Chapter 3: Tammie's Slide Into Depravity

Humiliated beyond her wildest dreams, Tamara Jenkins trudged the few blocks home from the doctor's office with her head down and tears streaming down her normally beautiful cheeks. This day was anything but normal, however. For the past eighteen years she had lived a utopian existence where public nudity and premarital sex were things that only happened to bad people with no moral strength. If she had done something so wrong, she could not think what it was, but in the past two hours at least a dozen strangers had seen Tamara's bare breasts, most of those having also seen her most private womanly parts.

She had been frightened as hell in that doctor's office. She knew that under other circumstances, that guy who barged in on her examination and that woman who made the obscene gesture at her while Tamara sat with her legs spread over the examining table, would probably have done something horrendous to her. She shut her eyes tight trying to block out the image.

"Good thing I wasn't wearing much make-up today," she thought, picturing how grotesque she would look with mascara and blush mixing and running down her cheeks.

She was at the end of her block when a thought came to her; a thought so bizarre and yet so understandable. Clearly this was not her day and time was against her. This much she knew by the simple fact that every time she'd gotten undressed for a nurse or doctor today, she had been caught that way by a handful of others. So she was destined to be humiliated all day and it wasn't like it could really get much worse, could it? The painful edge of humiliation could be so easily dulled if -- if she took control of the inevitable! If she was to be so publicly humiliated, would it not be easier to take if she were in control of who saw her naked and when? Avoiding cruel fate by beating it to the punch. It was brilliant!

Naturally she was still frightened and extremely embarrassed by the very thought of acting so lewdly, but if it was going to happen with or without her consent, it was so much better if she did it herself rather than having it done to her.

As the school day was not over, her parents were not expecting her home. She found the house empty and knew it would be at least three hours before either of them got home from work. Tamara rushed upstairs to her room, where she changed clothes. Her dark blue button-down shirt and black pants were tossed carelessly into the laundry hamper in her bathroom, along with her white bra and panties. She stood before the mirror for a moment just staring at her full frontal nudity. She could kind of understand why so many people, especially young men, found her attractive. She'd always thought her face was her best feature, slim and very white, unblemished by pimples, with two large green eyes set evenly to either side of her small nose. Her fiery red hair certainly made her stand out in a crowd. But she knew that the guys were usually drawn to her large chest, slim waist, and narrow hips. Back at the doctor's, she'd seen the look of hunger in the eyes of both that young man and young woman when their gaze fell on her full red bush. She'd always hated it, but it seemed to get quite a reaction from others. Was that a bad thing? She couldn't quite decide.

Washing her face, Tamara made up her mind to go back out wearing only an old white t-shirt which she'd pretty much outgrown in the past two years of development and her shortest skirt. Compared to what she'd been showing off today, the skirt might as well have been eighty feet long and fully covering her skin, but coming to just below her knees, it was considered almost racy in her household. As for shoes, she opted to wear a pair of sandals she'd bought for this coming summer. After brushing her hair, she dressed and went downstairs to the kitchen. She'd missed lunch and her stomach was starting to revolt. She appeased it with a quick sandwich and glass of orange juice, then grabbed her keys and her purse and headed out the door to her '95 Escort, which her parents had bought for her new when she got her driver's permit.

She sat for a moment in her car wondering if she was really going to go through with her dirty little plan. Once again her fear of being doomed to humiliation at the hands of others washed over her and she resolved to take control of the situation and beat fate to the punch. She started the car toward a large downtown clothing store.

Once there, Tamara made her way to the hosiery. If she was going to do this, she would do it right. She milled through a varied selection of fishnet stockings, nylons, and silk stockings, finally opting for standard fare black sheer pantyhose. She moved on to the clearance rack for summer clothes (since summer was almost upon them, the winter clothes would be dominating the racks within a week or two) and found the skimpiest two-piece bathing suit. She moved on to find a halter top. She'd always been told not to ever wear one because she'd look like a perfect tramp, and well that was just the look she was going for today. The selection was small, but she found a black one with a rather humorous take-off on the those silly milk commercials. In bold white letters across the front of this little half-shirt was printed "Got cookies?" She didn't think much of it, other than the parody value, but it was the best halter top they had in stock, so she took it.

Into the dressing room she went, smiling kindly at the middle-aged woman sorting return items by the door. The dressing room was actually fairly long, running from the doorway down a good twenty feet or so, with small slat-doored stalls all the way down a narrow corridor. At this end of the corridor was a full-length mirror hanging on the wall so you could walk up and down watching yourself to be sure you looked good both up close and from a distance. The first few stalls were being used, so Tamara stepped into the first free one she found, about halfway down the hall. On the door was nailed a fairly common sign saying that dressing rooms might be monitored at any time for shoplifters. She looked up to the ceiling and found the video camera about five feet away from her stall.

She sat her new items on the small bench and stripped out of her clothes, including her sandals. She opened the package of pantyhose, knowing you weren't supposed to try on such things, and slid them up her slender white legs, loving the feel as her small hands slid up her smooth skin followed closely by the tight nylons. When she was fully encased in the hosiery up to her waist, and wearing nothing more, Tamara stepped out of the stall and strode proudly (despite the remaining butterflies in her stomach) toward the mirror at the top end of the room. She watched her big 36C tits jiggle and bounce as she walked, oddly finding that she was growing aroused by the sight and the whole situation.

She came to stand right in the open doorway between the dressing room and the rest of the store, wearing nothing but a pair of black pantyhose, and turned slowly while watching her reflection in the mirror. She was magnificent, if slutty, and a smile broke across her thin pink lips. To her amusement, she heard several gasps and whispered exclamations from other shoppers as they glanced across the racks of clothes to see her slutty display. She bit into her lower lip in sudden embarrassment, but reminded herself that this time she was in control. This time she would make things happen her way. She slid her hands up her flat belly and up over her curvaceous breasts, never taking her eyes off her reflection.

"Alright, that's enough of that," she said to herself. Turning on her heel, Tamara walked quickly back to her stall. Quiet voices in the stall next to hers got her wondering how many people, and who they were, were in there. She would find out shortly, she decided, as she slipped out of her pantyhose and began putting on the skimpy bikini. The neon pink panties slid up her legs to cover her pussy, which was growing quite wet. She was surprised at herself and dipped a finger into her slit to be sure she wasn't hallucinating. Sure enough, her finger came out glistening with her juice. She licked it clean, grimacing a bit at the odd new taste. She didn't think she could grow to like it very much, and went about fitting the slightly-too-tight neon pink top over her heavy breasts, tying off the strings behind her back. She once again stepped out into the corridor and walked down toward the mirror at the end. She didn't like this look as much as the other, but a small crowd of people, mostly guys but some women, huddled around outside the doorway and cheered as she came into their view. They were being held off by the middle-aged clerk who oversaw the department, reminding the men that it was a federal offense to enter a women's dressing room and that what they thought they'd seen was only in their minds. This argument, of course, failed when the small group saw Tamara's stunning figure step into the doorway, do a quick turn before the mirror, and walk off again. A mass sound of dejection followed her down the corridor to her stall, where she quickly stripped off the bikini and pulled the tight "Got cookies?" halter top over her tits. It proved to be quite a struggle as her breasts stretched the fabric, but she managed to cover her nipples at any rate.

She felt it was now time to check in on the stall next to hers. The soft voices coming over the thin wall between them was piquing her interest. With no bottoms on, and with her big eighteen year old tits stretching the fabric of her halter top, Tamara pushed open the door to the next stall and said "Excuse me, how do these look?" as she pulled the shirt up and let her tits bounce free. Her jaw dropped as she became aware of a young woman and her six or seven year old son(!) in the stall. The mother seemed to be helping the young boy try on a pair of slacks and a dress shirt. The boy, sitting on the little bench and looking straight into Tammie's exposed red pussy hair, looked upward to the girl's heaving, heavy hanging breasts with wide eyes. His mother wore a look of absolute terror as she shot her hand up to cover the boy's eyes. Tammie took a step back into the corridor, trying to pull her top down over her tits, but as she was fumbling madly, the task proved too difficult for her. She bolted back into her own stall and slammed the door shut, leaning against it for support. Her breath came in ragged gasps and her heart pounded in her ears, clouding most other sounds around her. She slumped down to the floor and sat, mortified, for several minutes.

"Well gee, my humiliation is pretty much complete," she said to herself. "But at least it was my own. That amounts to something, doesn't it?" She glanced up to the security camera, swiveling around toward her on its constant back-and-forth search for shoplifters. A very nasty idea filled Tamara's already oversexed and humiliated mind. Clearing her items off the small bench at the back of the stall, she sat with one leg up on the hard seat and the other stretched out to the side. With her tits still hanging free from the skimpy halter top, she placed her left hand on her right breast and began caressing and squeezing it, quickly bringing the nipple to full attention. Her right hand slid down between her thighs. She had masturbated in private a few times in her younger years so knew what to do to get herself off. She rubbed up and down the little creases between her crotch and thighs, moving slowly inward across her pussy lips until she could slide her middle finger into her dripping slit. She slid it up and down a few times to coat it with her juices and then began a rhythmic pumping in and out of her womanhood, teasing her clit with her thumb at the same time. With all the excitement and her already aroused state, her ministrations both between her legs and around her right nipple got her hips bucking and within a minute she climaxed, coating her fingers with even more juice. She noticed the camera was still on her, and she took her fingers into her mouth and licked them dry, then gave a somewhat distasteful smile for the camera. She slipped back into her skirt and white t-shirt, slipped on her sandals, and gathered her slutty goods. She would buy them all.