The Unscrupufic to End All Unscrupufic (or, at least, I certainly hope so ...) [Do I even want to claim this?? Oh, all right ...] By shannono shannono@iname.com [But if you actually enjoy this in the way the original story was intended -- I don't EVEN want to hear about it ...] Distribution: God, no, please!! Story, Erotica, Humor, Parody, Sickness, Weirdness, etc., etc. Drew/Mimi [yes, you read that right] Rated NC-17 Spoilers: Every meal you've eaten in the past week, and probably for the following week, too. DO NOT attempt to read this while eating ANYTHING!! Content warning: Sickness on the loose. God, why did I do this to myself, much less all of *you*? Disclaimer: Well ... the story's mine ... I guess ... though this was never the spirit in which it was intended ... Can I sue myself for plagiarism? Please? If not, can I kill the person who started the "unscrupufic" thread?? ========== Drew was comfortable, for a change. After several long, LONG weeks of overtime, squeezed into his tiny little cubicle space, he was home at last, settled into his soft sofa, lights out, television bathing the room in soft blue light. The Weather Channel was his choice this evening, a gnawing need for bland repartee driving his selection. He sighed and shifted to his back, pulling his pillow down beneath his head, then adjusting his slightly-too-tight t-shirt and boxers. His legs stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankles, his feet encased in mismatched brown socks. He balanced the remote on his stomach, reached for his bottle of Buzz, and sighed again in contentment, his eyes falling shut. And someone knocked on his door. His eyes inched open reluctantly, and he glanced at the clock across the room: 12:04. Why, *why* would someone be bothering him at midnight? Maybe they have the wrong place, he thought, and lowered his eyelids. The knock sounded again. Sighing resignedly this time, Drew slid his arms down and moved the remote from his stomach to the coffee table, then pushed himself to his feet and padded to the door. He stretched up just slightly to peer out the door -- and was surprised to see Mimi standing in the hall. Wincing, he released the locks and opened the door. "Mimi, what the hell are you doing here?" he asked immediately. She sneered and shrugged. "I have my reasons," she said. "You gonna let me in?" Perplexed, Drew shrugged one shoulder. "Uh, sure," he said, stepping aside to allow her to pass. She made no move to take off her coat, and Drew wasn't about to offer to help, so he just headed back for the sofa. "Yeah, you can sit back down," Mimi said. "You were on the sofa, right?" Drew's face twisted in puzzlement. "Well, yeah, but ..." "So just go back to what you were doing," Mimi said, waving one hand toward the couch. "Go on, have a seat. Relax." Drew started to speak again, but Mimi shot him her best "do it or die, Drew" look, and, without thinking, he complied, flopping back onto the cushions. As Drew leaned back, Mimi moved to the middle of the living room floor, then stepped over to flick on two lamps before picking up the remote and turning the TV off. Drew watched her with trepidation, sure that at any moment she was going to start reaming him about some stupid thing he didn't even know he'd done. But then she moved over to his CD player, pulling a jewel case from her pocket and then putting the CD in to play. Drew didn't recognize the instrumental music that began emitting from the speakers, setting a sort of throbbing, almost tribal rhythm. His eyes found Mimi's again as she turned back to face him. "So, Drew ..." Her voice trailed off, dragging his name out like taffy. And then she said: "Where should I start?" Drew was confused for a moment -- until something clicked and his memory caught up with him, and then he was stunned. Several days before, in between two boring meetings, he'd made some snide comment to Mimi about the likelihood of her performing a striptease or lap dance. Drew gulped. Apparently, she'd taken the challenge. When he couldn't force a word out, she shrugged. "So I guess I'll just wing it," she said, and starting moving her hips ever so slightly. She turned to one side, dropping her head forward, and looked up at him from under half-shut eyelids coated with bright blue eyeshadow as she started to slip her coat back off her body. She moved the coat slowly, still swinging her hips, then leaned forward and shimmied her shoulders a bit to loose them from the sleeves. Drew blinked once, slowly, half-expecting the vision to be gone when they reopened. This shit is not happening. Mimi is not really stripping in my living room, he reasoned with himself. But she was still there when his eyes refocused, now holding the coat on her fingertips, her hips and shoulders still moving. Her chest was thrust out, and Drew could see her nipples in stark relief against the white blouse she wore under her brightly-colored jacket. Holy shit, is she even *wearing* a bra?? his brain piped up, but his attention was diverted by the rolling motion of her stomach. He thought maybe he was getting seasick. The coat was gone now, drifting into a messy pile on the floor, and Mimi moved on to the jacket, turning to face him more fully. She lifted her hands, sliding her fingers between jacket and blouse, then grasped the cloth and yanked it down her arms, turning the jacket half inside-out in the process and pushing her chest out again. Drew gasped in revulsion at the move, then saw a swift smile flash on Mimi's face and realized he'd reacted just as she wanted. Not that it mattered; he was still so stunned from the whole scenario he couldn't even shake himself loose enough to be sick on the floor. Mimi leaned toward him, her eyes still twinkling wickedly, and shimmied her shoulders again to move the jacket's sleeves down her arms. Drew's eyes drifted from her face to her breasts, now less than two feet away from him and jiggling in time with the rolls of fat as her shoulders moved. From this angle, Drew could see the outline of her bra, but he could also see that it stopped just short of covering her nipples. The dark areolas stood out boldly against her pasty skin and the sheer white of her blouse and the bra. Mimi pulled back again as the jacket fell to her hands, then lifted one arm and released the item to fall atop her coat. Then she stepped in Drew's direction just once, drawing his attention briefly to her feet, at which point he realized the shoes she was wearing weren't her usual laceups. No, these were black, suede, and stiletto-heeled, which served to tilt her entire body forward -- toward him -- just slightly. Drew stifled a groan of revulsion at the realization, but he was still too stunned to move. His gaze was drawn back up Mimi's body as she hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her long, full, brilliant orange skirt. She shook her hips in a failed effort to slip the cloth smoothly down her legs, then gave up and just yanked it all the way down, revealing a sheer white half-slip that, unfortunately, left little to the imagination. Through the slip, Drew could clearly see the outline of a garter belt and stockings, as well as a dark shadow at the juncture of her legs. She apparently hadn't bothered with panties at all. Drew's body was starting to revole as Mimi's hands traveled to the top button of her blouse. He tried valiantly to force himself into action as she continued to move her hips and shoulders in a cruel parody of dance, the blue-tinged light from the lamps clashing with her makeup as she slowly opened the five buttons. But when she moved to take the shirt off, she pivoted away from him, glancing back over one shoulder. She repeated her actions with the coat and jacket, pulling the shirt back and thrusting her chest forward. However, this time her back was turned, and Drew couldn't see; //thank God for small favors,// he thought. The last thing he wanted was a good, long look at Mimi's breasts encased in the tiny wisp of a bra. Mimi's head was still turned back to look over her shoulder, and she dropped her gaze to the floor in an almost-shy gesture belied by the tiny smirk on her face. Her hands went to her waist then, and she bent forward as she began to slide the sheer nylon slip down her hips, her eyes coming back up to meet Drew's. Drew shifted on the sofa, his growing nausea becoming more and more uncomfortable, but he still couldn't force his eyes away as more and more of Mimi's skin was revealed to his gaze. The elastic waistband of the slip moved gradually across Mimi's bare ass, finally reaching the tops of her thighs, where she held it for a moment before finally allowing it to drop to the floor. She stayed bent over, though, and shifted her feet several inches apart, giving Drew a glimpse of the rosy folds between her legs. Drew groaned, his hand coming up instinctively to press into his aching stomach, and Mimi let out a low chuckle and stood straight up. She started to reach for the clasp at the back of her bra, and Drew knew he had to stop her. Somehow, some way, he HAD to keep from seeing her without a bra. Summoning up the power of speech, Drew managed a ragged "No!" Mimi paused, one eyebrow arching, then turned back to face him, bringing her hands up to cover her breasts as she did so. Drew gulped and opened his mouth to tell her to get the hell out, but she drew her hands off of her breasts and down her sides, finally letting them come to rest on her upper thighs. Drew's stomach roiled. Mimi stood in front of him wearing nothing but a shelf bra, garter belt, and stockings, all in see-through white, along with the black stilettos. He could feel his dinner and beer making a return trip up his esophagus. Finally, Mimi shifted her feet and began a slow walk toward him, hips swaying sensuously with each step. "I believe there was something else, Drew," she said silkily, using one foot to push the coffee table back from the sofa. Her legs spread wide in the process, just inches from his face, and Drew groaned as he realized what was coming next. Drew swallowed, hard, as Mimi moved to stand directly in front of him. She swiveled her hips, each twitch of her hips sending waves through the flab on her body. She leaned forward and shook her shoulders slightly, her breasts swinging like pendulums, and grinned wickedly as Drew jumped in response. She was so close now he could smell her, her legs spread wide, and he could feel the vomit in the back of his throat. But he was still unable to control his body enough to get the hell away from her. She grabbed his hands and planted them firmly on the edges of the sofa cushions, licked her lips slowly as she moved to unclasp her bra, and murmured, "Hang on." Her bra was off in second, flung over to land somewhere near the rest of her clothes, and she returned to her dance, writhing on his lap like a pig in a mud bath. His legs shook from the effort of supporting her weight, and he willed himself to MOVE ALREADY! Mimi never stopped moving, apparently determined to see her "lap dance" through to the end -- even if it killed him. She rubbed her crotch against his thigh and stomach, dragging her nipples across his chest, and huffing and puffing her breath into his face. She sat back on his knees, then paused for a minute, still breathing heavily. Obviously, she wasn't used to this much exercise. Finally, she shifted her hips again in preparation to resume her dance ... and Drew broke free of his paralysis. He shoved her off of him, scrambling across the room and pressing himself up against the wall, his eyes wide. "What the HELL was all THAT?" he yelled. Mimi looked up at him from her new position, half spread-eagled on the floor where she'd fallen, and grinned evilly. "That," she spat out, "was a preview." Drew cringed. "Of WHAT??" he demanded. "'This week on Fox: When Fanfic Goes Bad.'" ===END===