Amy Crashes a Wedding

"WHAT!?"

"Yep. We're seizing the car to pay your past-due taxes. I don't really know cars, I'm a city girl, but it sounded expensive from what you say. The public fisc thanks you for your contribution."

"But, but, how will I get home!"

"Well, on that front, I've got good news and bad news. The good news is that you no longer have to worry about getting home. The bad news is, that's because you don't have a home any longer."

"WHAT!?" Penelope bolted out of her seat, causing Biscuit to cower in his handbag.

"A Revenue Agent out by your home is changing the locks as we speak. We'll have a quick auction next week and use the proceeds to pay off the estate's tax liability. The household goods inside may take longer to sell off. Now, the good news is that, if our appraisal is correct, that house should just about take care of the estate's tax liability, and the Bentley should take care of the interest. I mean, give or take ten thousand or two."

"Ten... thousand..." Penelope sank back into her chair.

"Oh, and you laundered your money poorly. You managed to locate your accounts in the one Caribbean island we do have a tax treaty with. I had them wire it to us this morning."

"Buh... buh...buh..."

"So, by my estimate, as of right now the sum total of your possessions are the clothes on your back."

Penelope jerked backwards and tried to hang on to her dress, as though it might magically fly off at the whim of this IRS witch.

"Oh, don't worry. If I thought you owed any more I'd be taking that dress off right now. Believe me, it wouldn't be the first time I seized clothing from a taxpayer! Today! But I'm sure you're not interested in that."

Penelope's eyes glazed over. Everything she'd worked for with that nasty old man, and it was all for nothing.

Amy looked pointedly at her watch. "Alright, that's enough of that. Let's just get you out of here..." Amy stood up, walked behind Penelope, and pulled out her chair. Penelope stood slowly and gathered her things in a daze.

Amy opened the door and gestured outward. "I'm sure you can find your own way out." As Penelope headed down the hall back to the elevators, Amy couldn't resist one final Parthian shot.

"Just be happy I didn't seize your stupid mutt and sell it to a pet store. I would have, but I doubt we'd have gotten five dollars for the bitch!" Amy smirked and headed back to the office. She hated dogs. She had a really bad history with them.

Penelope, meanwhile, had turned beat red at that last comment. She didn't mind being called a skank, a whore, a gold digger, or any other of the million nasty names she had heard before. But she would NOT tolerate insults to Biscuit's heritage!

Penelope tromped down the hall, stewing as she thought of how to exact revenge on the vicious little twerp.

"Psst!"

Penelope looked over and saw a little blonde girl in a pastel suit, gesturing for her to come closer.

"What?" Penelope was in no mood for nonsense.

"Shhhhh! Quiet, or she'll hear!"

"What is this?" Penelope leaned down to listen.

"Are you pissed off at Amy Brown?"

"Like you wouldn't believe."

"Good. Here's what you need to do..."

***

Amy left work early that night, seven o'clock. It was Friday night and the city was coming alive for the weekend. Amy, of course, would party the only way she knew how: by catching up on the Wall Street Journal and reading a book while enjoying a nice cup of tea. It had been the perfect end to a perfect week. Asset seizures always felt great to begin with, and she had done two of them in one day while simultaneously embarrassing her rival and humiliating her cousin. Nothing could spoil her mood.

As the train pulled into the station, she looked to the left and spotted Liz, also waiting for the same train. She seemed to vaguely recall that Liz lived in Brooklyn, so why was she getting on an uptown train? Probably going clubbing, or whatever Liz did in the free time she should have been using to improve herself. The doors opened.

"Hiya Amy!" Liz, seeming to just notice Amy, waved and smiled. Amy, feeling unusually magnanimous, smiled back. This delayed her entry onto the train half a second. In that time, a tiny, shadowy figure darted forward from behind a column. Just as she stepped onto the train, Amy felt two rows of sharp pains in her butt.

"YEOWCH!" She looked behind her to see Biscuit firmly attached to her rear. Penelope came charging forward.

"I'll ask you to kindly unhand my dog!"

"Get this mongrel off of my ass!!" Amy shouted.

"Mongrel, why I..." Penelope grabbed Biscuit, pulling him back toward her. His teeth dislodged from Amy's buttocks, but remained firmly clenched in her skirt. Amy pulled forward, trying to escape onto the train.

"Stand clear of the closing doors, please." *Bing! Bong!* The subway train door closed shut, with Amy on the inside, Biscuit and Penelope on the outside, and Amy's skirt still connecting the two. The train inched forward and Penelope planted her feet. She was pulled a few inches before RIIIP! the skirt tore off of Amy's waist, and with a quick FWIP! the skirt slid out through the doors into Penelope's hands. She waived it over her head in triumph; her part of the plan was complete.

On the train, Amy now stood mortified. From the waist up, she remained put together, suit jacket, white blouse, glasses. Below the wait she stood in her navy blue hipster panties adorned with outlines of gold hearts, a black lace garter belt, sheer black stockings, and black pumps. Her hands shot down to her butt and crotch.

"Oh, Amy, what's happened to you!" Liz maneuvered her way through the car to stand by Amy.

"Nothing I can't handle." Amy was immediately suspicious of Liz's motives.

"Nonsense, here, let me help you." She guided Amy, whose hands were too busy ineffectively trying to protect her modesty to resist, over to the seat she had been standing next to when Amy had boarded the train. "Have a seat."

Liz pushed Amy into the seat and... Nothing happened. Amy squirmed, unsure what was going on. She checked the seat under her, incidentally massaging her buttocks, which were still sore from the dog bite. Nothing. She checked the back of her seat. No glue, no hot oil, no lubricant, no foreign objects of any kind.

"Now you just relax and cover up. I'll see you home safe."

Amy remained silent. Liz seemed to be her usual good-natured self, and Amy felt a little ashamed for doubting the innocent little blonde. Just a little.

"Where you getting off?"

"I transfer to the 1-2-3 at Times Square."

"Gosh, Times Square. There's all sorts of perverts hanging around there, waiting to grab a piece of a morsel like you. Especially," Liz gave Amy an exaggerated once-over, "when you're dressed so provocatively."

"I make the transfer every night. It's perfectly safe. I'll be fine."

"Just in case, I want you to have this." Liz handed Amy a little bottle of pepper spray. She leaned over to whisper in Amy's ear, "Put the bottle in your panties, down between your legs. You can keep it hidden down there, so they won't know what hit 'em, but you'll still have easy access."

Amy cocked an eyebrow. Was this some round-about way of Liz coming on to her? But she shook her head and forgot about it. The advice made sense, so Amy discreetly did as Liz had told her.

Times Square. Amy stood to leave, again shielding her lower parts from view. By now the train was crowded. Making it to the door was a struggle. Liz followed close behind, one hand on Amy's shoulder, the other on the small of her back. The doors began to close, but Amy was still about a foot away.

"Quick, you'll miss it!" Liz shouted. She shoved Amy forward, but held on to her jacket. With her upper hand she felt around and secured a nice, strong grip, through Amy's jacket and blouse down to the bra strap. The doors closed on Amy.

"AGH." Amy grimmaced. Liz now slowly inched Amy forward through the door, maintaining her grip on Amy's clothes. The door squeeeeezed Amy's buttocks, causing them to shake and morph in strange ways as the door gathered up a big chunk and pinched it together.

"EEEEK!" Finally, the doorway slammed shut. Amy was outside, staring at a crowd of people. Inside, Liz's upper hand still gripped Amy's clothes down to the bra. Liz looked down and, to her delight, discovered that the straps on Amy's garter belt that held up her stockings had wound up on the inside of the car in the squeeze. Liz eagerly grabbed the straps with her free hand and held tight.

Amy stood, having just extricated herself, painfully, from the closing door. A crowd of people stood in front of her, all eyes on her colorful crotch.

"EEP!" Both of Amy's hands flew to cover her excessively cute panties. The train lurched forward and Amy felt a tug. Something must be caught. Happened all the time, she just needed to tug it the rest of the way through the doors. She held her ground and leaned forward as the train pulled away.

RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIPPPP! POPOPOPOPOP! RIIIIIPPPPP!! RIIIIIIPP! All at once, with multiple loud, coordinated ripping sounds, Amy's jacket ripped backwards off her shoulders, the buttons on her blouse popped off and the blouse followed, and her bra pulled taught against her large breasts before ripping off itself. At the same time, her garter belt was pulled backwards and away before it, too, ripped off of her body, the straps popping off her stockings and sliding through her panties as they went. Unbenownst to Amy, the garments were still in Liz's firm grip. In an instant, Amy found herself standing in black high heels, sagging stockings, and blue panties with gold hearts, both hands on her crotch covering just about the only part of her that still remained clothed.

"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEK!" Amy's hands flew to her breasts as she knelt down, legs together, and tried to use her knees to cover herself. Crack! HISSSSS! The action of her thighs was the last trauma needed, after the earlier squeezing through the door, for the bottle of pepper spray to burst and spill its contents into Amy's crotch. The panties quickly absorbed the liquid, spreading it over their entire front surface area, then dripping the excess off the bottom. A few people noticed and started pointing and laughing.

"Look! She pissed herself!"

"No I didn't! It isn't funny! If I learn who you are, I'll..."

And just then the pepper spray kicked in.

"YEEEEOOOOWWWWCH!" Amy flew into the air and ran down the platform, her hands desperately rubbing at her pussy, desperate for any relief from the fire that burned in her loins.

***

Amy trudged wearily up the stairs. She was naked and disheveled. Her ass and crotch were apple red, as though she had somehow managed to get a sunburn exclusively on her bikini area. She had abandoned her heels somewhere on the platform. Her panties were wadded up in her right hand. She'd taken them off sometime after she gotten above ground. Soon she was on the Upper West Side; nobody makes quicker time through midtown, she had now learned, than a screaming naked woman.

Eventually a taxi had honked her in. She gave him the address, but couldn't pay, for obvious reasons. He told her just having her as a passenger was payment enough. Amy had ignored the obvious lechery, focused only on rubbing and scratching herself in all the hard-to-reach places that the pepper spray had infiltrated.

When she'd gotten home the superintendant had buzzed her in, fortunately without looking outside. She kept a spare set of keys under the welcome mat. Now to get home and end this nightmare commute.

She wearily bent over and flipped up the corner of the mat. Nothing. Where was the key? Suddenly her door flew open. It was pitch black inside. She looked up as a pair of hands grabbed her and jerked her inside. A CLANG! on the head and she was out cold.

***

Amy came to about twenty minutes later. Through bleary eyes she could vaguely make out Janet's smiling face. She was brandishing a frying pan.

"From the looks of it, that was the first use this pan has ever gotten. Don't you ever cook?"

"Mmmmff!" Amy tried to answer, but found that something was jamming her mouth. It felt firm, fleshy, with a vaguely artificial aftertaste. After a moment her eyes regained sufficient focus to identify it: It was a realistic synthetic-skin dildo. She tried to spit it out, but it seemed to have been strapped to her face.

"Oh, that thing," said Janet, "I got so many of those damned things at the bachelorette party that I had two whole drawers overstuffed with them. I just wanted to make sure you seized EVERYTHING from my wedding. Wouldn't want to blemish that perfect record of yours."

Amy turned her head around. She was sitting on the ground, back against the wall, legs splayed, hands bound by a pair of fur-lined novelty sex cuffs.

"Hey, Amy, remember that one time in summer camp? That time I put those nettles in your suit and you pulled them up just because that boy you like handed them to you?"

Amy snorted.

"Well, I was thinking about that day and getting just a bit nostalgic, so I thought I'd recreate it."

Janet's fiancee, Tim Sherman, stepped around the corner. He held still-soggy panties from before, but now they were distorted in the seat. Amy closed her eyes. She could guess what was coming.

"I went out to the park and gathered some brambles and nettles, just like the old days! But I couldn't find a snapping turtle, so I settled for some pushpins we had lying around the house.

Janet grabbed Amy's shoulders and pulled her forward while Tim maneuvered the panties around Amy's ankles. Then he pulled them up snug around her seat.

"MMMMMMMMMMFFFF!" Amy's eyes shot open as her butt and pussy ignited with pain, both the dull burning that came from the remaining pepper spray and the sharp pin pricks from the various foreign objects in her undies.

"Now, what else do we have around here..." Janet looked around, then spied a yardstick Amy had been using to measure the apartment for some new furniture.

Amy stared at the stick in horror. She tried shaking her head no. "Mmf! Mmf! Mmf!"

"Now, now, it's not a punishment without a spanking." Janet got in position, raised the yard stick high, then brought it down right on Amy's outstretched ass.

WHACK! "MMMMMF!" The points of the nettles were driven into Amy's rear, the soft cloth, still infused with pepper spray, found its way into her tender folds.

Janet gave Amy two more whacks for good measure. SMACK! "MMMMF!" SLAP! "MMMMF!" even through the distended cloth, Janet could see Amy's firm round butt jiggle pleasantly, almost hypnotically, with each spank.

"Now, let's just get you in position"

"Mmmmff?"

"We figured you ruined the wedding, the least you could do was to give us a nice photo to put in the apology letter."

"MMMMMF!"

"Trust me, I can think of a lot worse things to do with you like this."

Janet carefully posed Amy. Ankles together, knees together, bent. Ass in the air, arms back, wrists bound by handcuffs, behind the knees. Head down, looking forward, resting on the chin. Amy was trussed up like a very angry-looking turkey.

"Hmmmmm... It looks good, but it's tough. I can see the plastic dick from here, but I can't see your face. The guests won't appreciate it if they just think it's an obscene photo and can't tell who it is."

Suddenly Janet lit up. She started rummaging through Amy's things. "Ah-ha!" She pulled something out. Then she began rummaging through a drawer where Amy kept office supplies. She came back, fiddled with something, then jammed something small, pointy, and metallic into Amy's rear.

"MMMF!"

Amy tried to maneuver her head to look, but Janet just turned it back forward. She and Tim snapped a few pictures, then unstuck whatever was stuck in Amy's rear, stripped off the panties, and undid the handcuffs. Amy fell limp, entirely spent.

"Thanks a lot, I got what I needed," said Janet, holding out the panties for Amy to see before wadding them up and stuffing them in her handbag. "Now, let's let bygones be bygones, huh Cuz? Camp was years ago. It's time you got over it. I know I have." At that, Janet planted a long, slow kiss on Tim Sherman's lips. Amy's face turned beet red.

"Why, you b-, b-, b-" Amy came as close to swearing as she had come in the last fifteen years, "-bad person! I hate you so much! Hate you! HATE YOU!"

"Ta! Have a wonderful day!" Janet laughed and closed the door, leaving Amy alone. Amy rummaged around the floor, bleary-eyed, looking for whatever had been pinned to her rump. She finally found it, a smooth plastic rectangle. She stared at it. There, in all her serious, professional glory, was Amy Brown, staring back at her from the photo of her IRS ID badge. At this point, Amy's brain had had just about enough of this day. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she passed out.

***

About a week later, Liz got a package at work. In the past week the only time Liz had seen Amy was on Monday, when she came into the office with a pillow under each arm, apparently to cushion her seat. Liz stifled a giggle at that. Amy had shut herself in her office all week since then.

The package had a return address of Janet Brown-Sherman. The couple must have gotten married quickly. Inside was a card decorated with white lace and written in elaborate calligraphy. It read, "Thank you so much for all your help!" The card held two photos. One showed Janet Brown-Sherman and Tim Brown-Sherman waving in front of a hotel in Jamaica. Maybe her dad had given them some more money to put a honeymoon back together. The other photo showed a woman on the floor, hands bound behind her knees, a big rubber dick in her mouth, ass in the air with blue be-hearted panties flying, and Amy Brown's ID badge pinned to the right butt cheek. Written across the photo, in fancy script, was the legend, "She left me in my undies, so I returned the favor!"

The package also contained a small packet wrapped in brown paper. Liz opened it giddily. Inside was a pair of blue panties with gold hearts, the inside studded with thistles and brambles. Liz held the undies aloft as she made her way back to her office. Amy's bra was about to get a companion.