Office Aftermath

a bit of the fallout after Office Feud 2. less fighting, more sex and humiliation.

Michael took Michelle to his room, offering her his shower. She thanked him and quietly slipped into it, leaving his coat behind and showering off her burned, scarred, and generally filthy body.

She came back looking like a broken angel to Mike, beautiful but battered in some way all over her body. Her breasts were visibly beaten if not broken, with old scars and fresh cuts of various sizes over them. Bright red flesh marked the top of one of her jugs, burns from the sandwich maker that had flared up again on her left breast, no doubt burned further by the hot water. The injury looked inflamed, and would was visibly marked in the pattern of the sandwich-maker's pattern. After being crushed in both this fight and her last, it drooped noticeably lower than her right. Several of her wounds had stopped bleeding by now, but her tits hung almost limply from her chest, the fat and muscle inside clearly and severely damaged.

There was still a bit of blood stuck in her hair from the heavy blows to her head and face, and she had a bit of a limp as she walked back to the bed from all the shots to her groin and legs. She walked past him and brushed a hand lovingly over his chest, only to sit on the bed and wince as Mike recalled one of her last punishments being a red-hot spanking from an overheated spatula.

"You look so sexy," Michael said softly, touching her fingers as they left his chest. She smiled back, shifting uncomfortably on the bed as she put on her best bedroom smile.

"You're lying," she said, meeting his eyes softly in her shameful state. Mike shook his head, sitting down next to her. She rested a hand on his thigh, stroking it dangerously close to his privates. "Prove it..."

She leaned in and kissed him deeply, lips merging together and quickly followed by a sharp, short intake of breath when her broken nose brushed against his. He wrapped an arm around her naked waist, holding her against him before she could recoil from the pain and instead she relaxed into him, keeping the kiss going. Michelle broke it at last to look down and start unbuttoning his shirt, kissing at his face and chest as she saw fit. Despite all her pain and fatigue, she seemed plenty aroused and aggressive about it.

Mike reached down to cup one of her breasts, molding it in his palm. It was soft enough that it almost felt like a liquid in some parts, rolling between his fingers. The deep wound from the blade rippled from his groping, and Michelle gave a long, pained moan.

"I'm sorry," he muttered quickly, but she shook her head defiantly.

"Don't stop," she breathed back, keeping up her act of undressing him to match her own naked body. He took her suggestion to heart, palming and rubbing the breast, even his fingers running over the injury. She let out bigger and louder moans, though not all of them painful this time. Her hips pumped anxiously, and one leg wrapped up onto the bed. He could see the many bruises and claw marks around her pussy from the fight lingering around her swollen pussy. He moved his other hand up to take her other breast in hand, rubbing and mashing them together.

"That's it, big boy," she gasped back, eyes going wide and fluttering from his aggressive and shocking touch against her burned and busted breast. "Show me what you've got. Give it to me good. I can take it!"

Her wild expression and dirty talk got him excited further, but he had to wonder how much of this was proving herself to him. Showing that even after all the beatings and stabbings, she could still fuck like a pro. He didn't need much reason either way if she was this into it, and he kept his hands glued to her tits until she managed to free his cock from his pants.

He slipped out of them, letting her gently urge him backward onto the bed. He laid back with his prick high and hard, almost upright in his position as she crawled up to him on all fours at the foot of the bed. She focused on his hips, kissing and softly stroking his cock before she took it into her mouth, sucking up and down with soft, wet slurping noises. As he fucked her mouth, he found her fascinating to watch. Her black eye and scratched and scraped face wrapped around his erection, her red eyes looking up at him for approval. He couldn't help but moan from her oral skills, gently cupping and kneading his balls to accompany them.

He also watched with fascination as her sagging tits squished around as she went up and down on him, flopping loosely and slapping against the bedsheets. The once proud and perky jugs now hung weak and broken, the old simile of "like fried eggs nailed to a wall" coming to mind with their limp nature. Still, the nipples on their tips stayed hard, tracing over the bedsheets as they hung lower than she could reach when she was at her highest in this position. It was a testament to how huge and powerful they were once, taken from her by the night's awful encounter.

She finally took her mouth off of him against, stroking the spit-covered hardon and stroking it firmly in one weary arm. "You like it?" she panted, Mike's wide and fluttering eyes all the assurance she seemed to need. "You like that, Big Mike?" she purred persistently, loudly kissing at his shaft and head.

She kissed her way up his stomach and chest, her bruised body sliding up his. He saw her slightly wince and shudder now and then at the surges of pain, her damaged breasts and belly rubbing against him as she went. She finally kissed his face with her swollen and bruised lips. Her hard nipples dragged over his chest as she straddled his hips, and she gasped at every slightest twitch between them, the pain and arousal clearly overloading her senses.

Michael ran his hands up from her hips, running his hands over her swollen and hanging breasts. Michelle gave a loud, sharp wail as he did, enough that he almost stopped before she nodded excitedly. She grinded against his erection until Mike urged her down at the right angle, using her drooping wounded tits for handles. She gasped and shuddered like a virgin as he entered her, though clearly not from her tightness so much as her sensitivity. She'd had several men inside her already that night alone, to say nothing of their first vicious throwdown at the office. He slid in firm and slow, and she seemed absolutely wild for it, shuddering violently when he squeezed her purple-red breasts.

"That's it. That's it. Just like that, Mikey," she panted, bouncing up and down on his erection at an increasing pace. He held her hips to keep her weakened body steady, allowing her to focus on humping up and down on his shaft. Her wetness was audible with each deeply pumping thrust, more sensitive than ever from all the scratches and intrusions from earlier.

Michelle rode faster and harder, giving small twists of her hips to add extra attention to the shaft inside her. The whole odd but erotic display kept Mike hard and thrusting until she felt him cum inside her. The burst of wetness and warmth got a husky grunt out of her, almost doubling over before she returned the favor, cumming with him as she kissed him heatedly. He pulled at her hair and fondled her chest, urging on her passionate cries as she writhed against him, finally falling exhausted and limp against his chest.

"You have no idea how much I needed that," Michelle panted as she collapsed limply against him.

"I think you made it pretty clear," Michael replied, stroking her hair assuringly.

After a few days, the women were due to return to work. Michelle was a sight in her office attire, slightly more conservative than usual. Her various scars and bruises were still visible, and she had a tighter bra on than normal to keep her breasts from drooping too far. It certainly didn't go unnoticed.

"Nice pair you've got there, droopy," Crystal mocked as she went by, snickering from her desk. Any talk like that wouldn't have gone unanswered by the alpha bitch Michelle, but now she just blushed and avoided eye contact as she went about her work.

"Well look who's not so big, proud and firm now," Stephanie gloated, loving seeing the busty bitch taken down a peg. She had hated and fought with Michelle herself not that long ago, so it felt great to rub her nose in her own ruined body.

"Leave me alone," Michelle muttered, protectively hugging her chest. It just made her breasts shift and jiggle more noticeably, showing off their sag.

"Wow, you look like you lost a titfight with a steamroller!" Steph laughed, getting more laughter from the nearby employees. Steph tried to ignore them, hoping to focus on her work but every now and then catching another comment from Stephanie to her coworkers, the group bursting into laughter at her cracks about "scarface" and "grandma tits."

Michelle just seethed over in the cubicle all day, quietly and angrily enduring the insults.

As the night shift went on, Michelle got up for lunch only for Steph to step into her way. "Where are you going to?"

"It's my lunch," Michelle sighed dejectedly. "I was going to eat out."

"Damn right you were," Steph laughed, grabbing her by the hair. Michelle was still sore and couldn't resist much as Steph shoved her to her knees. She shoved Michelle's face into her crotch, grinding it against the crotch of her skirt. Their coworkers laughed and gathered around to watch the humiliating show.

"That's all the lunch you need, isn't it, no-tits? Munching on bush like the slut she is." Steph went as far as lifting her skirt and dropping her panties, burying Michelle's face into her crotch and grinding against her wincing features.

"You like that, bitch? Must feel reaaaal familiar by now, huh?" Steph went on, squeezing her thighs around her face to stuff Michelle into her bush. "Getting hungry, aren't you slut? Drooling over seeing a pussy that's not covered in scars and diseases?" she cackled.

Michelle let out muffled shouts of protest, but the employees could all see she was powerless to stop her, or any of them that would want to. Steph finally seemed to prove her point, Michelle getting up sputtering and spitting with a sour expression.

"One more thing," Steph added, wrapping an arm around Michelle's neck and pulling her back to her. She grabbed a set of scissors from the nearby desk, Michelle gasping and wriggling to try and get free as she stared fearfully at the blade.

"Relax, I'm not cutting you," Steph grinned wickedly, snipping it up front of her blouse instead. It sheared the fabric of her top easily, and then caught and snapped out the elastic in the front of her bra. Steph's tits flopped out into view, drooping in their pathetic glory before the coworkers. They laughed and jeered, some stepping forward to grope and squeeze the painfully beaten and sagging jugs. The branding burn marks, slashes and bruises were all over her chest, perfectly visible to them all. Steph held her back and trapped her arms, letting the men all have their way with slapping, pulling, squeezing, and pinching at her aching breast and nipples.

"Now get a move on, cow cunt," Steph snapped, slapping Michelle on the ass aand shoving her away. The other men around the office took the opportunity to pinch or grope her as she went by, Michelle making no real resistance to them as she tried to hurry from her own workplace, powerless to stop them. She could fix the top with a few spare buttons, but it would trashy and she'd still have no bra to wear all day.

"This isn't over, you bitch," she hissed to herself more than anyone in the office, hugging her tender chest and trying to shake off the smell of Stephanie's sweaty cunt. One thing that was clear; things couldn't stay this way for long without exploding again.

Maryjane Watson vs Gwen Stacy

a catfight between Spider-Man's girlfriends. don't ask me how it fits the cannon, because it probably just involved Mephisto fuckin around again.

Mary Jane Watson was the only girl in Peter Parker's (aka Spider-Man's) life... at least, unless you counted Gwen Stacy. They both knew his secret identity, they both were completely in love with him, and most importantly to them, they had both already slept with him. What was more, Peter couldn't bring himself to decide between them, and with his business being saving the world, sometimes it was hard to blame him.

Eventually, Peter was called away from New York. Some Avengers business with ice giants or something. He had been in a bit of a hurry when he left, but he mentioned he'd be gone a few days at least. He stopped by long enough to kiss them both goodbye and was off like a red and blue shot. This, both women realized, was their best chance to get Peter for themselves. Gwen happened to be the one to act on it first; she texted MJ with "We need to talk about Peter."

The women agreed to meet at MJ's apartment. It was a bit on the small side, but plenty of room for a single tenant. But the girls wanted privacy, and it was the best they could arrange with Mary Jane living on her own. It was a tense moment when Gwen stepped into her home, but in truth neither girl was going in with plans to fight. They suspected that the other might, of course, so it wasn't out of the question that they'd have to defend themselves if the other started something. Not wanting a fight didn't mean that both girls were lacking in anger and hatred for the other.

Gwen dressed in a simple white t-shirt for the visit, with a nice red skirt underneath it. She popped off her shoes to enter the apartment barefoot, just like MJ on the warm Summer afternoon. Mary Jane was wearing a black tanktop with her long red hair draped over her shoulders, and a denim skirt beneath. They both sat on the couch, MJ telling her to "Come in" and making no other gestures of hospitality.

"So what's this about Peter?" MJ asked bluntly when they had settled in and let their quiet stares linger for a bit.

"I think you know," Gwen replied curtly. "You and him have been spending way too much time together for my liking. Peter's MY boyfriend, and I don't want you seeing him."

MJ smirked and scoffed at the demand. "You!? You're a flavor of the week for when he has a blonde kink in him."

"He was mine first," Gwen insisted, leering at her. "And he always comes back to me."

"He ditched you for me first chance he got after he saw me," MJ grinned back. "The kid knows an upgrade when he sees it. Just because you can't get his 'spidey sense' tingling anymore..."

Gwen clenched her fist at this, though mostly just out of instinct. She hadn't been in a fight since she was a child, and didn't exactly consider that experience. Little did she know (but lucky for her), MJ was in the same boat. Spider-Man's life was far more action-packed than she would ever dare to consider hers, where an argument with an ex was about the worst she'd gotten into.

"He's much more attracted to me than some rust-headed, man-stealing slut!" Gwen fired back. "You should hear the kind of shit he tells me about you."

"Likewise," growled MJ, turning on the couch to aim her body directly towards the competing girl. "I didn't know it was possible to start sagging already at your age."

Gwen leaned on one arm on the couch, subtly placing her body closer to MJ. Both were getting riled up now, their distrust towards eachother starting to boil over quickly.

"Keep mouthing off, bitch. I came here because I'm not afraid of you, and I know who Peter's going to stick with."

"And what, you saying I'm scared of YOU, blondie? Because I'd sooner destroy you than let you spend another minute with Pete!"

"You try and stop me, you thieving cumdumpster" Gwen hissed back, apparently the last button to be pressed before the girls lost their tempers completely (not that it would stop them from trying). MJ lashed out and slapped Gwen hard across the face, enough to for the noise to ring through the entire apartment. Gwen's head jerked to one side and her mouth hung open in shock, the red mark across her one cheek where the slap had landed perfectly. Her hand went to the sore cheek as she stared back at MJ in shock.

"Listen, you mouthy little shit," Mary Jane said with a punctuating jab of her finger. Peter is my man, and NOBODY fucks my man but me. So you'll watch your mouth, get your prissy little ass out of my place, and stay the hell away from-"

Her rant was cut off when Gwen's expression went from shock to fury and she backhanded Mary Jane back, giving her a mark across her cheek to match her own. “And nobody fucks with ME!” Gwen snapped back, glaring angrily back at her. MJ had her own moment of shock, but by then her blood had boiled and she flushed red as she tackled straight into Gwen. With both girls sitting on the couch, it was far from graceful, and Gwen thumped her back against the armrest behind her with MJ on top. Gwen growled back and kicked at her, only for MJ's legs to get in her way blocking as much as they were targets. Their arms shoved and scratched at eachother before Mary Jane got a grip on Gwen's hair.

Gwen gave a shrill scream as MJ twisted it bitterly, but swung her knees up into the redhead to force her off of her and onto the floor. MJ kept her grip on her until she the floor, so while she was forced off, she still tore a few strands from her scalp. Gwen winced but rolled up to check on Mary Jane, who was shaking her head and trying to regain her bearings. Gwen didn’t feel like giving her the chance to inflict more pain on her, so she dropped herself off the edge of the couch with her knee slamming down onto MJ’s chest.

“AOOOGH!” The redhead rewarded her attack with a pained huff, the wind knocked out of her lungs and her tits flattened against her chest.

"That hurt your ugly slutudders?" Gwen hissed bitterly, twisting her weight around to grind her knee harder against her. Gwen grabbed MJ by the collar of her shirt, still leaning on her chest and stretching the fabric between her chest and neck.

"You don't wanna go through with this, red," Gwen warned in a low growl, strange to hear coming out of the cute blonde. MJ looked back at her fiercely regardless, the redhead throwing a sudden cross to Gwen's face. She gave off a loud, feminine grunt and started to fall off, but she caught herself on Mary Jane's collar and caused a loud tear to slide down the front of the shirt. Gwen stopped her fall, but rose to her feet as she viciously pulled on the top, splitting it down the front like a crude vest.

"My top! You fucked up my top, you little cunt!" Mary Jane shouted at her furiously. It was just a plain black t-shirt, but it was new, and she really didn't need any more reason to hate the blonde bitch. MJ's matching black bra was exposed, the red of her embarrassment and anger flowing over part of her lightly freckled breasts.

"I wouldn't worry about your top after what I'm going to do to you, you dick-stealing skank!" Gwen snapped back, throwing the handful of torn shirt aside. She stormed forward to try to stomp Mary Jane into the floor, but she was more prepared this time. She swung her bare foot in a rising arc, her toes burying themselves under Gwen's skirt and right into her pussy.

The kick hit Gwen hard enough to make her double over and release a quick gasp, knocking the air right out of her as she froze in pain. MJ boosted herself back upright and grabbed Gwen's head under her arm, squeezing it tight and pulling back to keep her in line.

"No smart mouth on you now, huh bitch?" MJ grunted, breathing heavily as she snuck a sucker punch into Gwen’s hanging breast. It got a groan out of her but Gwen made no other efforts to fight back yet, her hand cupping her crotch weakly. Maryjane reached behind her rival for Peter's affections, flipping up Gwen's skirt and yanking her panties down to her knees.

"I'm gonna give you what your daddy should have a long time ago!" she threatened before smacking a hand across her ass. Gwen shouted in shocked pain, shaking her head and trying to pull free. MJ stumbled and lost some of her balance, but she held on and landed several more loud slaps to her bare cheeks. Gwen screamed from the outrage and stinging pain in her ass, twisting herself to yank on Mary Jane's leg. They split apart a bit, enough for Gwen to reach under her skirt and dig her claws into MJ's pussy through her panties and squeezing hard.

"AOOOH!" Mary Jane howled out painfully, suddenly releasing Gwen as she grabbed for her wrist, trying to pull it from her panties. Gwen pulled and twisted, hearing the thin fabric of her underwear tearing underneath her skirt. MJ shuddered and tried to stagger away, but Gwen grabbed the hem of her skirt to stay with her and keep on her clamping grip to crush her labia.

Mary Jane started to feel nauseous from the pain, grabbing onto a wall to stay hunched over as she was. "That how Peter touches you, you fucking cunt?!" she snapped as her nails stretched and tore at her panties and pussy lips. "I'm gonna wreck that pussy so you'll never fuck again! You're going to need to put road work signs up around your bush!"

MJ suddenly got a hand up to Gwen's face and scraped her nails over her eyes and lips. The blonde screamed and gave one last tearing pull as she backed off, ripping MJ's skirt off in the process. Her dark panties were torn in several places, patches of pale skin and red pubic hair showing through the holes.

"SHHH... FUCK!" MJ cursed lowly as Gwen staggered back holding onto her skirt. Her clumsy steps flashed Gwen's own bare thighs and blonde bush beneath her skirt. With Gwen stunned and blinded, Mary Jane could rush up, yanking down the blonde's skirt in one quick swipe. Gwen's hands went blindly down to her crotch for protection, only for MJ's hands to forcefully shove their way under her bra, digging her nails into Gwen's jugs. The blonde gave an ear-splitting screech as MJ pulled and twisted on her flesh.

"Fucking whore! Let go!" she howled, MJ uncaring for her screaming demands. Mary Jane was surprised when the pain and rage egged her on to slam her fist into the redhead's face, rapidly pounding into her cheekbone. MJ winced and backed off, but tore at her handful of Gwen's breasts upward, tearing her bra and shirt off in one scratching swipe. Gwen shrieked clawed back vengefully, just missing MJ's own impressive rack but catching onto her bra and panties instead. The both yanked back until both girls were had the last of their clothes torn from their bodies.

Both stood in front of eachother, naked and visibly steaming mad. The angry red gashes and dull purple bruises on their bodies stood out on their fair skin, eyes wide with wild hatred. "That was my pussy, you bitch!" Mary Jane shouted at her furiously.

"You didn't have a problem kicking me there!" Gwen screamed back. "I'm going to beat you shitless so that no one will fuck you, let alone Pete."

"Even Mysterio couldn't make your fat ass look good!" MJ spat back, suddenly lunging at Gwen. Her fingers went to bury themselves in her hair, but Gwen caught her by the wrists. The girls struggling ineffectively back and forth in that position a few seconds, grunting and shoving a bit before Gwen saw an opening and slammed a knee up into MJ's naked crotch.

"OHHH!" she blurted out, making an unflattering face as it distorted in pain. Her arms turned weak in an instant and Gwen was able to shove her backward, letting her land flat on her back on the floor.

MJ was too slow to rise as Gwen pounced on her, straddling her waist and throwing wide slap across MJ's breasts. The big pale jugs bounced to one side then the other with her pelting smacks, juggling and jiggling them all over. WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! MJ was reeling from the blows to her tits and privates, but she leaned further back kicking frantically at the air while Gwen went to town on her tits, slapping and scratching at her jugs. The redhead finally got her legs around Gwen's neck after a few tries, locking her heels under her chin and pulling to slam her head into the floor.

Gwen's skull bounced off the ground from the impact, moaning and holding her head. MJ scrambled out from underneath her, hands going to her tender chest for a moment but too caught up in their frenzy to stop attacking. She gave Gwen a kick in the ribs, rolling her onto her stomach so MJ could climb on top of her back. She slid one arm under Gwen's neck and pulled up, bending her back underneath her hips while pulling up in what she'd approximated as a chokehold. It was hard to be sure, but Gwen's gasps and choking noises sounded promising for her success rate. Gwen kicked and squirmed under her as she regained some of her wits, reaching up to scratch and pull at MJ's arm ineffectively.

MJ pulled up on her neck more securely, wrapping one hand around to gouge her fingers in Gwen's face and pulled up sharply. It scratched over and inside her face, with the added benefit of catching on her nostrils and forcing them to bend into more of a humiliating pig's snout. "Damn, I wish I had a mirror to let you see how ugly you look. But you must not have any around because you realized that a long time ago! Must be why Peter left you to fuck a model instead."

Gwen Stacy seemed to have enough and pulled harder on the strangling arm, biting into her fingers just above the knuckle. "YOWW!" MJ pulled her hands back to grip her fingers, lightly marked from Gwen's resisting bite. Gwen was able to throw an elbow back, landing against one of Mary Jane's slashed up tits. She grunted and fell to one side as she hugged her swelling breast to her body, propping herself up against the foot of the couch. Gwen moved quickly to sit on the couch behind her, wrapping her legs around her head to trap her there and finally succeeding at stabbing her nails into MJ's scalp. She pulled and tore at the handfuls of long red hair until they were stretched to their limit or strands came off at the root, MJ screaming in outrage.

"My HAIR! You fucking shiteating whore!" Mary Jane cried at her, tears forming in her eyes from the countless minor stings and pains throughout her head. She grabbed at Gwen with her limited reach, scratching over her thighs and legs desperately.

"Let me know how that modeling career goes when you're fucking bald, slag!" Gwen shouted back at her, slapping her face before going back to her hair.

"You wanna pull hair, fucker?" MJ hissed through grit teeth, reaching up between Gwen's thighs and grabbing whatever her fist could take of the puffy blonde bush and pulling like she was helping Aunt May weed her garden. She came out with a fistful of the light blond pubes, and Gwen shrieking as her legs popped back open, rubbing the sore and tender flesh. "THAT'S how you pull hair!" MJ shouted back at her, throwing the bright red pubes aside and grabbing one of Gwen's legs. She threw it over the arm of the couch, spreading them wide like an eager whore. Instead, she delivered a short, hard jab into her pussy, knuckles digging into the parting lips of Gwen's freshly sheared mound.

Gwen let out a sickly gagging noise as MJ effectively punched her in the clitoris, sending a shock of pain up through her spine and belly. Gwen flopped like a fish from her perch on the couch, too stunned to even cover herself up when Mary Jane sent a second punch into her twat. A weaker groan came from her victim this time, twitching and spread wide in front of MJ.

"Peter's not going to want a little peach like that," MJ sneered. "It's all bruised." She looked up as Gwen started to groan and rub her stinging bush. "Doesn't mean I won't have a bite myself!"

The redhead leaned forward and spread her mouth wide, biting into a fleshy mouthful of Gwen's pussy lips. She reared her head back sharply, tearing at the tender labia and getting a horrified scream out of the blond.

"MY PUSSY!" she shrieked. "HOLY SHIT, GET OFF YOU FUCKING COW! OH FUCK! OH FUCK!" she gasped frantically. Gwen spasmed in pain, recoiling to try and escape before suddenly her foot shot forward, crushing her heel into MJ's face. Blood spurted from her nose as MJ hit the floor, both girls coughing for air and nursing their various injuries.

Gwen massaged her crotch while MJ gingerly touched at her smashed nose, both bleeding from their fresh injuries and the tearing claw marks at their breasts. They only got a few breaths in  before Gwen kicked at MJ, thumping the side of her head. The redhead shoved the leg away, grabbing Gwen around the waist and pulling to slam her down to the carpet along side her. She leaned over and hammered several punches into the blond's belly, forcing a sharp gasps from her with each shot. Gwen suddenly grabbed one incoming fist and pushed it aside, forcing it to the ground. Mary Jane scrambled for her position, throwing a quick and bitter slap into Gwen's pussy. She hissed at the hit to her tender groin, but used her position to slide her legs around Mary Jane's waist and clench her leg together.

"Auuughh!" MJ howled out as Gwen grit her teeth and leaned back, pressing her legs together as tightly as she could. The redhead's feet kicked frantically behind her, banging on the carpet as the crushing legs pressed on her lower ribs and insides.

"Nnghh... I didn't think you could even close your legs, whore," she hissed, sinking her nails into Gwen's calf muscle. The blond winced but twisted her body, corkscrewing her legs a bit to make the body scissor that much more painful for her rival. MJ writhed in her hold a few more seconds, seeming ready to crack when she lashed up with both hands and sank her other set of nails into Gwen's tit and squeezed like an aggressive dairy farmer.

"UHNN!" Gwen gave a pained grunt as her breast swelled up at the end from MJ's heartless crushing, distracting the blond into loosening her leg lock. MJ took the opportunity to lunge towards her, using the grip on her breast to sink her teeth into its swollen nipple.

"AIIIEEE!" Gwen shrieked as she felt MJ's teeth crush her tit, twisting her head to grind the teeth over her flesh. Gwen kicked and shoved frantically, nails gouging and pushing at the redhead's face. She left some deep scratches over her freckled features, but Mary Jane kept growling and drooling over her, muffled curses and insults coming through her mouthful of breast. Gwen finally changed tactics, wincing and sweating from the agony as she reached underneath MJ's face. She grabbed her by the neck and stuck her thumbs into her throat, squeezing whatever felt the most tender down there.

She was quickly rewarded when Mary Jane started sputtering and coughing up saliva over Gwen's breast. Disgusting, but effective, and neither of the naked girls felt too concerned with their looks or dignity right now. Gwen was able to force the choking model's face away from her tits, fixing one hand to her neck while the other pulled back on her long hair.

"So how's that modeling job again?" Gwen snarled, just before she bit into Mary Jane's cheek. MJ screeched as Gwen gnawed and pulled on it like a chew toy. MJ tried to pull away but the blond was locked onto her like some sadistic kiss. MJ slapped and shoved at her face, driving Gwen back at last from her neck. Mary Jane's cheek had indentations from the bite, and some light blood running down her face from some of the marks.

"You sick fuck! My face!" MJ fumed at her, slapping one of Gwen's breasts fiercely as her other hand held her bloodied cheek. Gwen replied by grabbing one of her rival's bright red nipples and twisting it between her fingers like she was trying to unscrew it from her chest.

"Call it an improvement, you ugly tramp!" she snapped back. MJ shuddered from the pain and delivered an uppercut too Gwen's right tit, letting it jiggle rapidly before slowing to a stop. Gwen winced and cried out in pain, but didn't release her nipple twisting grip. She instead grabbed its twin, pinching and rolling them violently in either direction as if she were tuning a radio. Though it changed the volume on MJ's screams of agony, she grabbed the sides of Gwen's chest, squeezing and dragging her nails over the flesh and muscles there.

Gwen squealed in her own miserable pain, the girls pulling on eachothers' tits while trying to retreat themselves, just adding more pressure on eachothers' breast attacks. MJ broke the stalemate when she leaned forward suddenly, biting for Gwen's face. Her teeth snapped at her, Gwen dodging the first gnashing of her teeth but a second try catching onto her bottom lip and biting down on it.

"EEEEE!" Gwen squealed wordlessly as both girls tasted blood from the intimate bite. She dropped her grip with one hand, using it to punch MJ in the belly. When the redhead grunted and released her bite, Gwen paid her back in kind, snarling and biting into MJ's own lips. MJ let out a mumbling growl of pain as Gwen twisted her head, stretching and tearing at her lips in payback. MJ took hold of Gwen's blond locks on either side, dropping her swollen pale tits to instead rip her head back and forth by the chunks of hair, rocking her neck violently with both of their heads whipping around until Gwen gasped and her hands reached up to her own hair to relieve the pain. Released from the lip lock, MJ spat in the blond's face, seeing the blood in her saliva as it slapped into her cheek. Gwen crawled back on her ass as she wiped the spit away with the back of her arm, both girls breathing heavier with rage, pain and fear as things only seemed to escalate.

"I'm not stopping," MJ growled.

"The fuck if I am!" Gwen snapped back readily as  the girls checked their freshest wounds without taking their eyes off the other. "Peter's mine. He doesn't need a weak bitch like you weighing him down."

"No, he needs a girl who can actually get him off. Not a boring-ass blond who can't fight for her man, let alone fuck him right."

"Maybe I should show you how good I can fuck him using your face for a practice dummy."

"Not once I use those little tits for punching bags!"

With their frenzies properly wound up again, MJ lunged for Gwen Stacy. Gwen backed up a pace to avoid her grabbing hands, throwing a lucky hook across MJ's jaw. The redhead landed bent over the sofa cushions, stunned as Gwen grabbed her by the hair to hold her down. She used her knees to shove MJ's legs further apart before she smashed a fist up through her crimson bush and into her pussy.

"UGHHK!" MJ let out a sickly noise as her punch went into her twat, shuddering against the couch while Gwen went berserk, landing her flurry of punches as fast as she could dish them out on her defenseless pussy. Mary Jane at last grabbed the wrist buried in her hair, twisting and pulling on it to toss Gwen forward. She bounced off the couch, landing on the ground next to her opponent who still held onto her arm. MJ shifted herself to sit back onto the couch, pulling up on Gwen's arm as it wrenched behind her back. Gwen screamed and thrashed and tried to roll back over, only for Mary Jane to send a stomp into her tits whenever she got too far and forcing her back down to her belly or side.

MJ seemed to have her right where she wanted when Gwen twisted sharply, biting into the redhead's ankle. The expected scream rang out, and Gwen pulled hard on the leg to hurl MJ off the couch. Her face landed with a dull thud on the floor, holding her face as she rolled slowly to her back. Gwen pounced on top of her, clawing at her face wildly. The girls rolled over the floor grabbing at eachother before MJ caught her knee on one side of them, bracing herself and landing two quick punches across Gwen's tits. The abused jugs bounced as the blonde let out some pained cries, but she grabbed Mary Jane's hips to pull herself up and bite into the fat at the bottom of one of her breasts. Mary Jane gave an almost lusty groan from the pain in her already bruised and bloodied chest, eyes fluttering and mouth hanging open as she was briefly overwhelmed.

Instead of giving up like Gwen hoped, MJ grabbed the marvelous blond by the neck and shook her, strangling her but more noticeably slamming her head repeatedly on the floorboards. Gwen's eyes went a bit glassy after the third hard THUD, blond hair bouncing along with her skull. She cut off MJ's fourth try when she reached down to grab the dark red pubic hair in front of her face, pulling at it like wrapping paper on a Christmas present. Two big handfuls of red later, MJ was sobbing and fell off of her cupping her crotch.

"I'm surprised a weak pussy like that could take my Peter for so long," Gwen growled, looking at her handfuls of pubes. While MJ sobbed and curled up in a near fetal position, Gwen gave her another hard kick in the belly, knocking the wind out of her. While MJ gasped for air, she stuffed the mess of red hairs into her mouth, getting MJ to sputter and try to spit them out.

Gwen had no room left for mercy with all the pain in her crotch and breasts and everywhere, for that matter. She leaned on the couch's armrest, pressing her foot down on MJ's throat. She gagged and squirmed beneath her as Gwen glared down at her. "You going to stay away from my Peter?" Gwen hissed down at her, fatigue and anger clear in her voice. She was done messing around. So when MJ started to shake her head weakly, she pushed down on her throat harder. MJ's mouth hung open, drooling and gasping for air like a fish on a dock before she started to nod rapidly.

"Whose man is he?" Gwen demanded, lifting her foot slightly in approval of MJ's conceding.

"Yours," she rasped out, eyes and mouth watering pathetically, still spitting up the occasional pube.

"Finally got something right," she hissed, removing her foot completely. MJ held her throat and coughed loudly, rolling slowly in miserable pain on the ground. Gwen stood over her upper body, sitting down suddenly to planted her battered blond bush into MJ's face. "Now... start licking."

"What?!" MJ blurted, but Gwen grabbed her by the hair and pulled her mouth up against her tenderized folds. Gwen winced slightly as her clawed up cunt was touched, but the satisfaction of MJ's suffering and submission was enough to make her overlook it.

"Start licking, you little slut. It's the closest you'll ever get to tasting Peter's dick again. And you so much as think about biting and I'll claw your eyes out and stuff them up your dirty cunt."

MJ wasn't foolish enough to take the threat literally, but she was scared and sore enough not to give Gwen any more reason to torment her.

MJ wasn't foolish enough to take the threat literally, but she was scared and sore enough not to give Gwen any more reason to torment her. She reluctantly reached out her tongue, licking slowly between the folds of Gwen's scratched and beaten pussy. She moaned and shuddered at the sensation of MJ's oral submission.

"That's it... there's a good bitch. You're fucking good at this. Mmmm, Pete should thank me for saving him from wasting his time on such a dyke." The backhanded trash talk kept coming as Gwen humped on MJ's face. The redheaded model winced and released muffled squeaks at her beaten face being rubbed over, but still obediently at up her pussy. Gwen held her in tighter and humped harder as they went, squeezing her thighs around Mary Jane's head to squashing her face in a painful and humiliating facesit. MJ sobbed and shuddered, which only seemed to excite Gwen even more between the vibration of her bawling face and her increasing shame.

MJ was disgraced to find how good she was at being Gwen's sex toy, as the blond's drawn out humping finally peaked and she came over her rival's face. MJ sputtered and coughed under her as the orgasm ran into her nose and mouth, soaking MJ in her rival's sweaty feminine scent. When Gwen got off her, MJ was too busy coughing and drooling as she writhed limply on the floor.

"You ever come NEAR Pete again and I'll do ten times worse to you," the blond victor threatened, planting her foot on Mary Jane's crotch and pressing down firmly on it. "You understand, you braindead cunt?"

"Yes!" MJ sputtered breathlessly, hardly able to think or breathe properly let alone fight back or argue. The extra pressure crushing her cunt didn't help at all either.

Gwen took her foot off of her groin at last, letting MJ curl up in a bloodied and bruised mess. Gwen took some of her clothes from her bedroom, tugging them on so she could get herself home. She left the apartment, already texting Peter about how Mary Jane wouldn't get between them any more. One thing anybody who got in her way would have to learn was that NOTHING stopped Gwen Stacy.

Birthday Bash pt 2: Afterparty

sequel to the earlier story, which sounds like it got pretty popular. it's more of a humiliation story than a normal match, but if you like a plump girl getting embarrassed and beat up by younger guys and generally being made into a mess, good times for all

Sarah and her husband were on their way back from a fairly pleasant date. A talkative night over dinner and a decent movie, and they were having more fun tearing it apart on the ride home than they were actually watching it. While her husband drove, Sarah's cel phone went off. A brief conversation and she hung up, nodding to her husband.

"My brother just called," she sighed. "Andrew's at a party and he's supposed to be home by now. They wanted to know if I could pick him up since we're closer to the place than they are."

"And did you?" he asked.

"Of course! It's my brother! And I can't have him shoving that in mom's face next time at Thanksgiving!" she defended. She still hated the teenager and his pranks hadn't let up, though nothing as severe as the birthday party incident.

"What kind of party?" her husband asked as he turned the car to follow her directions.

"Well, considering they said they think he's drunk, it sounds like one he's not supposed to be at in the first place," she huffed. "Bunch of noisy teenagers that shouldn't be drinking either way..."

"Ah, I had my fun at that age," her husband smiled wistfully. "It's all harmless. Not that we're not getting him home," he added defensively. "Just don't be too hard on the little bastard."

Sarah smiled and shook her head. He knew the kind of trouble he put her through, and while it was all plenty funny to him, he sympathized and apologized after he'd laugh at her stories. At least he knew the boy had most of the blame, unlike most people who she told or even WITNESSED her suffering.

They reached the house where the music blasted and the lights were on all over the house. It wasn't deafening or shaking the walls, but there were certainly a bunch of rowdy kids of various ages. They all toted cups that were decidedly not see-through, preventing any authority figures from seeing what the kids at the front deck and throughout the house were drinking. The kegs and empty bottles inside were a pretty good clue, though, if the smell weren't enough for both of the adults to know better.

Sarah and her husband waded through the mess, asking a few kids before finding Andrew in the kitchen drinking with some friends.

"There you are!" Sarah barked at him. "Your mother's been worried sick! She said you refused to come home at all! Come on, we're going!"

His friends groaned or booed, but Andrew waved at them to calm down, even if his sloppy smile and clumsy hand-waving made it clear he was intoxicated. "Hey, hey, calm down. She's my cool aunt. Ain't that right, Auntie Sarah? Can't I stay for just a LITTLe longer? Then I'll go home. Promise!"

"What? No!" Sarah insisted. "This place is a mess and I won't just sit here and wait for you. Come on. In the car now!" She took Andrew's arm, trying to force him after her, but her husband set a hand on her arm.

"Alright, look, COOL Auntie Sarah," he offered. "How about we let Andy have one, ONE more drink..." He pressed the word, looking at both of the relatives as an enforcing mediator, making sure they both stuck to the idea. "Then he goes quietly with us. Agreed?"

Andrew's eyes lit up a bit excitedly as he smiled wide. A few kids started up a chant of "One more drink! One more drink!"

"Alright, fine!" Sarah blurted angrily. She pointed an accusing finger over at her husband. "But both of you boys had best behave."

"Perfectly," Andrew smiled, elbowing one of his friends and nodding at Sarah. They shared a few meaningful glances at eachother before one stepped forward.

"Hi, Dave Robinson," one friend introduced himself, offering Sarah a hand while Andrew started to fill up a fresh drink. "Were you the one at the birthday party? With the Mexican wrestler girl?"

Sarah groaned and rolled her eyes. "Yes, that was me," she grumbled. She was surprised as the boys and girls burst into excited smile and cheers, even more than the occasional burst of laughter. She recognized most of them from the part itself, but some looked completely new, suggesting word had quickly spread since the incident.

"Oh wow, that's amazing! Everyone still talks about that! You're a legend!" Dave blurted out excitedly.

"I was there!" piped up a blond girl. "That was incredible! I couldn't believe how good you made that look!"

Sarah realized that for all she knew, no one was made aware that it wasn't a show. They really must have thought she was some kind of stunt woman or underground wrestler. It was still embarrassing to hear the crowd eagerly praise and ask about her public beating and talent for taking a punch, but she decided it was better than the alternative and went with it.

"Do you mind a picture?" David asked first, starting a parade of copycats wanting the same. Sarah looked to her husband for approval, who smiled and lightly pushed at her back. She smiled and stepped forward, letting one of Dave's friends snap a picture off on his phone. The one taking the pic stepped in to hold out his phone and snap a "selfie" of them. The awkward angle meant he had to grab her around the waist and pull her close to him, and she wasn't perfectly comfortable with the close proximity and how her big breasts squashed into his chest, but she smiled anyway and got it over with.

But as they went on, the boys got no less handsy with her. She didn't know what to say about it, never being much of a celebrity before, but they kept hugging, grabbing, and squeezing her for their shots. Some of the shots were also taken a bit too high an angle for her liking, her simple dress unable to hide much of her enormous cleavage at that level.

And the boys and girls just got more touchy-feely from there. A dozen or so photos into it, she gasps and jumps as someone pinches her round ass. Her boobs hadn't stopped jiggling by the time she looked at the boy she was taking the picture with, but he was already thanking her and had his hands full as he was checking out the picture on his phone. She looked behind her where Andrew was nursing his drink, drawing it out and a number of his friends laughing with him. And more people walked back and forth through the kitchen to get their own drinks. It was impossible for her to tell who it was, so she let it go for now.

Except that it didn't stop with just one. She gave another high squeak when another unseen hand palmed her round ass, but she bit it back as she smiled for the camera. She spun around when it was through, but any apparent culprit of the goosing was gone. She'd hardly turned back when another boy walked by, giving her round ass a hard spank. She grabbed at her dress to keep its wild wobbling under control, only turning in time to see some other boy rush around the corner snickering. She took another pair of pictures, but let out a sharp "YOWWW!" at the next little surprise to her backside. She turned too clumsily and slow, ruining the first picture with her reaction caught on camera. She turned and found that stuck in her buttocks was a cocktail stick, forced to awkwardly pluck it out before trying the picture again.

She wasn't much of a fighter or even one to raise her voice (unless screaming in pain, apparently), and kept her mouth shut and kept smiling. One of the sloppy drunk girls even spilled a strong-smelling fruity drink down her cleavage, and no amount of napkins really got the stain or the smell out of her bosom. She assured them it was alright, just like she told the partying boy that bumped into her when he dropped a sticky chip covered in between her boobs. The second and third time it happened wasn't as funny, and she had to wind up pushing the hands away when they tried to go in after the chip.

"OHH!" She yelped loudly at one especially sharp booty pinch, taking a big helping of her round ass and twisting whatever it reached. She would have to check later in the shower if she had bruises back there! She'd had enough. She stormed back to the living room to find her husband, ready to make him force the young nephew to leave. He didn't look so keen to help, downing the last of his second bottle and talking up a small group of teenagers, all younger and skinnier than she was.

"That’s it!" she barked, stomping a foot in front of him and making her sloppy breasts bounce around. "We are leaving!"

"Oh, come now! Andrew's having fun, isn't he?" her husband smiled, a bit sloppily himself. One of the girls passed him a pair of bottles, and he impressed them by popping them open together with one hand. It was an old trick he'd once used to pick up Sarah so long ago. "Still got it!" he boasted before tapping the bottle heads together and passing one back to her, taking a pull from the other.

"Andrew can go to hell," she huffed, not daring to say to say so too loudly. "We're dragging him home if we have to. Him and his... disgusting friends can't keep their hands to themselves!"

"Sweetie, you're over-reacting," he assured her as he swallowed his mouthful of beer. "You're like a celebrity to them! Boys will be boys, after all, and they're just having fun with you."

"Well I'm not," she huffed, brushing some more chip crumbs from her chest.

Her husband chuckled and shook his head. "Well I can't have that. We'll leave really soon, I promise. In fact..." He reached into his pants pocket and produced the car keys, tossing them to her. "You're in charge now. Plus, I've had too many to drive now," he noted with another little snicker, the girls giggling along with him. She caught them in her hand, squeezing the keys angrily in her fist not so much at him but this whole situation. She wanted it over with, and dammit she was going to go end it now.

Sarah marched back into the kitchen, where she managed to find Andrew again still working on his drink (or perhaps he'd refilled it while she wasn't looking). "There you are!" she huffed, pointing at him sternly.

"Of course. I haven't moved since you found me," Andrew smiled proudly.

"We are going. Now!" she ordered.

"But my drink..."

"I don't care!" she huffed, red-faced and flustered without a single drink in her (though one or two were ON her, given the stains). She held up the keys to him like a badge of authority. "I'm driving, so if you want a ride, it's with me. Because I'm sure none of these kids ha-HEY!"

Andrew lashed out quickly, taking the keys from her raised hand before she knew what happened. She blinked at her empty hand stupidly for a moment while Andrew laughed proudly. "Wha... why you little brat! Give me those!"

"Better a little brat than a fat pig!" Andrew teased jovially, Sarah grabbing clumsily at the keys but he held them out of her reach. She groped for them blindly, but Andrew held her off long enough to throw them to one of his friends. They caught it and Sarah was left turning to try and catch them instead, only for them to keep the game of keepaway going.

"Haha! Piggy in the middle!" jeered Andrew as she scrambled after one of the other boys in a furious panic.

"This must be why you don't usually see whales on land," his friend mocked before throwing them over her head. She skidded to a stop and jumped to try and catch them, missing completely and only succeeding in making herself jiggle further. The boys actively started to throw them over her head, just to see her chubby form jump and miss them over and over, tits wobbling out of control in her dress.

"Not funny, Andrew!" Sarah fumed as she grabbed at them again.

"Looks pretty funny to me!" he laughed.

"Here, I can make it funnier," her friend Kevin offered, grabbing a toothpick from the table and as Sarah scrambled by for the keys again, he prodded her in the butt again. She yelped and spun around, losing track of the keys as she glared back at the boy. She turned back to Andrew, who had already passed off the keys but hid his hands behind his back. She shove and grabbed behind him, the snickering boy still hiding them only for her to look behind him, letting his other hand prod her in the ass with a cocktail stick.

She jumped and spun around again, the kids going back to tossing them again. Peter pretended to throw them to her, only for her to jump and catch the messy handful of salsa in her cleavage instead when he passed them off again.

"You give them to me!" she whined as if giving an overgrown tantrum, slapping at one boy's hand. He managed to quickly pass off the keys, but the wild slap knocking his beer from his hands instead. The group still laughed at it, and as Sarah turned to try and grab them in her pathetically fruitless chase, she slid on the puddle of beer she'd just spilled. She slipped and fell suddenly, thumping her head on the edge of the table, briefly going crosseyed before she collapsed on the floor.

There was a brief pause from the boys as the laughter calmed down, only for Andrew to squat down beside her and slap at her face. She groaned wearily and he flashed the other boys a thumbs up. "She's alive. Don't worry. Here, help me drag her upstairs. I can't carry this much weight on my own."

The boys pitched in, a foursome of them taking hold of whatever they could on the sloppy, unconscious curvy woman. They were all tipsy or outright drunk, and none of them organized about it, moving her up the stairs with all the efficiency of a few college kids moving a couch more than a person. It was all the more pronounced whenever they turned too sharply to try and fit up together, clunking her head noisily against the wall.

"No, left stupid," Andrew advised, the boys turning her the other way. Her head knocked against the banister with another loud thud. "Good enough," Andrew shrugged, starting to help heave her up again, ignoring the following bumps as her head hit the next few rails on the way up the steps.

"So what's the plan?" one of the other boys asked, Andrew nodding his head towards the bathroom with a grin. "Let's give her some water. That'll wake her up."

The other boys smiled back, and dragged her into the bathroom as Andrew instructed, propping her up in front of the toilet. Her head flopped limply against the seat, groaning and drooling witlessly.

"You sure she was the designated driver?" one of the boys asked, smiling down at the busty ragdoll.

"Not especially," Andrew shrugged. "Let's give her the wakeup call." He lifted Sarah by the hair, another boy lifting the seat and stuffing her face into the water and flushing it.

With some sputtering and choking, Sarah woke up suddenly and violently, trying to sit up while the boys held her head down, making her endure the full spiraling humiliation of the flush. They pulled back up with her coughing violently, spitting up some of the (thankfully clean) water into the toilet and onto her bulging wet breasts, her wet hair sticking to the sides of her face and hanging loosely.

"There's my fat weak auntie!" Andrew chimed, the boys laughing at her expense as she looked around dizzily, still dazed from being knocked out and then given a swirly from a bunch of drunk teenagers. "Did you have a good nap?"

"I'm sure she's used to being knocked out by now," laughed Peter, the friend who was throwing the party in the first place while his parents were away. "Just like at the last party she was at, right?"

"oh yea!" another boy agreed, smacking her ass derisively. Sarah could only groan and jiggle in reply to the abuse. "Fat Barbie, she called you. Was that your ring name or something, you weak old hog?"

"You act like she could even wrestle at all!" Andrew cut in. "She's just a big fat punching bag, aren't you?"

Sarah shook her head weakly, but she was too dazed to form a real reply. They dunked her face in again, her thrashing and trying to scream blowing up bubbles from the water as the boys laughed at her expense.

"See? She's always the best when she's getting her ass kicked," Andrew pointed out when they finally let her back up for air. "But she's so good at it!"

"Yea, the best loser in the business," another laughed as Sarah spat up more water while she was held up by her hair alone, not having the strength or balance to get to her feet under her own power.

"We should go save up and get that Monica girl out here again. Let her jump Miss Piggy here and have her way with her again."

"Nooo..." Sarah groaned out miserably, Andrew pulled back on her hair and tossing her so that her back landed against the wall. She sat there like a rag roll, weakly rubbing her aching head and the bumps that were growing on its surface.

"Well you don't get a vote," Andrew insisted at her. "You're the natural loser here. You're so good at it, you'd even lose the vote anyway." The boys laughed while Steve, one of the taller among the boys, rifled through the closet and grabbed a bottle from inside.

"How about we do her a little favor, guys?" he offered, but his clever smile still matched the rest of the group. "Let's give our queen hippo a makeover so she can hide from Monica when we send her out to get her. Make it a little fair at least."

Andrew saw the bottle, and its label for blue hair dye, smiling as he read. It must have been a leftover from a costume party that Pete's parents never felt like throwing out. "Yea, let's play dress up, Fat Barbie!" he gloated, the boys going to grab whatever they could. As a bunch of drunk teenage boys, they didn't know much about women’s hair products, but that seemed to work just as well for their goals.

Steve turned the bottle of die upside down over Sarah's head, splashing around and leaving random streaks of it in her wet hair. Steve dug his fingers into her scalp, scrubbing and pulling it into knots. She squealed and squirmed in his grasp, the dye mixing in unevenly into a sloppy mix of runny blue and dirty blond.

"Uhhnn, stop! Get off! Not my hair!" Sarah ranted, grabbing the edge of the bathtub and trying to push herself back up, unsteady and slow between her beating and her bulky, bosomy body. When she looked up, one of the boys had found a can of hairspray, blasting it into her eyes like a can of mace. It wasn't nearly so painful and debilitating, but Sarah couldn't tell the difference as she shrieked and immediately fell back over, bouncing briefly off the edge of the tub and landing back on the ground, clutching her face and wailing.

"I'm blind! I can't see!" she wailed, panicking at the chemical sting, though even the boys knew she was exaggerating.

"Well have a hair of the dog that bit you. That should help!" Andrew advised helpfully, motioning for the same boy to spray down her hair, the teens pulling, twisting and playing with her hair until it stuck out in wild directions and stayed that way.

The wet and sticky Sarah managed to wriggle free from their grasps, stumbling blindly for where she hoped the door was in her disoriented state. She instead scrambled tits-first into the wall, thumping off of it. She was already stunned when one of the boys grabbed her by the dress and punched her in the belly, Sarah releasing her breath in a satisfying WHUMP noise as his fist met her soft wall of fat.

"Stay in your seat, chunky," he ordered, holding onto her hair and the front of her dress (just above where her heaving breaths pumped her hefty breasts up and down). Peter grabbed the hem of her dress, yanking it up until it was over her head like a crude, blinding hood. He and one of his friends started slapping her wide bottom, the pantied butt jiggling with every smack so that it barely seemed to sit still.

She spun around trying to avoid the slapping, punching and pinching, but another boy was there as she was surrounded by her gleefully drunk tormentors. "Over here!" Andrew called with a wave to the boys, herding the blinded and helpless Sarah over to him and pushing her onto the toilet seat, sitting with her chubby legs splayed out shamelessly in front of teenagers. Two of the boys pulled off the dress entirely, then got to work on her fittingly giant bra.

Pete left the room quickly while Andrew took a marker from another comrade. He ordered the boys to hold down her arms while he popped the marker open, her weak struggling only making her bare breasts and stomach jiggle. Andy braced one hand on her big belly, holding the jiggling fat steady so that he could write "Fat Barbie" across the flesh with his sharpie.

Pete finally returned with a pair of handcuffs, the boys laughing at the fact that he owned them (even if they were fuzzy and pink). They forced the topless Sarah back upright and her hands behind her back, Peter clasping the cuffs on to leave her utterly helpless, on top of being a ridiculous-looking mess. She seemed to have just enough sight and balance recovered for them to force-march her back downstairs, the party quickly bursting into laughter at the ridiculous sight.

Andrew waved for quiet, and directed more guests quietly. They split off, the boys and girls giggling as they set up the snack table, as well as a few more for good measure.

At last, they spun Sarah around in several quick circles, leaving her dizzied and even more off balance. "Okay, Sarah! Time for a party game! It's called 'hunt for the car keys,' and I think you'll like it. Well... WE'LL like it. But at least you'll like the prize."

The kids laughed as Andy waved at the table in front of her. There were several big bowls there of variously appetizing things. Punch and dip, of course, but more had been added; mustard and ketchup, whipped cream, dog food. Some of the girls had even arranged some powdered laundry soap from the garage.

"We hid the car keys in one of the bowls. You have to get them out without your hands. If you do, we take off the handcuffs and I'll go home. Deal?"

Sarah looked wearily at the bowls, tired and dizzy and confused and aching all over. She just wanted the night over with. "Fine," she muttered, the party cheering for her, her husband included as he clapped from his seat on the couch.

"Annnnd go!" Andrew declared.

Sarah went for the easy way out, hurrying to the punch bowl and slapping her face into it. The teens burst into laughs and cheers as she gulped and sloshed around, her face looking like a fat discolored fish through the glass of the punch. Of course, with her lack of foresight, the fact that the bowl was see-through was a dead giveaway that the keys were not inside.

After some pawing around with her lips and teeth, she finally came back up. Her hair was now mixed with blue and the red of the punch, much of her spiked up hair drooping and sloppy. "Go! Go! Go! Go!" the party chanted, urging on Sarah's urge to rush through this.

"AWWWW!" The crowd gave a mix of delighted and disgusted reactions as Sarah thrust her face into the mess of wet dog food, shoving around in the slop. She hesitated to do so, but after a moment she opened up her mouth, gagging as she pushed through the sloppy meat and juices.

"Put a leash on that bitch!" somebody called over the laughter.

"Dig in there, Sarah! I bet it's in there!"

"Go, Fat Barbie! Go!"

"So that's where she puts on all the weight!"

Sarah came up at last gasping for air, face coated in the dull brown sauce. She gave a quick shake of her head, unable to wipe her eyes and whipping some of the gravy off of her face. Her face was an expression of pure disgust, but the chubby wife pushed on as the punch and grease stained her jiggling tits as she dashed to the next one.

She added to her disgusting mask as she splatted her face into ketchup and mustard bowl, and splashed her face into the thick and sticky dip, all with the same results. Nothing but a mess to be found in there.

"You almost got em, sweetie!" her husband called, idly playing with the car keys in his pocket. Andrew had passed them off to him while she was being spun around, but he wasn't one to ruin her fun. At least her husband wasn't going to be called a party pooper.

Sarah slapped her face into the pile of whipped cream next, splashing the stuff everywhere nearby as kids backed off to try and avoid the extra mess. She came up coated in it like a layer of shaving cream was smeared over her.

"Aww man! She looks like a clown after a bukakke!" one boy laughed over the crowd. Sarah spat out a lump of the fluff before dreading the last pile. At least maybe it would help clean her up a bit. She stuck her face into the bowl containing the pile of soap flakes, immediately backing out and coughing loudly. It smelled strongly, especially mixed with the rest of her sloppy face and breasts, and the chemicals stung her already reddened eyes.

"Come on! Get the keys!" the kids encouraged, Sarah biting down the discomfort and general aches before buying their lies. The round gullible blond stuck her face into the mess again, shaking her head around and shoving the soap all over herself and the floor.

"Wow, I loved this episode of Double Dare," snickered one boy watching her while the crowd cheered and laughed. Sarah lifted her head at last, panting and spitting out bits of soap, some of which started to foam up in her mouth when mixed with her spit.

"It's not in here!" she whined dizzily.

"Guess you better try them all again!" Andrew laughed, the crowd cheering for more... except for one.

Peter's mother stood in the door, keys to the house still in hand as she tapped her foot, staring daggers at the party's host. He smiled and waved at her innocently, trying to hide his nervousness. Her eyes couldn't help but wander over to Sarah, her face smeared in white powder and God knows what else so as a mother, she naturally feared the worst.

The kids quieted down and Sarah finally looked at her in her punchdrunk state. "It's just a party game..." she slurred clumsily, exhausted and sore from the night's events.

Peter's mom bit her lip and stormed up to her, the well-dressed woman's high heels clacking over the floor. "You fat, stupid, irresponsible-" she snarled before one solid punch cracked into Sarah's jaw, making her spin in a complete circle before she fell to the floor with a dull splat from all the substances on her half-naked body. She was out cold. "Everyone! Out!" the mother barked. "And take your pig with you!"

The kids were quick to scatter before she got angry enough to call the police, and Andrew and Sarah's husband propped the dumbstruck and unwilling party guest. She was still topless, messy and barely able to move on her own, so each held up an arm.

"This would be easier if we got those cuffs off," her husband grunted as he hefted his wife along in nothing but her panties and a scattered layer of filth and food.

"They were Pete's," Andrew admitted with a shrug. "He had the keys."

"Fair enough," her husband shrugged. "She likes to have fun, really. Sarah just doesn't do well with parties. Hold her while I get the door." He shrugged off Sarah to her nephew while he pushed a few things over in the back seat. Andrew moved her in awkwardly, feigning a trip so that her head thumped against the hard rubber of the car door's edge. Sarah's head lolled with it like a punching bag, gurgling dizzily in his grip.

"Well at least she's still awake in there somewhere," her husband smiled, patting her on her shoulder and buckling her in. "We'll clean her up when she's home and she'll be good as new. Just don't tell anyone I drove her home, you hear?"

"Totally," Andrew grinned back, the two boys smiling as they started up the car. Sarah was barely coming to, an aching and sticky mess as Andrew shook his head.

"Sorry if she got a little out of control there," Andrew apologized for HER. "She was a lot of fun, but she's so goofy sometimes."

"Yea, well if your friend needs someone to help clean up, we can send her over. After the spectacle she made of herself, least she could do, I think."

"Yea, running around naked, eating all that food, using up all that hairspray and die... made a real hog of herself."

"Well she'll sleep it off, and I'm sure she'll apologize in the morning."