Shine Slut Ch. 02

Poppy foolishly did as she was told while looking down at what she'd been reduced to. Every element seemed specifically chosen to attract attention. The bright colours of the wig, g-string and her own cursed knee highs would inevitably draw the eye. The heels (that she clearly had difficulty walking in) were ostentatiously sleazy, but also served to emphasise her chunky calves and thunderous thighs, while inducing a quite ridiculous mincing little walk out of her. And the flimsy babydoll would alert all in the vicinity that some crazy fat slut had entirely lost her shit and was parading around the streets in her transparent bed-wear. Visible big titties in a fishnet bra and an almost flesh swallowed elephant emblazoned red g-string fully emphasised the destruction of every last shred of dignity. Yet beyond the clownish attire and her cruelly shaved head what caused Poppy by far the most distress was the exposure of her very own unrestrained figure. Her jiggling fat rolls and clammy pale white flesh being fully exposed to passers-by signalled the BBW's greatest humiliation. For a woman so beholden to the values of body positivity and fat acceptance, Poppy felt her ordinarily massive ego shrink at the prospect of the world seeing her as she really was. Yet paradoxically this only caused her sex to throb all the more.

"Okay, enough pathetic prancing. Now bend over the chair. I want to see what miss Piggy will look like working at her new Shine Stand."

Merely bending her knees caused the babydoll to ride further up over Poppy's butt cheeks, but as she bent over the chair the ugly garment lifted dramatically, exposing the entirety of her bare ass, the little red g-string emerging from her crack and a sizeable portion of her lower back. Poppy sighed in orgasmic supplication, as Karolin strutted around taking in the view.

"Perfect. Once we get you tatted up everyone will be able to see evidence of your new vocation. Now stand up." Poppy quivered and even whined at the mention of being 'tatted up'.

"You should be thankful that I'm leaving you with a lot more than my tormenter left me. From the day she snared me to the day a caught you, I was left with little more than the soiled underthings that you found me in. The socks I was wearing under my elegant ankle booties, my thong, that stained blouse and those ugly little slippers that the bitch gifted me after taking my boots. What an angel... As you can now appreciate, I've been so much more generous than her. At least you look like a real slut now." Karolin said with a wicked grin on her face.

Poppy inwardly seethed as she understood that there was absolutely no need to take all of her clothes, her boots and her hair, while dressing her up in attire even more demeaning. Karolin said it herself. The woman who bewitched her had merely stripped away her outer clothes and left her with what she wore underneath, with the exception of the thin little orange slippers. Being transformed into a 'Shine Slut' deprived of her suit and boots would've been bad enough, but even Poppy's red blouse and her big practical polka-dot grannie panties would've been preferable. Even the silly little slippers would've been a bonus compared to the stripper heels!

"Right Miss Piggy, we have a busy afternoon ahead of us. Not only do we need to fix our finances, but we really need to get your make-up done and have you stamped. Then I'll get you set up in your new home. Follow me porky Poppy. Your new life awaits..."

X

Six months later and Poppy lolled drunkenly on the edge of sleep in her rancid bunk. It had been a long hot day on the shine stand and getting fed and liquored up before passing out was all she had to look forward to. As usual the flophouse in which she dwelt was noisily cramped and provided not a shred of privacy. Poor drunken revellers and industrious night workers wondered by often. Occasionally they laughed and chided the inebriated Shine Slut, but most of the time they just shook their heads in dismay at who they were forced to co-habit with. The perpetually shadowy tenement building seemed to be almost entirely stacked full of bunks and there was only one bathroom to serve the many residents.

Poppy lay flopped out with chicken grease around her mouth (unthinkable to the ethical vegetarian of half a year prior) and a bottle of cheap vodka in her hand. She wore only the red elephant g-string provided by Karolin and her own neon green knee highs pulled down around her ankles. The intense heat and lack of ventilation had caused her to shed the wig, babydoll, fishnet bra and shoes along with any sense of shame. Yet still she perspired, as her weight had not reduced by a pound due to the steady intake of cheap unhealthy food that she was forced to eat and the noxious liquor she chose to drink just to make things semi-bearable. Consequently her unreduced pale bare bulk was on show to all who passed. Her dark brown head hair had begun to grow back, but Poppy found that she actually earned more sucking and fucking with the ghastly blue wig than without. The intense heat in the flophouse also meant that going hairless was preferable. So after a couple of months growing her hair back, she'd opted to keep it trimmed down to a skinhead with the clippers that Karolin had 'kindly' left her. Poppy had allowed her pubes to sprout back in a messy bush as her fat folds and elephant thong kept all stray hairs out of the public eye. The bald, drunk fatty with no hair on her head had become a common sight snoring in her bunk night after night. She had no desire to cover her bare body with the thin, but sweaty blanket that came with the bunk.

As she did night after night Poppy thought back to the catalogue of humiliations that had befallen her since the fateful reunion with Karolin. To her undimmed dismay the pangs of pleasure that accompanied any sense of shame since her induction as Shine Slut continued to engorge her sweaty pussy. Karolin's specific humiliation hex had gradually worn of, but Poppy found that the experience had left her with a masochistic kink that refused to budge.

On that first terrible day Karolin's second task had been to see that all of Poppy's assets were signed over to her. This included her apartment, her personal possessions, her savings and Karolin even made a point of telling the new Shine Slut that she would be maxing out her credit (including the company card) and destroying any possibility of future loans should she ever escape her new vocation. After all, the previous Shine Slut had done exactly the same thing to Karolin. Poppy sobbed and begged when she realised that her ruination would not just be about her personal appearance or dignity, but her whole life. Karolin entirely asset stripped the former fat diva and Poppy quickly realised that nothing would ever be the same again.

Karolin then set about finalising Poppy's make-over. The seedy backstreet tattoo parlour (with the worst reviews in the city...) was happy to take the job of ruining the porky bewitched masochist's unblemished face. With a blank canvass before him the substance addicted 'artist' set about transforming Poppy. First were the eyebrows. The two chunky black wedges resembled magic marker daubs. Each was slanted upwards giving Poppy a slightly comical Super Villain look. Worse still, the whooshes of bold black ink sat above the location of where her real eyebrows ordinarily grew. This meant that Poppy would be forced to pluck her own modest brows entirely out of existence to prevent her from looking like even more of a freak with two sets of mismatched eyebrows! Next was the permanent eyeliner. Etched on shakily with all the accuracy of a jonesing addict, Poppy was left with crooked black eyeliner that would've given the impression that the car wreck Shine Slut had applied it drunk, if it didn't look so obviously like a terrible permanent tattoo.

Further down her moon-like face Karolin ordered a messy inked replication of her stick-on beauty spot. The end result resembled a messily textured wart rather than anything that could reasonably be deemed 'beautiful'. A lilac lipliner tattoo was then etched way beyond the boundaries of what could reasonably be considered her actual lips.The end result was a clearly artificial lip-line that when filled in would result in a crude pair of lilac raver-girl blowjob lips. Finally Karolin had the addled artist brand Poppy with the obligatory 'Shine Slut' tramp stamp just above the back panel of her red thong. To add insult to injury Karolin chose a fat jumbo comic font for the letters. Poppy stumbled out of the parlour a transformed woman. Aching from the ink and weak at the knees after taking a long look in the mirror at the gaudy fat gargoyle slut she'd been morphed into.

Six months later in her bunk the untouched-up cosmetic tattoos had faded a little, but were boldly clear to see in their utter awfulness. What little money Poppy did make selling her ass also had to go towards the horrible lilac lipstick that would prevent her lips looking even worse than they already did. Day after day she was forced to begrudgingly fill in the slutty lip-lines and thereby make her mouth into a more attractive cock receptacle. After a long day of slaving away on the stand Poppy had failed to touch up the lips, but the liner and all of the rest of her permanent make-up remained. She looked like nothing more than a tragic strung-out clown stripped of her big red nose, bright blue wig, colourful robes and idiotic clown shoes.

Poppy thought back to the first cock she ever sucked. How it took her two days of trying to walk away from the shine stand and her terrible lodgings. How an invisible barrier seemed to keep her in place. After giving up on escape Poppy spend another two days without food before her resolve broke. The man was a local in the quarter and a regular of the previous Shine Slut. He seemed unimpressed by the new girl's heft, but a blowjob was a blowjob and the prospect of putting his dick into the mouth of a former well-to-do white woman overrode all aesthetic concerns. Tears trickled down the shaft as Poppy crouched down in stripper heels and knee socks, bared her big exposed booty and sucked off the degenerate for the busy street to see. It took another week before she let the first man fuck her behind the shine stand. He was a sex tourist who visited the Arab Quarter specifically to indulge. Again he asked after the previous 'skinny blonde' Shine Slut, but was happy to fuck the portly car wreck with her elephant thong wrapped around her left socked ankle. It was another month before she took it in the ass. A lifetime first for Poppy and a thoroughly unpleasant experience, as the fat businessman drilled her on hands and knees behind the shine stand.

Then there were the neon green nylon knee socks. Despite feeling utterly stupid in the one last sartorial shred of the old Poppy, the Shine Slut found it hard to give them up. As foolish as they were, each time she looked at the hosiery Poppy was struck by the fond recollection of how it once felt to pull them on clean in her luxury loft. Panties, knee socks, bra, girdle, suit trousers and then they would be zipped up and hidden in the warm, confidence imbuing confines of whatever lofty defined high heeled boots she happened to be wearing that day. Another more practical reason for keeping the knee highs was due to the handful of regular freaks who requested a soft nylon clad sock-job behind the stand. Unfortunately this resulted in faded white cum stains stretching from her insoles up to her calfs. Despite washing her socks in the courtyard every few days, Poppy never quite managed to shift the stains or the cheesy aroma of her sweaty feet from the neon nylons.

One thing that surprised Poppy was the amount of actual shoe shining she was forced to do. Her skills were amateurish at best, but the men who sat on the throne weren't there for shiny shoes. No, they clearly attained gratification from having some scantily clad wretch slaving away at their feet.

Less common, but no less notable were the women who attended for a shine. Again, the power that came with having a fallen fatty fussing over their feet was the primary motivation. Somehow this came to feel even more wretchedly humbling than the sex acts she was compelled to perform. To have someone much like the woman she used to be literally looking down at her from up on high was intolerable. Yet Poppy also realised that it was through these perversely cruel women that salvation loomed. If just one lost her grip on the slippery pole of power and allowed Poppy to inveigle her way into her perverse psyche then Poppy would be a platform stripper soled step away from liberation. But Poppy was yet to meet the bitch that she could best...

It was a couple of months in when her old colleagues, both underlings and peers, began to arrive for a gander at the fallen woman. Somehow Karolin had got the word out at the company. 'Want to know what happened to Poppy Davenport? Check out the shine stand near the station in the Arab Quarter...' Some came in pairs and others alone. A nerd she once enjoyed terrorising from technical support regularly visited to smugly receive a blowjob from his old destroyed boss. But even that was preferable to the parade of former colleagues from the executive board who came down to take photos and quiz Poppy with faux-sympathy on how the high-flying executive had ended up exposed and ruined on a shine stand. Of course nobody ever offered to help the destitute woman. The best she could hope for was some spare change or enduring the indignity of having a crumpled note poked into her thong elastic or the top of one of her socks. Then there were the secretaries. Gaggles of women she'd formerly looked down on would make lunch dates to visit Poppy and torment her as she woefully shined their shoes and boots.

At five months tragedy struck. While passed out drunk and bare in her bunk a sneak thief had stolen the expensive toe-ring from her left second toe. Poppy had kept it as an insurance policy against not having enough money for rent, food, drink and lilac lipstick. She'd also kept it as a keepsake from her old affluent life. The thief also located her wig and fished out every last penny she'd kept hidden there. Of course the scumbag could've also done away with her clothes shoes and wig, leaving Poppy with nothing but an elephant thong to her name, but the Shine Slut failed to see the bright side when she awoke from her vodka induced slumber. Unfortunately the rent was due the following morning. The grinning fat Arab who acted as slumlord demanded payment in kind from that point on. As a result Poppy became on tap pussy for both the landlord and any of his friends who happened to be around. Every other evening she'd find herself being stripped and fucked by strangers in the utility closet that the landlord called an office. The first six months had been pure abject horror for the fallen fatty.

It was the morning after these drunken reminiscences that Poppy once again found herself sweatily pouting at passing trade from the Shine Stand.

"Gimme a shine?" Enquired the New York drawl to her right. Like a dozy heifer Poppy looked up at the potential trade. The petite young woman in a trouser suit leered with a trace of malevolence in her dark eyes. She had a pretty elfin face and a glossy black bob with ostentatious pointed bangs. The make-up and hair screamed 'goth', but the cut of her shimmering black velvet trouser suit signalled money and status. Poppy glanced at the lofty black platform boots that imbued the short woman with at least two extra inches. She then looked back to the dark eyes and curled lips painted a glossy black. Despite the scornful tough girl attitude and artifice Poppy was suddenly struck by the notion that before her could be the one she'd been waiting for. A potential ticket away from the shine stand. Poppy's stained yellow teeth clashed with her lilac lips as the Shine Slut smiled wide and prepared to shine...