Going Nova ch. 9: The Swimsuit Portion

Michael guided Brie by the shoulders into the backstage makeup room. She wondered why she was getting more makeup if she was to wear a swimsuit down the runway. After all, she had already had her makeup done on stage.

She also wondered if her pussy, still hot and drooling from her first to walks down the runway, would be apparent to the people in the room when she changed. It did cross her mind that if she soaked her way through the swimsuit, at least it was a piece of clothing that was supposed to get wet.

Michael pushed open the door to the room, and they were greeted by a team of three makeup artists. Two women and one man.

The man’s presence made Brie self-conscious, and she crossed her arms in front of her bare chest. One of the two women, with straight, bleached blonde hair, laughed aloud, “No need for modesty, honey, we’re going to be seeing a lot more of you by the time we’re done here.”

Brie was concerned about what she meant, but her self-consciousness had morphed into shyness, and so she remained quiet as Michael guided her toward a hard-seated reclining chair in the middle of the room, which faced a mirror. She sat down and, after removing her roller skates, leaned back against the cold backrest, shivering, and forming goose bumps.

The other woman, a frizzy redhead reached over and ran two warm hands down her arms. “Aw, you’re just the most precious little thing, aren’t you? You’re going to absolutely look like a baby doll in Scarlet’s newest swimming suit cut.”

The man in the room nodded, “That’s great, because that’s just the look they’re going for. That’s why they’re calling the bikini ‘doll patches’.” He reached over to the counter and pulled several clear cellophane envelopes out of a tiny box. Inside each one were small, round, flesh-toned swatches. He turned to Brie. “Alright, child, arms down.”

Sudden realization swept over the young girl and her eyes went wide. “Those little patches are the swimming suit?”

The man looked at her incredulously, “Yes, didn’t you discuss this with your agent?”

Brie wasn’t sure how to answer that question without blowing the fact that she and Elsie had lied to get the modeling gig, but Michael jumped in, “We had an accident with the original model. Briley offered to stand in for her.” He turned to the girl and spoke calmly. “Remember, you’re getting paid for this. We shook on it?”

Brie swallowed, starkly aware that she was in over her head. She desperately wished Elsie was there to bail her out. “But how am I supposed to even wear that?” she pleaded.

“That’s what the artists here are for. They’ll work their magic. You don’t have to do anything but sit right here. Don’t worry. After all, you’re not going to be naked when you walk down that stage. Nothing to worry about.”

Brie swung her head around, looking at each of the attendants and was met only by friendly, smiling faces. She looked once more at Michael who nodded encouragingly. With the coaxing of the older folks in the room, she took a big breath and slowly lowered her arms to her sides revealing her bare chest, and the protruding nipples that capped off her breasts, once more. She caught her reflection in the mirror and blushed deep red at her predicament. Her mind wandered again to Elsie, and wished she was in her friend’s place instead, and that she could simply wear the standard bikini cut that Elsie was given.

With Brie consenting, Michael took his leave to tend to other matters related to finishing up the fashion show.

“Alright, let’s get started,” the male makeup artist said. He spun her chair around so that she faced away from the mirror. He leaned over her and, one-by-one, held different swatches up to Brie’s chest until he found a shade that matched her skin tone. “Bingo.” He tossed the others back in the box.

After that, he tore open the cellophane, pulled out one of the tan discs and grabbed a paintbrush. He dipped the brush into a jar of paste nearby and spread it onto the swatch, then delicately pressed it onto Brie’s right nipple. She shivered at the contact. His push on her sensitive nipple was like pushing a button to start her engine. A pleasurable feeling coursed directly to her heart. Then he went back into the envelope and performed the same actions for her remaining nipple. Brie squirmed and pressed her thighs together, and hoped that that was the end.

The man spun her chair back around to face the mirror and the redhead piped up, “What do you think?”

Brie was agape. She wore nothing on top, and the minescule fabric discs that had been attached to her nipples very nearly camouflaged them completely. “I look naked,” she stammered.

The blonde woman laughed and said, “Honey, just you wait.” At that, the man left the girl in the woman’s care. She spun Brie’s chair away from the mirror once more, and grabbed a make-up palette off of the counter. “Alright,” she said, “we’ve matched your skin as best we can with the swatches that we have, but for this run, we’re going for absolutely perfect blending.” As an aside, she added, “Most of the girls who’ll buy these doll patches to wear to the pool or the beach are just going to stick them on and leave it as is. They’re not going to be putting makeup on their tits. But being as this is a professional event, Scarlet is putting their best foot forward. We’re going to use a bit of makeup magic so that these swatches blend in perfectly and completely with your true flesh tones. You really will look like a naked baby doll out there, without actually being naked.”

Brie swallowed and nodded, sure that she had no say in the matter at all. The woman flipped the makeup palette open and started smearing the pancake makeup over her subject’s chest with a sponge brush. Brie took a deep breath and closed her eyes. In her already elevated state of sensitivity, she was suddenly shocked back into her self-centered, super-orgasmic world. She had planned that by this point she’d have finished off her medicine and gone off to find somewhere to masturbate, but instead it had been one thing after another, and she still had not brought herself peace with a necessary orgasm. Now her breasts felt hot at every touch. Every stroke of the sponge, from her nipples outward, speared deep into her heart and dumped adrenaline into her veins. Her breathing became more shallow, but she tried to put on a brave face and not give too much away to her attendants.

She felt her nipples harden considerably, but when she glanced down they were invisible beneath the pasties glued on top of them. The blonde makeup artist was doing her best to ensure that it looked as if she had been born without them.

After applying the base toning layer, the woman took out a tiny blending brush and began to stroke Brie’s skin, subtly smoothing over any final differences between shades of makeup and the girl’s own natural skin color. The tiny brush tickled her, and she squirmed in the chair, sliding across its surface, which was moistened by her oozing girl-cum. She pressed her thighs together, squeezing out even more of her silky lubrication, which soaked into her drenched romper all the more.

The woman paused and held Brie’s chin, “Honey, you gotta sit still and stop fidgeting. Are you ticklish?”

Brie shook her head, eyes remaining closed, and said, “No. That just feels fucking good on my boobs. Gonna make me cum.”

The woman was taken aback, but quickly laughed it off, saying, “I’m sure the boys must love you. Okay, I’ll try not to rub too much, but there’s not much I can do right now; we have to get this blended in.”

Brie pressed a hand against her heated cleft. Her romper felt swampy with her juices. She rubbed herself slowly, surreptitiously, through the cloth and shivered. Her muscles tensed in her legs as pleasure coursed down through them, curling her toes.

The small brush swirled over her nerves, as the woman worked her way outward from each of her nipples. This served to tease Brie, for if her nipples had not been covered, and if the woman had been going the opposite direction—toward her more sensitive areas instead of away—it would have driven her mad right then and there.

After the small brush had worked its magic, the blonde had only to powder the makeup to ensure it set. She grabbed a puff and, with two final dabs, bopped Brie on each of the rises of her small breasts, eliciting a moan.

“Good grief,” said the redheaded woman, first to notice Brie thumbing her crotch through her clothes, “Is she jilling herself?”

The blonde sat back and tisked, “Hey, c’mon now, let’s be professional here.” Brie could barely hear them. Her head pounded like a drum, driving her bawdily onward. The woman stood up and said to the redhead, “At any rate, I’m done here. She’s your problem now.”

“Oookay,” the ginger sighed, rolling her eyes. “Let’s see what we can do here. Alright child, up, up. Get up.” Brie didn’t pay attention, she continued to absentmindedly mash the romper up into slit. The woman slapped her face lightly, but the girl just lolled her head back and forth, oblivious. The woman looked at the others in the room, “What’s with this girl?”

The blonde replied, “I don’t know, she was lucid a few minutes ago.”

The man spoke up, “Sometimes they come in here pretty strung out, but they always get the job done. It’s not our problem. Let’s just finish her up.”

“Sad,” the redhead said. “Well, can one of you pick her up so we can get this thing off?”

The man wandered around behind Brie and hoisted her up by the arms, trying not to smear her chest makeup in the process. Once her butt was off the seat, the woman grabbed the waist of the romper and shucked it down to Brie’s knees in one swift motion, exposing her bottom and vagina to the room.

Brie’s eyes snapped open and she gasped, jolted back to reality, as the raw air of the makeup room rushed over her moist, naked body. Her head wheeled around, taking in the details, trying to decode the situation, but she was barely coherent.

The man dropped her bare butt down onto the cold, wet chair seat and again her brain fought for more lucidity. He produced again, the small box of swatches, but instead of pulling out round circles, he instead pulled out single strips, about the size of a Band-Aid. He kneeled down next to her and leaned in toward her mound. Brie became deep red as she felt the man’s proximity to her most private area. But she did not protest. Somewhere deep inside of her, she was enjoying the attention. One by one, the man held each swatch up to her vulva until he found the closest match. “Looks like we’re going redder down here.” Then, just as he had done with the nipple pasties, he smeared an adhesive onto the swatch and pressed it against Brie’s slit.

The swatch was barely wide enough to cover the distance between the peaks of her labia. Real flesh from her puffy pussy lips was exposed on either side, and the strip was only long enough to cover the gash of her vulva; it didn’t even reach back to her butt. Brie couldn’t believe the swimming suit was legal, but somewhere in her delirious mind, she supposed that it covered up anything that needed covering; just nothing more. It was the next generation of the tiny thong bikini.

The swatch, of course, didn’t stay in place for long, and slipped onto the floor. Brie had produced far too much liquid for the adhesive to stick. The man scoffed in annoyance, cleaned the fabric, and dried it against his pants. “It won’t go on if the surface is wet,” he explained, “but once we do get it on, nothing but the solvent will wash it off.” He looked to the blonde. “Hand me that face towel.” He took it and buffed Brie’s overflowing chalice dry. She groaned aloud as he dragged the soft towel up between her pussy lips and over her swollen, hot clitoris.

The feeling of having someone else getting up into her breach rocked her world, and she shuddered and bucked against his ministrations, moaning pornographically. The man grabbed her around one thigh to stabilize himself and tried again to apply the bandage to Brie’s crevice. This time he was successful in getting it to stick, but Brie had other plans. Delirious with the need for orgasm, Brie slapped his hand away and peeled the top of the fabric strip back. He recoiled onto the balls of his feet and watched her snake a finger underneath and begin to luridly swirl it around her clit in earnest.

Before the man could do anything, she was already smearing her newly generated cum over her rubescent sex. He reeled in frustration. “Lord, grant me patience! Can I get some help here?”

The blonde came over, flabbergasted, “What do you want me to do?”

“Grab her arms and make sure she can’t touch her cunt!”

The woman pulled the young girl’s arms around and held them back.

Brie thrashed and fought against the restraint, whining all the way. “Fuck me,” she begged, “Cum, cum. I need cummies. Please, give me your cock.”

The man looked up at her incredulously and said with snark, “Honey, you’re not even my type.” Once again, he cleaned the swatch and dried off the little girl’s slit, causing her whole body to stiffen in the chair and thrust out to meet him at his touch. He remained all business and, this time, he got the adhesive to stick. No matter which way Brie twisted, she could not escape her restraints; without her hands free, she could not get the swatch to budge, and she could not achieve the orgasm she craved. The man, satisfied, looked at the redhead and said, “My job is done. She’s all yours now.”

The woman looked at him wryly, “Not yet.