Cherlyn Becomes Cherry

No... No. Not even as her cheeks burned with humiliation laid bare, her pussy scrubbed with the loofa between her legs, back and forth, she could not give in. She had to fight, had to let them know that she was no beginner to the business, that they couldn't take advantage of her and her body like that.

She swore and cursed and splashed, anger rising, but they ground the loofa up over her arse too, squeezing it hard against her buttocks as if they were trying to get between them to her rear cheeks too, one of the worst humiliations of all. Lorel helped by spreading Cherlyn's round cheeks so that the loofa could rub against her arsehole as well as her pussy, grinding over her folds.

Cherlyn crumbled, wailing, though anyone would have succumbed to the pain at that moment, how it rasped over her pussy and even her clit too. As much as she fought it, however, they were still stimulating her body in some way, the heat creeping through her of the illicit kind, the kind that, frankly, she only ever wanted to experience with her husband.

No... Fuck... No...

She had always been one to swear, tipping into foul language, though no more so than in her mind. Cherlyn panted heavily, breasts rising and falling sharply with every snatched breath, needing it, hating it, wanting anything but for the moment to continue playing out as it was.

"Oooh, look, what a toy we've found here!"

She didn't care which of the women said that, mentally begging for it to stop while her mind was more actively engaged in simply making sure that there was enough air in her lungs with every harsh, ragged gasp. Her body burned from the inside out, aching deeply, but she could not stop the effect the loofa had on her body being stimulated, even then, her body trying to shift and grind, even if her mind tried to rip her away from it. Torn between two opposing conflicts, she heaved for breath, trying to turn her face away, her whole body shaking with raw need.

No, hell... This can't be happening, this can't be happening... Nooooo!

Yet she had to wait, arching, tipping to the edge of climax, heaving and gasping while Lorel and Lafawna exploded into deep, ringing laughter.

"Ohhhh, she liked it too much -- we almost got her!" Lafawna bellowed, slapping her thigh, dropping her back into the tub.

Frustration that had no place there coursed through Cherlyn, aching deeply -- she'd been so close! And yet it was not as if she had wanted to get off in front of the women either, not with how they'd been abusing her -- it wasn't right! But what was right didn't always line up with what the body needed.

Lorel, in similar form, laughed and shook her head, holding the loofa out and away from her before dropping it, as if she was grossed out by Cherlyn grinding on it, practically climaxing before they'd taken it away.

"Little girl, you're enjoying this all too much, aren't you?"

Cherlyn gaped, standing, water spilling from her body, not even caring that her tits were out.

"Fuck you!" She roared, hands flying, gesturing as she talked -- not that it would do her much good against the women still standing over her with wide grins on their faces. "You think you're so big and strong just because you can push me around a little bit? Well, you're shit wrong -- that's what! I'm leaving now and fuck you and your jobs! I'll take my role as presenter but you lot sure as fuck won't be here!"

They only laughed at her, for what could they do besides not take her one bit as seriously as Cherlyn wanted to be taken.

"Oh, Cherry, you are a laugh! What are you thinking, coming in here like you're the big boss suddenly?" Lorel teased. "We're just doing our jobs and a lady like you can't get anyone fired around here!"

Cherlyn swore, but wasn't quick enough to correct them, once again, on calling her Cherry. Lafawna, however, loomed darkly over her, lips pressed together as she shook her head, shoving her tits in Cherlyn's face once again. It was hardly a position that Cherlyn wanted to be in as they trapped her, in the middle between them in the tub, squashed between their breasts with her face squashed and contorted in humiliation.

"But we don't tolerate that language around here, Cherry!" Lafawna admonished her with a wag of her finger, though her eyes promised trouble. "Better clean out that mouth of yours, Cherry!"

But she wasn't Cherry! She wanted to protest, but they were too swift for her, shoving bars of white soap into her mouth to scrub her tongue out, her tongue even yanked and dragged out from her mouth so that Cherlyn, quite literally, didn't have any say in the matter. She squealed, muffled by splashing water, and thrashed, but it was nothing at all for the much larger women to hold her arms down, even pinning her against their thick bodies when she struggled too much for their liking.

"Mmmph! Get off of me! Noooo!"

Of course, they didn't listen to her, laughing with their bosoms trembling as she was scrubbed up, soap rubbed over her face, even getting into her eyes, making them blur and stream in pain, blinking rapidly. Cherlyn shoved blindly, screeching through a mouthful of soap, as bubbles flowed freely from her mouth, soaping down her chest in glistening suds.

Spitting one bar of soap out did her no good either, for another bigger bar, was only shoved into her gob in its place, letting her know, quite surely, where her place there was. Lorel vibrated with laughter, her body damp where Cherlyn had been pressed up against her, the warmth of the larger woman's breasts pressing into Cherlyn's back. It might have been a comforting sensation, at another time, yet all Cherlyn could do was writhe and slam an elbow back into her tits, striving to free herself.

Another bar was shoved into her mouth to replace the one that had been spat out again, free for a moment and yet a passive player in her own life, helpless to do anything else. Fighting to rub the soap from her eyes with any water that she could scoop into her hands, Cherlyn finally got a moment, if only one, of respite.

"Don't get...ack...anything in my mouth!" She coughed and spluttered, shoving them away as she splashed, breathless and soapy, back into the water. "My vocal cords are precious! You don't know anything about singing, how vital they are! I'm due a comeback, you know -- right after this show is all done!"

Lorel smirked, flashing something silver-black in the air before her, too quick for Cherlyn's eyes to follow it.

"Yowch!"

Yet she felt it, all as the metal hair claw clamped down on her nose, her eyes bulging out, streaming with tears. No more was she Cherlyn the popstar, the one who had had crowds on their knees adoring her, not to the women using and abusing her in there. But she did not know that, she didn't know how she looked, didn't know how her body was changing, being forced back to a state of being that she had not seen in many, many years.

The revelation would be something else indeed...

She hacked and screeched, trying to rip herself away, though Lorel held her in place with her fingers on the clamp, ensuring that it would be Cherlyn who caused herself further pain if she did move back.

Her howl echoed through the bathroom as Lafawna pinched her tongue, yanking it out once again to shove another bar of creamy yellow soap down her throat, sliding through her slippery saliva straight down her throat. Cherlyn's eyes and cheeks bulged comically as she was forced to take it down, though not even she was calm and cool and collected enough (it depended on the time) to ignore how it bulged out through her throat.

"Hic-hic-hic!"

She tried to scream around it, clawing at her throat, panic overcoming her as she thrashed, trying to get it out, eyes as wide as dinner plates, pointing frantically at her throat where the bulge of the soap bar slid down more and more. Lafawna and Lorel laughed and pointed in turn, as if she was a child who had found something funny to amuse the adults with, slapping their thighs and bellowing at her predicament.

"Oh, look at poor Cherry!"

"Hiccup for us, Cherry, hiccup!"

"That's what you get, Cherry, for using such foul language around us! You should be ashamed of yourself!"

Yet no amount of thrashing helped her out at all, soap foaming from her mouth as she hiccupped furiously and gulped, shaking her head, soaked hair clinging in ragged strands to her skin. Yet each hiccup came with a ridiculously large soap bubble from her lips, frothing around the back of her throat and in the base of her mouth, more and more hugely large bubbles popping from her mouth. They floated around the bathroom as if they had more substance to them than regular bubbles, though panic bubbled into anger in the pit of Cherlyn's stomach, hiccupping madly, adding to the many bubbles already in the air.

"Pop, pop, pop!"

The women laughed as they popped the bubbles, a tiny spray of soap where the film that had made up their surface exploding as they did, though that wasn't something that Cherlyn cared about. She grabbed at Lafawna's arm, though she was only hefted up and bent over the side of the bath, legs kicking and flailing as she scrambled against the slippery, wet surface for any purchase at all, something large pressed up against her backside.

"Relax now, Cherry, you can't be this uptight all the time!"

She didn't know who had said that, but she did not the feeling of something being pushed into her arsehole as Lorel used yet another, large, bar of soap to grease up her backside. The slippery bar did not push into her backside easily at all, not as she squealed and heaved, water dripping from her, taking the palm of Lorel's hand to grind it deeply up into her well-lubricated anus.

"Come on, Cherry!" They laughed over her squealing, weakly thrashing and twisting. "You can do it, you can do it, Cherry!"

It sounded, even to Cherlyn's ears, as if they were repeating set phrases that had no real purpose or meaning there, though she didn't know what to do, wound up from the soap that had been forced down her throat and even more riled up from the bulging bar of soap crammed into her arsehole.

"What... You've got to help me!" She demanded -- and she would have stomped her foot too if she had been at all free to do so. "What do I do? Oh no -- is it stuck in there? You've crammed a goddamn bar of soap up my arse, you freaks!"

"Push it out, Cherry! Come on!" Lorel made a pose as if she was cheering for her, though, somehow, she still managed to tower, the position coming quite naturally to her. "Push it out, push it out. Come on, Cherry: push it out!"

They chanted and Cherlyn growled under her breath, heart hammering, still refusing to acknowledge her own helplessness in the situation, who they were be damned. It didn't matter about anything else, she just had to get the bar out, squatting and straining with a comical groan. It only made them laugh even more, though bearing down and down and down didn't seem to do her any good, water sloshing around her, her backside under the surface.

"Ohhhh," Lafawna guffawed, slapping her thigh. "She looks like a mother hen! Is your egg stuck, mother hen? Come on, hen, lay your egg!"

"I swear, I'll have -- agh!"

She gasped, legs flying up, even from her position, slipping as she'd tried to whirl around and give them a piece of her mind. And, just like that, her anger dissipated, panic overwhelming her, fear for herself, the soap vigorously shooting from her backside.

She splashed into the water with a huge spray, sloshing over the sides of the tub. The bathroom floor had to be near ruined, she thought, even if it was tiled, though there was nothing she could do, even if there was considerable relief there with the soap being out of her backside. She could still feel the weight of the bar she'd swallowed sitting heavily in her stomach and hoped that it would disintegrate naturally, allowing her to pass it. She was not going to go to the doctor about that and let the press have a field day with her, no way!

As always, her thoughts were on herself, hiccupping and with her eyes streaming -- but not crying, never crying. Oh no, for that was not for Cherlyn, never for her, even as she made a strong mental note to correct the women, all over again, that they had not been using her correct name. Something must have gone awry somewhere, but she'd show them all that she was so much better than all of them thought she was. They must all have been living under rocks for fifteen years, not knowing who she was, not knowing her name, treating her like she was some scrappy amateur with big dreams fresh off the boat.

She'd already made her big name, yet Cherlyn did not even realise that everything was being stripped from her, even then, made less than she had ever been before. Even she, however, could not deny the tiny twinge of relief as she was hauled out of the water, huge towels wrapped around her as she was roughly and efficiently towelled dry, the women pressing in around her. Them leaning over her and blocking out the light didn't seem to matter anymore, not with her breath caught, striving to breathe still through the hiccups and soap bubbles, the occasional bubble still popping from her mouth.

"Unff... You... Hic... Can't..."

But Chery's furious words could not find a way, not even then, to force themselves out as they rubbed at her, exposing where the natural tan that she had claimed was real was, in fact, fake, smeared from the chemicals and the water, no longer even across her skin. The makeup had been practically welded onto her face for how much scrubbing it had taken Lafawna and Lorel to even get it off her, smearing across her eyes, black rings fading as they rubbed and rubbed. Her hair dye ran too, lightening her hair another shade, for that was yet another lie about it being her natural colour, even under all the thick mass of extensions Cherlyn'd been wearing. One of her fake eyelashes was still clinging on by the barest thread of hope, dangling down her face, and waved back and forth lightly as she coughed and hiccupped, eyes watering terribly.

She managed to scoop her second eyelash off the bath, though her skin still burned and ached from the chemicals, sticking it back on, though she still cared that it was lopsided. In one small way, it made her feel a little more like herself, even if Cherlyn was not all that sure if she could ever feel anything at all like herself ever again.

Yet the worst was left to come, so much more to come, as Lafawna and Lorel took her into yet another room, back into the hallway and a few doors down in what still had to be the studio -- a room that looked more medical in appearance, as if it was a plain, clinical room in a posher kind of doctor's surgery. If it was a doctor's examination room, however, it was the kind of room where bad news was given with none of the softer furnishings and homely comforts, like fake plants, that had become as popular as they had in recent years.

"Ah, she's finally here!"

Doctors Sing and Amir, tall and busty with cunning smiles on their faces, loomed, Cherlyn trying to stand up tall, even as she was dumped unceremoniously on an examination table. Yet, even more so than when she was being washed, the world around her spiralled out of any control that she might have thought she'd had over it, the Indian women with their hair neatly pulled back and white coats on, protecting their clothes.

"She has the hiccups, doctor," Dr Sing said, musing as Cherlyn tried to sit up, eyes watering from the force of the hiccups. "Dear, oh, dear -- we've got to fix this!"

Lafawna clapped her hands.

"Oh! I know just thing!"

Of course, they did, lunging for her and ripping off those dangling eyelashes as Cherlyn screamed, though the doctors took even less notice of her protests than Lafawna and Lorel had. Though she lunged for them as if clinging to a lifeline, it was not as easy as all that as she was forced to sit up on the table, her hiccups, strangely, gone after such a thing.

The doctors crowded her, looming, though she did not quail, wanting to cling onto some air of being professional still, covering her nudity the best she could.

"Now, now, let's start the exam, Dr Sing!"

"Yes, let us, Dr Amir!"

Their busts squashed against her as she was wrenched about, the table much lower than any that Cherlyn had seen in any doctor's practice before, though those had usually been examination beds. The cold hardness of the table pressed up against her buttocks as they dragged her to the side by her ear and jammed a scope into her ear.

"Dirty! So dirty! Cherry never cleans her ears!"

The other ear was checked, her temperature taken with a small ear thermometer that beeped angrily as Dr Amir shook it, her eyebrows shooting up as if in surprise.

"Goodness, what a hot head! No, oh no, we can't have this!"

Cherlyn could have protested, but everything happened so quickly around her that it was as if she was a cartoon character, her head tilted back, throat and jaw palpated as she gagged. They ignored that, forcing her to open her mouth to look inside, counting her teeth and chasing her wiggling tongue with a tongue depressor.

"Hold her!"

Dr Amir grabbed the back of her neck, forcing her to stick her tongue out as her eyes bulged, yet Cherlyn coughed, eyes streaming, the Indian ladies efficiently working over her. They didn't even treat her as a human being but more like an object, something that could be tossed about, that had to be put through its paces to test it out thoroughly.

"Say ahhhhh!"

Cherlyn tried to comply, the depressor pushing her tongue uncomfortably down between her teeth.

"Ahhhhhh!"

"Ugh!" The doctor waved the depressor, making a revolted face. "It spat on me! Her throat is dry -- spray, please!"

"Right away, doctor!"

They worked so efficiently together that it was difficult to tell the difference between the two doctors, just a mass of breasts and hands that poked and prodded and pinched in all the wrong places, taking her breath away. Cherlyn gasped, a spray nozzle jabbed into the back of her throat for three thick sprays, leaving her hacking and coughing, bending over with her eyes streaming.

"Next!"

A stethoscope was jammed up to her chest, Dr Amir listening to the thudding of her heart.

"Heart rate elevated -- no need for a breast exam though! Not when there's nothing here!"

Cherlyn blushed. It wasn't her fault that her chest was on the flatter side, though...it was how her body was, not something she spent much time thinking about otherwise. Her lips parted to push back, but they only took the chance to jab an otoscope into each nostril, checking up there, though they tutted and clicked their tongues as if everything was wrong with her.

"Can she see this, see this?" Dr Sing said, flashing a bright light into her eyes and zigzagging it back and forth. "Girl, can you see this, follow the light?"

Dr Amir scoffed.

"Don't waste too much time, the thing is dull as a butter knife."

"And about as useful as a chocolate teapot."

"Please... No..." She said, though her voice was raspier, coarser, after the spray. "What have you... You can't... No, you've wrecked my voice! You've ruined it! I can't go on stage and do a solo like this -- agh!"

They ignored her, pushing her off the table and pointing to the ground.

"Quickly now, Cherry, touch your toes, go on now."

She obeyed, not knowing what else to do, still reeling from how her voice had sounded, but when she bent over something was jabbed straight up her arse! She squealed and tried to leap away, but they kept the thermometer in there for much longer than needed (especially as they had already taken her temperature...) as she thrashed in their arms.

How could she fight back after all that, heaving and panting, her face itchy after her washing, all the chemicals working away still, though she could not change the course of events that had led her there. A hand wound into her hair to tilt her head forcibly to one side and then the other, a thick cream smeared into her scalp -- so thickly that it formed another layer, as if she had been painted with lard.