get new panties

People mentioned so far:

Me. Dawn, 18, the important person whose feelings are at stake.

Brother. Steven, 19, home from uni for the holidays. I'm not a fan.

Father. Vicar, soft and weak. Can barely be called a man. Not going to validate his existence by saying his name.

Mother. Housewife, somehow manages to be both sickeningly kind and yet constantly ruining my life. Similarly not worth naming.

Aunt Becky. Mother's younger sister. Haven't seen her in years.

Uncle Brian. Aunt Becky's husband. Something like 10 years older than her, already grey haired and has a reputation for being "a bit un-PC", or as we call it in the 21st century, bigoted. And as I'm learning, handsy.

Gregory. Guy from church who recently became the first man to ever touch me down there. And not because I asked him to.

Gem Ladies Status:

85.7% nasty, so I require 8570 points to win.

15 seconds remaining in my third game. I have 5750 points. I currently seem able to score somewhere around 1250 points per minute.

The game is paused, in the middle of a bonus round. The rule is, I must wear my tight black vest top with no bra for just under four more hours to be rewarded with 250 seconds bonus time, minus penalty time, which appears to be calculated at around 15% of any time I spend on my own. Having spent some time on my own, I now have lost 100 penalty seconds, leaving me with 150 seconds bonus time remaining.

As far as I can tell, my current rules are:
Whenever I am not completely honest, my breasts balloon in size - the total growth seems to depend on the severity and subjectivity of the lie. But I can correct my dishonesty with the truth to get them to shrink back down. People who see the growth don't notice it and are made to believe that they grew that large naturally during puberty. My breasts were originally B cup and are currently H cup.

If I try to conceal any part of my legs with any clothing other than the shortest of skirts, it feels like the clothing is on fire.

Aroused older men will apparently grope and spank me. Witnesses will justify the act to themselves, and not blame or judge the men.

Hearing the word 'Amen' makes me have an instant strong orgasm that's difficult to hide. If multiple people say it at once, the orgasm is multiplied in intensity.

First, I retrieve new panties from my room. I'm not going back down there with ones that are already soaked in girlcum.

The most modest clean pair I have is plain and white, so that's what I choose. Feeling fresh and dry down there does wonders for my mood. It feels somewhat like the status quo has been reset. The previous battle forgotten, and a new one beginning.

"She's back!"

A round of applause and some cheers greet me as I re-enter the back garden. I think it's intended to be warm and encouraging, but it just feels patronising. I give a clearly sarcastic smile and wave before heading to the table being used as a bar, to pour myself a drink. Being a good Christian girl who's only just turned 18, I steer clear of the **** and start to make myself a cola.

A surprise slap on the butt makes me spill some onto the table. I freeze for a moment but refuse to look around, having no desire to discover who is the latest gross man to cross what used to be a strict social line.

That anonymous butt **** is the first of many I am **** to ensure over the next several minutes, as I attempt to attend my own party like a normal birthday girl. I settle into a pattern of doing my best to just ignore every slap and squeeze on my posterior. I've given up on earning Nice Points by responding positively - I don't have any spare tolerance remaining to expend on further self-degradation. And I don't actually need any further bonus points to comfortably win the current Gem Ladies game, so there's no urgent pressure to perform.

"I love short skirts." One gross man from church called Malcolm murmurs into my ear as he massages my buttocks. "I hope you wear them more often."

I shudder with disgust. I'm already reaching my limit and I doubt it's even been an hour. I have to lightly bite my tongue to prevent myself from rebuking him.

The garden party is becoming some sick game of follow the leader. I keep trying to find the area with the least old men. But they slowly inch towards me, as if gradually reeled in by a gravitational ****. Soon the region becomes densely populated by perverts, and I have to find an excuse to end my current conversation and casually make my way to a different part of the garden, trying to keep butt gropes (and with increasing frequency as time moves on, titty honks) to a minimum as I squeeze through the crowd of hopeful molestors. 

The entire situation is so surreal that it actually helps me cope with the stress. It's not too difficult to convince myself this must just all be some crazy fever dream. I sort-of detach from reality, just 'watching' myself go through these motions. In this way, for nearly the whole two hours, I am able to handle the situation without earning any more Nasty points.

Catastrophe begins, as always, with Uncle Brian. 

"Where have those nipples gone, eh?”

That's what I hear from behind as hands appear from around my sides and pinch at my nipples through my vest again, stimulating them until they are once again poking through my stretched-tight top like bullets.

"That's better!" He chuckles, mercifully letting go and wandering off.

The effect this has on other men is the real problem. Now able to see my erect nipples jutting out of my massive jugs, significantly more blood is redirected to their loins, and they quickly become more bold. It's less than a minute later that I get my first pussy grab. It's from Malcolm.

The worst part of this unforgivable invasion of my bodily autonomy is that physically, it does feel good when something rubs against my genitals. Somehow, involuntary pleasure is even worse than involuntary pain. I'm paranoid that Malcolm, or others watching, can tell that it feels good as he gently feels me up through my panties. Trying to keep my face neutral is almost impossible with all these strong conflicting feeling built up inside me.

He lets go and I shiver, thankful that it's over. But moments later, another man called Patrick takes over, with even more of a clear intention of masturbating me through my panties, putting a lot of pressure on my genitals through the fabric and making regular circular motions. I make a squeak of indignation but it ends up sounding more like a squeak of sexual pleasure. Gregory grabs my hooters from the front. More men are circling in like zombies, each wanting to feast on my flesh.

Soon, countless hands are on me. My tits, my butt, my thighs, my arms, my pussy. Nothing is spared and there's no escape. My arousal and fury build together, and the only question is which will 'explode' first.

"GET YOUR DIRTY FUCKING HANDS OFF OF ME!"

Today, fury wins. I scream with unrestrained venomosity.

"MY BODY IS NOT AN OBJECT TO BE TOYED WITH!"

The men do release me, and many of the party attendees are gasping in shock and disapproval. For the briefest moment I think I've broken the spell, but it quickly becomes apparent that the disapproval is directed towards me.

"Dawn." My mother says much more coldly than usual. "Apologise. Now."

I've gone way too far already to back down now.

"What, apologise to the CUNTS who are MASTURBATING me in front of you against my will?!"

"Good lord!" Gregory seems genuinely offended by what I just said, as if from his perspective that's simply not the truth of what was happening.

"Go to your room." My mother hisses. She's not messing around - from the way she sees things, I've just crossed several outrageous lines.

"GLADLY." I stomp off into the house and up to my room, slamming doors as I go.

Caused a scene
+5.5% nasty

Insulted party guests
+6.7% nasty

Used the c-word in front of family and churchgoers
+2.0% nasty

Bonus time penalty:
113 seconds...
114 seconds...

Doom. Doom and despair. My time penalty continues to tick up, since I'm not attending the party. I'm at 99.9% nasty - I'd need over 4000 more points to win, which seems unreachable within the remaining (and rapidly diminishing) bonus time I earned.

How long until the four hours is up anyway?

The game doesn't say, and I didn't make a mental note of the time when the bonus round started.

Bonus time penalty:
115 seconds...
116 seconds...

and then suddenly colour returns to the game screen, and it's unpaused. No warning, no way for me to confirm I'm ready to start again, it's just started.

If I was still getting groped, I wouldn't have been able to play and stand a chance of winning anyway! And that's if I'd even have noticed the game unpausing.

I have 149 seconds on the clock... it might be possible, if I do my very best. I try to clear my mind and spend two and a half minutes playing the best game of match-3 I ever have in my life.

At 9755 points, I run out of time.

NOOOO! So close! I just needed two more taps on the screen! This isn't fair!

But there's no appeals process - the app has spoken, and the app's decision is final. I punch a pillow as tears well up in my eyes.

Suddenly jolting upright, I remember just in time - I have a choice to make, before it just chooses all three for me again like last time.

Game Over. Choose a punishment:

Heavy squirter
Embarrassing purse contents
You can never be less aroused than the most aroused nearby person