Fredrica's ch5 pt6

The butterflies your stomach don’t have too much room to flop around in your corseted gut. The lights feel hot, due to the layers of your costume. You gulp. This is for Bonnie. If she’s somehow watching you, you have to do it for her.

The music pounds over the audio system, reciting the lyrics you had been trained to.

BUY IT USE IT BREAK IT FIX IT TRASH IT CHANGE IT MAIL UPGRADE IT

You pose in your elaborate, but cheesy robot costume, moving robotically to the beat of Daft Punk’s hit song. Your mind starts to overcome the fear of performing, and you get into it. Remembering the moves that Chica taught you. You spread your legs and thrust your pelvis as you slowly detach the fake robot pinchers on your hands, then move to the tubes over your arms. You try your best to toss them off stage, since you know no one is going to be there to pick them up after you.

You weren’t sure how the crowd was going to receive someone who wasn’t a robot, nor a female, but their reaction seems good. They’re laughing and hooting, especially a large and very drunk group of bachelorettes seated to the left of the stage. You decide to ham it up by them as you pry off the mid-section of your foam chassis. You bend over for them as you pull off the tubes on your legs and shake your robot bottom. They scream in delight. Heh, you can really see how someone could get used to enjoying this. You rip the blocky silver butt piece off and throw it to the girls, exposing your firm, metallic speedo’d ass.

TOUCH IT BRING IT PAY IT WATCH IT TURN IT LEAVE IT START FORMAT IT


You get the rest of the robot parts off, save for the mascot-like head, then start unclipping the corset. It falls to a glittery heap on the stage, and you kick it away. The audience laughs as you, in a bra, garterbelt, tight european underpants, stockings, boots, and a robot head, are left exposed.

TECHNOLOGIC TECHNOLOGIC

You slip your thumbs to the sides of your underwear and start to tease it down your hairy and muscled thighs. Underneath, was a g-string. Chica had worked wonders shoving your goods into that little thing. The toupee tape was gonna hurt when you had to rip it all off though. You hadn’t exactly shaved for the occasion after all.

You pull off your bra quickly cover your chest, then as the song winds down, you give em the big reveal, throwing your arms in the air and exposing your bolt-shaped pasties. Those were also going to be hell to pull off of your hairy chest.

The stage lights go out and the room erupts. Probably half of the noise was from those women alone. Now that the lights weren’t blazing in your eyes, you could make out more the of crowd as you picked up your things.

Renaldo’s group was gone.

Your nerves catch up with you, the fear for Bonnie, and the sudden rush of being nearly naked in front of strangers wadded up in your insides. You sprint to the bathroom off the dressing room and proceed to deposit your dinner in several unrefined retches.

You wipe at your mouth and groan.

“Good work.”

You quickly crane your head toward the door to the backstage. It’s a man you have never seen before. You panic for a moment, fearing it’s someone who’s going to whack you. But, he’s dressed casually. So it’s not one of the suits, thank god. You flush the toilet and he extends a hand, helping you wobble to your feet.

He is tall and lank, dressed in a nice, but informal Hawaiian shirt, shorts, and sandals. A thick pair of glasses sits on his long nose on his long face. You were going to guess who he was, but, as you realized you both weren’t alone, you didn’t need to. Mama looms beside him. She looks upset, but not toward you.

This hadn’t exactly been the circumstances you had wanted to meet him in.

“D-daddy…?”