Doomflares

They called her Doomflares. A stuck-up witchy little bitch who had spent two years tottering ghost-like around college thinking she was way better than everybody else. Powdery pale white skin, glossy raven hair, a litany of metal band shirts, lofty platform boots and those ever present black flared jeans.

The end of year exams had pretty much concluded and the gaggle of popular girls lounging on the grass along the riverside were thankful that they'd never have to set eyes on the gothy little skank ever again.

Except they did... Striding nearby the girls and towards the river on her way home from college for the last time. She was surely destined for some fancy university far from the decidedly mundane environs of the moderately sized southern English town that they she'd grown up in. Doomflares had exited the rear entrance of the college which led to a short cut along the river to the moderately busy town centre.

Despite the hot summer conditions, Doomflares was outfitted in her usual get-up with the addition of a tatty leather jacket. Her straight centre-parted black hair rested upon slightly hunched leather-clad shoulders. Under the jacket Doomflares wore a black t-shirt emblazoned with the words 'Electric Wizard' beneath a depiction of a demon. The black denim trousers were slim fit up top, but then billowed out by the time they reached her feet. In contrast to the usual chunky Bride of Frankenstein platform boots she wore, Doomflares had gone for a sharply pointed and spectacularly shiny pair of black stiletto boots. Only the pointy toes and spike like heel were visible beneath the broad cuffs of the jeans. In her left hand she carried a black shiny buckled leather satchel akin to something Van Helsing would keep wooden stakes in. Admittedly, the hot grass affected her lofty high-heeled canter somewhat, but the tottering goth seemed utterly unperturbed by the watching group. Just another gaggle of fake tanned airheads in bikini tops and short-shorts. So what...

As usual, Doomflares' heavily powdered face was almost corpse white. Her lips were painted a gothy purple and she wore a pair of big circular black sun glasses with chunky frames. The shades conveyed a sense of laid back arrogance that rendered her facial expression inscrutable. So much so that the popular girls detected no change to her glacial manner when she realised that she was on course to where the five girls and two topless buff college boys lounged with bottles of cheap white wine and paper cups. Her nonchalance enraged the popular girls.

The popular girls had never had any real interaction with Doomflares, but her manner was always frosty. A ghost of a sneer seemed to pass across her face whenever she encountered them. It was clear to all that Doomflares was a proud loner. Following her own path, she obviously couldn't care less what people thought of her. As much of a joke as the popular girls believed Doomflares to be, the sheer gall of her arrogance enraged them beyond reason. How on earth could she hold herself in such high regard?

Doomflares was actually a number of years older than most taking their A-levels at the local college. For reasons unknown Doomflares had rocked up at twenty three and was twenty five upon graduation. This made the self-possessed metaller quite the mature older woman in contrast to the eighteen to twenty year old students who took courses during the day. Perhaps those extra years had affected her outlook on life and popularity, but you wouldn't necessarily know it to look at her. Doomflares looked twenty at most. A pretty round(ish) face rendered sharp by cosmetics and a little on the short side, Doomflares was likely out of shape in comparison to the five toned and tanned popular girls, but her outfits kept her well covered up. The popular girls could only speculate on what lay beneath the façade.

What happened next was the combination of a chance encounter, alcohol fuelled cruelty and a devil-may-care level of excitement born of all five girls graduating from college and preparing to move on. Perhaps if Doomflares had changed direction then the girls would've hurled a few insults her way and left it at that. But arrogant to the end, Doomflares wasn't going to change course in fear of a few airheaded bimbos.

The most dominant popular girl (Tammy) stood and wandered over to where Doomflares was walking. Tall, tanned, blonde, conventionally attractive and sporting only a pink two-piece bikini, the other girls followed her and the boys watched with bemused curiosity. Tammy spat out a few petty insults and attempted to block the loner's path. Inscrutable as ever, Doomflares ignored the goading and walked around her. This seemed to push the Tammy over the edge. Perhaps it was the expressions on the faces of her somewhat underwhelmed accomplices who had arisen and slowly followed. Finally, she allowed the goth to pass, but the woman took just one step before Tammy tripped her from behind. Doomflares' spike heels clicked together and then she was down. Sprawled out on the grass in mute shock. Tammy wasted not a second. Down she went. With a powerful knee pinning Doomflares at the small of her back, the aggressor yelled at her nearby friends,

"Who wants to see her in a bikini?! Get her boots and jeans off! We're gonna strip the witch!".

There was zero hesitation from the gang. Forward they pounced. For the first time Doomflare's glacial cool began to crack. Still she said nothing, but her pinned body began to wiggle wildly. Her fists pounded the grass and her high-heeled booted feet kicked, but there was no moving the stronger girl. The others were on her in a second. Shrill laughter and squeals rang out as they fought to grab a leg. The boys stayed seated, but looked on with glee.

As she kicked, Doomflares' wayward black denim trouser cuffs inevitably fell back to reveal her lower legs. The glossy black boots stretched tight to just below her knees. The white of her knees above was a pastier less theatrical white to that of her painted face, while the unexpectedly chubby bare flesh below her knee swelled out against the tight zipped-up rim of the svelte boot.

Doomflares' struggles reached a frenzy as one of the giggling popular girls got a hold of the zip and began wrenching it down. The formerly entombed bare lower leg popped pale and sweaty from the confines of the boot. Only when the zip parted to her chubby ankle did a thin bright hot pink little nylon sock become visible. There it nestled, slutty bright neon pink and almost sheer in contrast to her tough black witch girl exterior. Finally the boot was wrenched from her pink socked foot and tossed away. Despite previously looking relatively cool beneath the hot summer sun, the removal of the boot revealed just how hot she obviously was. Not only was her lower leg clammy to the touch, but the thin sock that rested below her ankle was visibly damp. And with the removal of the deceptive boot Doomflares' was robbed of all elegant definition below the knee. A chubby lower leg with scant ankle definition ended in a round little pink socked foot. Five toe nails painted black were visible through the thin fabric of her sock, but the pointy toed profile of the boot was long gone. Her hairless leg was white and incredibly clammy.

The girls then moved onto the other boot. They eagerly unzipped it and wrenched down the upper portion of the boot when Tammy ordered them to start on Doomflares' ubiquitous denim flares. Perhaps the fallen witch's struggles were growing too frenzied to handle. As a consequence the other knee boot had been peeled down to the ankle, but the lower portion of the boot remained on her foot. Again a sweaty lower leg was revealed, as was the damp pink sock peaking from the parted zip.

Tammy was forced to move up Doomflares' back a bit to reach the top of the jet black jeans. Her jacket and t-shirt were bunched to midway up her back. As the girls sought out the ostentatious silver fanged gothy belt buckle, buttons and zip of the jeans, Doomflares had a little more luck clawing backwards at her attackers with pointed black nails. This prompted Tammy to change her position. Instead of pinning down her back with a sturdy bronzed knee, she moved to totally straddle the wiggling woman. Tammy moved fast and sprawled across the goth girl's upper back, placing each of her thighs on the upper arms of the struggling older woman. Doomflares was trapped. Arms pinned in front of her and face in the grass.

"I think we need to wipe off some of your witchy poo make-up!" Tammy announced in a shrill cutesy voice. She then proceeded to wipe Doomflares' face back and forth across the grass. It was hardly brutal, but was undoubtedly uncomfortable. Meanwhile, with the woman's shirt, jacket and clawing hands out of the way, the other girls got down to the business of taking off her flares.

"She's wearing a corset!" Yelled of the girls, as they got a good look at the shiny black and red striped gothy support garment that stretched up her back. Then with two girls unfastening the jeans and two pulling at each leg, the offending 'doomflares' were slowly pulled down.

The corset stretched down to the top of Doomflare's butt. More pasty sun deprived skin was revealed, but the popular girls were this time looking at her lower back and butt crack, within which was nestled a baby pink thong quite unbecoming of a young witch.

Despite the sudden humiliating attack, Doomflares was yet to utter a noise of discomfort, much less a word of protest. All she could do was wiggle as the flares were slowly peeled from her chunky pale white upper thighs, down her lower legs and off at the feet. This left the sun starved bad girl kicking her bare legs in impotent frustration. Gone were the offending flares and revealed were her short stubby legs. One hot pink nylon socked foot flexed for purchase, while the other kicked around viciously, still partially encased in the peeled down pointed, glossy, spike-heeled boot.

Myriad stinging slaps then rained down on her exposed bubble butt cheeks. Both of which were utterly exposed, as the sweaty baby pink thong vanished into her cavernous crack and left little to the imagination.

"I think little miss witch is still somewhat overdressed." Announced Tammy from her mounted position. In a slick, athletic move that left Doomflares no opportunity to wiggle free, Tammy span around. She repined the arms with her powerful lower legs, but sat facing the lower back and legs. From there she wrenched the leather jacket and moist black metal t-shirt right up the struggling goth's back. This left the corset exposed to all. The girls quickly set about unfastening the archaic vampish support garment, while also slapping out a steady beat on her rapidly reddening butt. Even as the corset was wrenched away and her porky middle exposed, still the morbid woman hadn't uttered a peep. Muffin tops suddenly sprouted above her frayed thong elastic and an unexpectedly flabby middle spilled out sweaty into the hot afternoon sun. Tammy then relented her downward pressure slightly, but only to flip the increasingly passive victim onto her back. Tammy eased off briefly and allowed Doomflares' hands the futile task of trying to both cover what had been exposed and beat back probing fingers.

"Check out that jiggle!" Squealed one of the boisterous girls, as the flabby white belly came into view. An impromptu chorus of "Jelly Belly! Jelly Belly Jelly Belly!" rang loud across the riverside. Myriad hands grabbed a pinch of her exposed pork belly rolls and Doomflares bucked hard than ever. Indeed, the corset had covered a multitude of sins. Clammy white and reddened slightly where her thick belt had cut into her, Doomflares' torso was a testament to a bad diet and no exercise. Teasing hands continued to pinch, pull and oddly caress her suddenly exposed fat rolls

"Hello Kitty!" Roared one of the girls. To the amazement of all a white 'Hello Kitty' image was emblazoned on the front of the tacky baby pink thong. To make matters worse for Doomflares, the pathetic panties left very little to the imagination in the front, as well as the back. Visibly protruding from behind the Kitty was the clear outline of a small bulge. So little was left to the imagination that it was clear that Doomflares was shaved entirely bare down below. Whoops of laughter rang loud, as all assembled took in the embarrassing underwear, but were as yet unaware of what nestled within...

And it was then that the girls got a good look at her face for the first time since the attack began. The face full of grass had smeared her metallic purple lipstick and her chalky foundation was grubby around the cheeks, but to the surprise of all, Doomflares still wore her dark sunglasses and an expression of aloof cool paradoxically at odds with her distressed state below the neck. With jacket and t-shirt wrenched up above a flabby belly that was on the verge of drooping over her 'Hello Kitty' panties, bare legs that had never once seen the sun and sweaty little hot pink nylon socks exposed, Doomflares still retained that enraging expression of cool girl nonchalance. A bitch-faced frozen façade entirely at odds with the panic that caused her to manically wriggle. Her restrained arms and hands flexed down enough to reach below and cover her little panty bulge, but such effort barely showed on her face.

Irony of ironies, it was almost as if she was too cool to properly respond to what was happening. To fight, to lash out, to curse or even to cry. Instead, the ice queen almost acted as if it wasn't happening. As if her obsidian artifice hadn't been almost completely stripped away from her. That if she ignored the humiliating experience for long enough, the demeaning episode could be walked away from and eventually recede into the distance behind her.

Perhaps at that point the cadre of bronzed harpies would've let Doomflares go if only she'd cried out in anguish and leaked a few tears. Instead, she retained that strange expression of perceived superiority. As a consequence, Tammy was no way near finished.

"I think Doomflares needs a little more sun on her pasty white arse!" She then set about roughly removing the leather jacket and stretching the 'Electric Wizard' t-shirt to breaking point. Doomflares struggled, but the physically superior girl proved impossible to shake off. A whimper finally escaped from between Doomflares' increasingly pouty lips, as she watched her prized leather jacket disappear behind the gaggle of girls.

The force with which Tammy wrenched the goth around by the t-shirt reduced her to a chubby ragdoll. Doomflares found herself tugged to her one socked foot and one tottering peeled down high-heeled boot only to be slammed back down again. Raucous squeals rang loud as the t-shirt finally ripped at the neck. It was then a mere formality for Tammy to then rip the rag like shirt from her bare, clammy torso. As Doomflares was barely standing when the shirt came off, Tammy made light work of tripping her back down onto her chubby butt again. A guttural moan escaped her lips as she collided with the warm grass. She sat up and into a crouch and instinctively tried to reduce her humiliating exposure. Her left arm covered her crop top encased titties, while her right arm darted down to cover the bulge down below. Curled up into a sitting position the belly and her pulled in legs completely enveloped the 'Hello Kitty' thong and her hand. All that was visible of the embarrassing teeny-tiny panties was the pink elastic on each of her flabby flanks, and these almost swallowed by her fleshy muffin tops. From a distance the sun starved woman surely looked nude other than her sunglasses, crop top, socks and one boot.

The gang gleefully took in Doomflares stooped white red pimpled shoulders and the ruby red bra top that encased her impressive rack. The shiny spandex garment was like a miniature vest. It reached up to her neck and down to the top of her belly flab. Tammy then moved behind Doomflares and wrenched backwards. The young woman flailed her arms out instinctively and deserted her tits and bulge. Her bare arse scraped across the grass and the thong rolled down out of her crack to the top of her thighs. As were legs straightened and kicked out the pink pouch still covered her sex, but only just. One of the gang grasped the remaining boot and deftly removed it. This left Doomflares in only her tacky pink nylon socks that sat south of each ankle and were already grubby brown on the soles.

As her hands darted forward to hold on to her departing thong, Tammy succeeded in dragging up the spandex top to her neck and over her head, unveiling Doomflares' black and white striped cotton bra to the world. She then set about painfully wrenching on the back of the bra, but this proved ineffective in unclasping the stretched garment. On the verge of frustration, Tammy kneeled on Doomflares' shoulders and set about getting to grips with the clasps. Seeing that the end was near for retaining even a modicum of dignity, Doomflares began clawing up at the girl on her shoulders. Seeing an opportunity to help, the other girls rushed forward and seized their victim's clawing fingers. It was at this point that one of the spiteful women grabbed a fistful of raven hair. One meaty tug revealed a secret that nobody could've guessed. The hair puller was perhaps most surprised to stagger back with the entirety of Doomflares' straight glossy back mane.

Doomflares gothy locks were revealed to be a wig! Shrieks of delight rang loud in the wake of the great reveal. Beneath the wig sat a sopping black stocking cap. Desperate to get a gander at Doomflares' real 'do', one of the other girls wasted no time in peeling it away. Corse, over-dyed, thin, sweaty and unhealthy looking short faded blue hair had been slicked back using some sort of cheap gel and tied into a little knot at the back of her head. This was undoubtedly an effort to get the hair as flat as possible for the application of the stocking cap and wig. Unfortunately, the gel leant the hair a spiky effect that caused the hair to spring up slightly as it was tugged on and untethered from the knot.

"It's Sonic the Hedgehog!" Roared one of the girls cruelly. This was indeed an exquisitely humiliating bonus for the popular girls.

The sudden additional exposure caused Doomflares to instinctively reach up and cover the embarrassing blue hair. This gave Tammy the unhindered opportunity to unfasten the bra and wrench from the left. So great was Doomflares concern for her hair that she'd barely time to blink before the bra came away from her tubby torso. But to the amazement of all the cotton bra wasn't the only thing to fall away from the beleaguered metaller. Into her lap plopped two thick fuzzy red and white bed socks, two hefty clear chicken fillet falsies and two soft black nylon pop socks. The latter were presumably intended to rest upon her tender nipples. What remained was a far cry from the rack of only moments before. The titties were mere fatty little mounds. Only her big pink nipples matched up to the façade. The modest mounds barely even qualified as titties in the eyes of the decently endowed popular girls. That Doomflares was out of shape didn't surprise the popular girls too much. What surprised them was the multitude of sins that her metal girl attire concealed.

A sense of collective justification swept over the gang as they regarded their stripped down quarry. Far from feeling any pity for their unwitting rival, the girls felt smugly vindicated in exposing the fake for what she was. In their twisted materialistic milieu it stood to reason that pretenders should be exposed and denounced. And as pretenders went Doomflares excelled. The stripped down fatty before them had transgressed on a multitude of fronts.