The Greatest Humiliation Story Ch. 05

Part 5: The Set-Up

Mrs. Lovington had been floating on cloud nine, ever since she utterly destroyed her archenemy, Rachel Trovolli. The Empress truly began to believe that she was invincible: A real-life, modern day Queen. Nay, not just a queen:

A Goddess.

And soon Mrs. Lacy Lovington - the most BEAUTIFUL woman in Middletown - would once again receive her crown!

At home, she couldn't stop talking about her demolishment of Rachel: "That little pipsqueak won't dare to show her face ever again! Ha, ha, ha, ha!! Remember the expression on her face when we measured her tiny little tits! 28 inches! Ha!"

She even proudly showed us the laxative she used to spike Rachel's drink, and was using photographs of Rachel Trovolli as her personal screensaver! Sometimes I'd catch her sipping Merlot late at night, watching those images on a perpetual loop... and cackling with glee! There on the computer was the toughest, sexiest girl in town, naked and helpless...

Her only disappointment was the media blackout: Because Rachel was, ostensibly, the children's Queen, there was uncertainty of her age. Mrs. Lovington insisted to everyone that she really was 23, but the media outlets were wary of airing any images of a minor in a state of undress. Almost none of the footage was ever reshown. And yes, there were plenty of eye witnesses, but almost no one from Rachel's side of the tracks believed that the puny, titless, pigtailed girl going poo-poo in the streets could POSSIBLY be Rachel.

It just didn't seem plausible!

Further complicating matters was the fact that the brunette beauty had completely dropped out of sight. I looked for her in her favorite pool halls and whiskey joints, and every time I heard the purr of a motorcycle engine, I turned my head, hoping it might be her.

But... no Rachel.

Back at the Lovington's abode, things had taken a turn for the worse for Timmy and me: Because the Empress was so pleased with Abby and Yvette's assistance in the downfall of her archrival, she had given them back all their old privileges and suspended their punishments. This meant the bitch-cousins were free to be their bitchy, horrible, egotistical selves. Once again, Abby was using her girdle and wearing sexy clothes - and once again, Yvette was "mature" and sophisticated, dressing like a 30-something vixen with well-rounded tits (well, falsies). All their punishments had been suspended, and the diapers, baby jammies, workout tapes and crib were returned to the attic.

The bitch-cousins pretended like the previous indignities had never even happened: Abby was as arrogant as ever, acting as if she was the hottest thing on two feet. She dressed like a supermodel, flaunting her assets. Yvette was back to sneering at all the "losers" in Middletown, turning up her nose at everyone else. Once again, everything our town had to offer was "immature" and utterly beneath her.

But to us - Timmy and me - well...

Those awful two girls took their revenge, stripping Timmy and me when I spent the night! We might've been 18-year-old high school seniors, but we weren't very strong; no matter how much we struggled, they simply overpowered us. Without breaking a sweat, they held us down, peeled off our clothes, and took turns spanking our asses until it hurt so bad, we broke down in tears!

"Aw, look at the baby boys! Are widdle Timmy and his friend CRYING?" giggled Abby.

"Well, you KNOW how immature they are!" answered Yvette. "I don't care if they're high school seniors or not; we both know they're still just babies. And what do babies wear...?"

I think you know what's coming next: Those BITCHES held us down on our backs, pulled back our legs... and they fucking diapered us!

"Aren't they cute!" laughed Abby. "But they're missing something..."

Abby pulled two baby bonnets from her purse. Within seconds, we were wearing that, too.

We hoped that would be the end of it, but Yvette grabbed her video camera. Timmy and me looked at each other, confused. But once we received their orders, we were degraded beyond earthly comprehension:

Those motherfucking BITCHES filmed us in the backyard, wearing nothing but a diaper and bonnet, singing, "I'm a widdle teapot, short and stout! Here is my handle, here is my..."

Christ!

Then they let us go... warning us that if we EVER spoke a word of what had happened to the two of them earlier - how Flabby Abby was a fat, naked piggy and Yvette a flatchested girl who needed help wiping - they'd make copies of the video and send it to every girl in town!

That was the last time I spent the night over. I still saw Timmy in school and would visit him at his house during the day, but I REFUSED to stay overnight for as long as the bitch-cousins were there... and from the stories Timmy told me in the schoolyard, I had definitely made the wise decision!

During the afternoon it was usually safe, because Mrs. Lovington was nearby. And it was during the afternoon of February 12 when Mrs. Lovington called everyone over: She just received something VERY exciting in the mail!

"Listen to this," she breathlessly read, holding a monogramed letter in her hand. "The P.H. Society of Middletown has hereby awarded ME their Woman of the Year trophy!"

"Awesome! Um... what's the P.H. Society, Aunt Lacy?" asked Yvette.

The blonde, busty MILF shrugged her shoulders, maintaining her enormous smile.

"I don't know - I think it's a beauty organization - 'P.H.' usually refers to P.H. balance. Right? Like, in beauty products? Anyway, that's not what's important. The letter says that 'In recognition of Mrs. Lacy Lovington being crowned Queen of the City for an unprecedented eight straight years, on February 14, she will have her Valentine's Day Festival makeup and hair prepared by the P.H. Society's award-winning stylists at our brand-new spa. It's a special honor for the most beautiful woman in town.' Did you hear that? 'The most beautiful woman in town!' Ooh, and it gets better: I can bring two friends with me to be styled as well - free of charge!"

"Hooray!" clapped Abby. "Can me and Yvette come?"

Mrs. Lovington kept reading the line "the most beautiful woman in town" over and over again in her head. Minutes flew by. Then, startled, she looked up:

"What? Oh, yes. You two can definitely come! It'll be our... victory celebration!"

The bitch-cousins hugged each other in excitement... and Mrs. Lovington continued rereading the line, "the most beautiful woman in town" for the next hour. I could see her lips move when I walked by.

So here it was, February 14, mere hours before the Festival. Abby and Yvette were standing in the living room... and even though I HATED THEM, I had to admit that they looked... gorgeous.

Absolutely gorgeous.

Abby was wearing a red-hot evening gown and red-hot heels. Along with her red hair and shapely figure, she was breathtaking. (I had to remind myself that there was a girdle beneath all this beauty - and what Abby looked like naked, fat and peeing in the bath tub - because the way she looked now, her beauty nearly sent my heart into palpitations!)

Yvette walked in wearing a midnight blue formal gown, black gloves and a fancy black hat. She could've easily passed for her early 30s. Just like Abby, she was so beautiful and dreamy, it was too damn easy to forget what a BITCH she was... so I made myself remember what she looked like flatchested and buck-ass naked, farting on a training-potty!

Maybe it was my adolescent hormones playing mind-games with me... but I could feel myself falling in love with them both. I mean, yeah, I knew what evil cunts they were... but they looked SO GOOD...

"How come you girls are already dressed up and wearing makeup?" Timmy asked. "Aren't you going to get a beauty treatment from the P.H. Society before the Festival?"

Yvette rolled her eyes and put her hands on her hips.

"You're so immature!" she chided. "Little Timmy, when you go to an elite specialist like the P.H. Society, you want them to see how sexy you already look. That way, they can help you improve it. Duh!"

"...Although to be honest," added Abby, staring into her hand-mirror, "when you look THIS good, it's almost impossible to improve!"

Then came the Queen:

Wearing a white flowing gown with blue accents, she looked like a Disney princess! (I think Elsa from Frozen stole Mrs. Lovington's dress-design, to give you an idea of what it looked like.) Her thick blonde locks were piled high on her head, and a crystal tiara was already in her hair. With her zillion-dollar jewelry and exquisite makeup, Timmy's Mom had NEVER looked better.

Even Abby and Yvette applauded. I dropped to my knee and bowed... 'cause it just seemed like the proper thing to do!

Mrs. Lovington smiled her Victorian smile and nodded in approval at the bitch-cousins:

"Abby and Yvette, you both look beautiful. Visions of beauty!"

Her nieces beamed. Then the Empress checked her watch:

"Two hours before the Valentine's Day Festival begins. Plenty of time. Let's head over to the address the P.H. Society gave us for our expert styling. Teehee! I can hardly wait, but frankly, girls, when you look as good as WE do, there's not much to improve upon."

"That's what I said!" agreed Abby.

We all got into Mrs. Lovington's super-big, brand-new Cadillac SUV (Timmy and me had to cram into the very back so the "beautiful girls" could have more room) and drove through downtown Middletown. The P.H. Society's address was adjacent to the Festival grounds. ("How nice. This means we can walk over when we're done," noted the Queen.) We parked right outside.

"Funny, I've never noticed this building before, Mum," said Timmy.

"A construction crew was working around the clock... they put the building up in just two weeks," Mrs. Lovington replied. "They must be VERY rich to afford so many builders working overtime. I'm surprised they haven't asked ME to join the P.H. Society. After all... well, just LOOK at me!"

We walked inside the building, and you could tell it was brand-new: It had that "new building" smell.

We looked around: There was a fancy fountain in the middle. Five styling chairs by the walls. Beautiful, custom-built bookshelves and very nice furniture. To the side was what appeared to be a locker room. Near the front door was a clothes rack, but only one item of clothing was on it:

The pink, little-girl dress the Queen had forced Rachel to wear.

"Hey, look!" said Yvette, noting the dress as well. "What's that doing here?"

"I dunno, but I hope they washed it!" giggled Abby.

Mrs. Lovington spotted the liquor cabinet on the far wall: "Hmm. Apparently, they have a social hour. That's nice... lots of bourbon and whiskey, though... Hmm. You'd expect more Dom Pérignon from an organization as classy as the P.H. Society."

"Maybe it's mostly men," Yvette thoughtfully offered. "Really rich men!"

Timmy had gone to explore the area that looked like a locker room. He poked out his head and reported:

"Mum, it's really nice in there! Private shower stalls, lockers - and even one VIP private shower. I checked it out: The VIP shower has thick privacy doors, three shower heads, built-in music and all kinds of soaps, oils and shampoo! It's like a spa fit for a Queen!"

"How appropriate," smirked Mrs. Lovington.

Just then, the front door swung open. In walked three large, good-looking men. They were dressed in fancy suits, but you could tell that they were quite muscular.

"Good afternoon, ladies! ...and, er, boys," the man in the middle said in an unusual accent. "Welcome to the new Middletown headquarters of the ancient order of the P.H. Society. My name is Mr. William Yard, Executive Director. These are my associates, Mr. Jones and Mr. Smith."

The two associates bowed courteously, and then kissed each of the ladies on their hands. Abby and Yvette just about fainted! Even Mrs. Lovington blushed.

"My goodness!" exclaimed the Empress, fanning herself. "It's such a pleasure to meet TRUE gentlemen!"

"The pleasure is all mine, my dear. Mr. Jones and Mr. Smith are two of the finest stylists and cosmetic artists in Europe. We've brought them in especially to take wonderful care of you beautiful ladies."

The bitch-cousins clapped their hands in glee at the prospect of being pampered by these handsome hunks. (Timmy and me rolled our eyes in disgust!)

"De pleasure izz all ourz, madam!" said Mr. Smith, bowing once again.

"But before we begin," continued Mr. William Yard, "do any of you lovely ladies have any questions?"

"No! Let's get started right away!" squealed Abby.

Everyone laughed. But Mrs. Lovington had a question:

"The dress hanging on the wall over there... that pink little-girl dress. Why is it there?"

"Sister Angelica of the Middletown Catholic Orphanage will be bringing a group of orphan-girls to visit, including the lucky Festival Queen, little Tammy Brown. This dress is for her. You see, the P.H. Society takes enormous pride in our commitment to community activism."

"That's so noble," said the Empress through a phony smile. "I love helping the community, too. It's ALL about the children! Why, I just LIVE to help the... y'know... poor, filthy underprivileged."

Mr. William Yard bowed again.

"And that's precisely why we're so proud to honor you, madam," he said. "Your beauty is only surpassed by your generosity."

Ugh! Gag me! I felt my stomach getting queasy, but the Queen and her two minions were gobbling this garbage up with a spoon...

"Tell me," purred Yvette, grabbing Mr. Jones by his big bicep and speaking with her most mature voice, "does the P.H. Society have parties? Where... WE could attend?"

"Normally our galas are strictly members-only, madam," Mr. Jones answered. "But given how beautiful and enchanting the three of you are, I'm of the opinion we should make an exception."

"You should, you should!" agreed Abby, shoving her big, fat tits in front of the men and batting her lashes.

Timmy and me looked at each other and rolled our eyes. What a bunch of phonies!

(Little did I know how right we were...)

"I like what I'm hearing," cooed Mrs. Lovington. "Well, let's begin! How shall we get started?"

Mr. William Yard pointed to the entrance to the locker room:

"The lovely Yvette and the adorable Abby should go take a shower in our deluxe, state-of-the-art spa room. We've handpicked the finest soaps, shampoos and exotic oils from Paris, London, and the Maharaja of India. Please, use them all. You'll find that each and every pore will shine with a sparkle worthy of a Goddess! It's a very important part of the beauty process - reinvigorating every inch of your body. Trust me, my ladies, you'll be positively radiant."

Abby and Yvette nodded at each other, grinning like the cat that swallowed the mouse. (Or in Abby's case, mice!)

"It's important for you to use the shampoos and conditioners as well. Not only will your beautiful hair gleam with a golden luster unlike anything you've ever seen before, but all the impurities will be stripped away, allowing Mr. Smith and Mr. Jones to work their magic!"

Mrs. Lovington had a concerned look on her face: "Um... I'M a natural blonde - as I'm SURE you can tell - but, um... ABBY here dyes her hair..."

"Aunt Lacy!" protested Abby.

"It's okay," laughed Mr. Yard. "The hair products are 100 percent safe for colorants. And you have my word, Miss Abby: Your exquisite red hair looks like it was spun from the enchanted loom of Aphrodite herself."

Reassured, Abby shot her aunt a defiant snarl.

"And you, the Queen of the City, the incomparable Lady Lacy Lovington," continued Mr. Yard, "should do the same - only YOU will be granted full use of the P.H. Society's VIP, ultra-luxury private spa suite. All the same oils, fragrances, soaps and shampoos are there, but you'll be provided extra room, greater privacy and enhanced comfort - because our Queen deserves nothing less!"

The three women were practically floating in the air... and my stomach was feeling nauseous! It made me SICK to see those horrible, evil BITCHES being treated like royalty.

Mr. Smith spoke up: "I humbly ask for zee lovely ladies to take zee full hour showering, soaping, shampooing, conditioning and reinvigorating. It takes zee full hour to optimize zee use of zese exotic ingredients, and we spared no expense!"

"A full hour?" asked the Queen, looking concerned. She checked her watch. "The Festival isn't that far away from beginning... and I must be center-stage to accept the crown. After showering for a full hour and redressing, that won't give your team much time to fix our hair and reapply our makeup... will it?"

Mr. Smith laughed.

"Respectfully, my Lady, with three women as beautiful as zee three of you, we won't need more than minutes! Zee beauty treatments in the shower does most of zee work for us. Your wrinkle-free skin will glow with a fabulous, sensuous femininity. Your hair will be instantly-manageable. By working fast, we maximize your beauty-potential. On my word of honor, you'll never look zee same again!"

"And besides," added Mr. Jones, "we happen to be extremely good at what we do."

"You're in excellent hands, Lady Lacy Lovington," beamed Mr. William Yard. "Shall we begin?"

"Yes! Yes, we should!"

"Wonderful. Lady Lacy Lovington, your VIP luxury suite is on the left. Miss Abby and Miss Yvette, your spa area is on the right. You'll find ample room to hang your dresses, as well as a locker to place your, ahem, personal feminine items."

"'Personal feminine items?'" giggled Abby. "You mean our bra and panties? Not to worry: I'm not wearing any!"

Dammit... I couldn't help it, but a tent popped up in my pants! What was WRONG with me?!

Startled, Mr. Smith and Mr. Jones looked at each other. Mr. Yard filled the silence by speaking up:

"Er... well, Miss Abby, you're certainly a... special lady! I can see why your sex appeal has already become fodder of local legend. Well, now... let's get started, shall we?"

The ladies departed to the locker room with a happy bounce to their step. Several minutes ticked by; the three members to the P.H. Society stayed silent.

Timmy and me went to sit down on the couch.

"Um, gentlemen," said Mr. Yard. "Wouldn't you prefer to wait elsewhere...? Outside, perhaps?"

"No, it's cool," said a familiar voice coming from the front door. "I know them. They're not like those bitches."

We turned around - and standing there was Rachel Trovolli!

END OF PART FIVE