri couldn't dog-sit this clothes-eating dog anymore. Not if it meant risking the rest of her leggings, or if she had to take her hands off her butt for even one second. Not when she was surrounded by perverts with cameras. But... how else would Ammy find her owner?