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Rated: 18+ · Interactive · Adult · #1982124

Customers lose more than just money after visiting a shady antique store.

This choice: raced for the privacy of the changing rooms.  •  Go Back...
Chapter #7

raced for the privacy of the changing rooms.

    by: Mr. George Author IconMail Icon
Vanessa raced for the changing rooms. Only a shredded sense of what can be considered modesty fought against the relentless, merciless itching. Swishing the curtain aside and back, you only check the tiny space is empty, once you're in.

Thankfully, she was alone. As she strip off her panties, and bra. Standing their completely naked, quaking from the top of her head to the tip of herr toes. Eyes darting about still hunting for signs of some itching powder or any other cause of this unbearable torture.

Vanessa bent over ruffling her fingers through her hair. In case, that was the source of the itching.

As her skin fades back to it's normal hue, she couldn't help but take in her naked reflection. With nothing hidden, she felt every insecurity exposed, every imperfection revealed.

The assistant arrived, giving the curtain a shake to show her presence.

"Everything okay... ma'am?" she asked.

Unsure how to answer, and not wanting to risk her opening the curtain, she answered.

"I'm... just..." excuses failed, and she fall silent. Assured that at least she knows this is your changing room, and not to open the curtain.

The curtain doesn't reach down too far, and Vanessa was sure she could see the frilly nothings on the shop floor.

There was an awkward hitch in the assistant's voice. "I've brought your clothes."

Her hand snaking around the edge of the curtain to hold it in place, she slipped it just wide enough to pass through the rest of Vanessa's outfit.

Knowing she couldn't stay here, Vanessa accepted the clothes, with a timid "Thank you."

Still eyeing them suspiciously, she didn't want to risk the return of that horrific itching.

The blouse was in tatters, with the sleeves only held on by a few stray threads at the shoulders. It felt like the easiest thing to experiment with. The quickest to remove if that was necessary. There weren't any buttons left on the cuffs of the sleeves, as she slipped her arms in.

Shrugging it onto her shoulders, it was there only a moment before her back erupted in pain. An army of ants marching up and down her spine. Fingers curling into claws she pulled it back off. Sending it to the floor to join her underwear.

Mind whirling Vanessa hunted for a way out... out of the changing room... out of the shop... this degrading situation...
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