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Split Decision

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by KG5000
The Televised Debut of Amanda Hamilton
+2
Last in pool
Ready Camera 3
Split Decision
“No… no… fuck no… no…”

An open wardrobe and a large pile of discarded clothes greeted Roxanne as she entered the bedroom she shared with her sister.

The top half of Amanda Hamilton was buried in the wardrobe in the far corner next to her bed, and her big, fat, brown arse and bushy tail were jutting out into the room.

“Something the matter, Mandy?” Roxanne asked innocently, leaning against the wall. In response, Amanda simply threw an item of clothing in her direction without even looking, which Roxanne caught and examined.

It was the brown vixen’s favourite pair of gym leggings – jet black all over, with a white stripe down the outside of each leg. They were what she wore every single time she hit their father’s gym to become even more absurdly strong than she already was… mostly because the combination of nylon and lycra was one of the few materials that could hold in the girth of Amanda’s wrecking-ball buttocks.

Holding the smooth leggings up, Roxanne inserted a hand into the waistband and began to run it under the surface of the material. She had a suspicion as to what had transpired here…

…which was proven right about ten seconds later, when she found three of her fingers poking through a rather sizeable tear in the backside of the fabric.

Instantly, Roxanne’s face split into a devilish grin.

“Oh dear,” she crowed, wiggling her fingers through the split seam. “Has your fat arse gotten even bigger, or were you trying to do the splits again?”

“Fuck off,” Amanda grunted in reply, top half still in the wardrobe. Of course, had Amanda not had as much pride as she did, she’d have admitted that, yes, she had indeed ruined her favourite leggings trying to do the splits.

 “Fuck! There’s nothing in there for me to wear!” Amanda’s sudden outburst was only dwarfed by the loud banging of wood on wood as she threw the wardrobe doors shut. “Just auld shite that’s too small tae fit!”

“Or torn,” Roxanne pointed out, stooping to pick up a pair of pants in the pile of discarded clothing. “Look, I can see my hand through these!”

“I’m no’ hearing much sympathy from yersel’, Smug-Tits!” Amanda groused.

Welllll,” her orange sister replied. “There is another thing you could wear…”

In response, Amanda raised an eyebrow.

“You could wear the Christmas present I got for you last year!”

Roxanne was pleased to see that her normally-loud sister had been struck completely dumb by this revelation, and she could practically see the cogs turning in Amanda’s head as the memory of what she was talking about hit her:

Abso-fucking-lutely not!

--------------------------

So, it had come to this…

Amanda Hamilton stomped down the street, every heavy footfall seemingly designed to put cracks into the pavement.

It was probably the fastest she had ever walked anywhere – she would have run to minimise the time she had to spend in public, but… the clapping

Amanda had not been amused upon receiving these ‘shorts’ from Roxanne for Christmas, and she had immediately flung them into the deepest, darkest corners of both her wardrobe and her memory, hoping never to see them for at least several years.

But today, she had to wear them, and she hated it.

Roxanne claimed that the shorts were the biggest size that she could find, but the way that they were bisecting the brown vixen’s bootycheeks gave Amanda reason to doubt this.

Of course, the shorts had to be bright yellow – might as well have been made from hi-visibility jackets! Furthermore, imprinted upon the yellow was a hexagonal grid, which unintentionally served as a sort of videogame texture grid, highlighting the incredibly deep crack into which the material had been pulled.

But those paled in comparison to what Amanda felt was the biggest injustice:

‘CAKED UP’

Caked Up was the name of a British bakery chain, specifically the one that Roxanne liked to get her chocolate eclairs from. The letters were big and thick, emblazoned proudly across the width of the rear of the shorts in a bold font – even worse, the letters themselves were filled with things like orangey sponge, squidgy strawberry icing and gooey chocolate sauce!

All of these elements utterly dragged the eyes of everyone she strode past onto her backside. But she powered on down the street, determined and focused on her destination: the Thistle & Clover clothing store on the high street.  

"Hey baby, did it hurt when you fell fro-"
"Fuck off."

"What you doing tonight?"
"Not you."

“Mummy, look at her! She looks like the girls from daddy's videos!"
“Zeus wept.”

Gods, what bullshit she had to deal with…. Thankfully it was relatively quiet in the town today as she thundered through the streets, not even looking out for cars as she crossed the roads.

Finally, Amanda found the local branch of Thistle and Clover in the middle of the high street, but something gave her pause and she stopped suddenly. This caused her arsecheeks to jiggle merrily, and a couple of people who had been walking behind her had to quickly dodge around her to avoid walking straight into her arse.

There was a branch of Caked Up! Directly opposite the Thistle and Clover.

Amanda shot the place a glare that should have set the place on fire, hating everything about the place – from its big open window display to the fact that the sign above said display was currently halfway up her arse!

But she gave it more of her attention, turning on her heel away from the blasted boulangerie and towards her ultimate goal in the Thistle and Clover.

Her walking speed was much the same in the store as it had been outside it, and she took the shortest route she could in order to avoid the other pricks milling around the place and get to her beloved leggings.

Finding the rack where the tights in question were situated, she reached in to get at her size – naturally, it was right at the back – and promptly made her way to the tills, slamming two pairs of the leggings down onto the counter in front of the gormless-looking Afghan hound cashier.

“Do you, uh, need a bag for those?” she said from behind her long, lank hair-curtains.

“Nah, hen,” Amanda said brusquely. “I’ll be wearing them out.”

And without even moving from her spot in front of the till, Amanda Hamilton opened up a pair of her newly-purchased leggings and slipped them on before anyone who would be watching – so long as the bright yellow monstrosities adorning her arse were covered, she didn’t care if she was scandalising anyone.

Having watched the brown beast of a vixen finish hiking up the black leggings, the Afghan watched her stride out of the front door with the spare pair under one beefy arm.

“…fair enough.”

It was nearly closing time, and she did not get paid enough to deal with someone like that.

--------------------------

“So, how did it go?”

Roxanne didn’t even raise her eyes from her latest trashy romance novel as her sister stomped into their bedroom.

Before answering, Amanda sighed and flung the scandalously scanty yellow shorts she’d been wearing up onto the top of her wardrobe.

“I’m no’ wearing yon things again!” she declared, before sighing and flopping down onto her own bed. She wasn’t physically tired as such – it would take a lot more than a mere power walk down the street to tire her out – but more like emotionally tired.

“They're always there for when you burst this pair, too." Roxanne casually remarked, licking her finger and turning to the next page.

Amanda merely gave a grunt in reply – mentally, she was done for the day.
 
Bzzzt-bzzt-bzzt

The vibrating of a mobile phone sounded from Amanda’s bedside table.

“Fuck, what now?

Amanda picked up her phone, and, not recognising the number on the screen, clicked the answer button, closed her eyes and put it to the side of her head.

“Aye?”

“Hello, is this Amanda Hamilton?”

“It is, whozzis?”

“Hi Amanda, this is Sam Nicholls, the general manager for the Caked Up! Bakery!”

Amanda’s eyes flew open. “What.

“I noticed… I mean, members of my staff noticed you out and about today,” he continued, a touch of trepidation now in his voice. “I was pleased to see you out repping our brand, and I’d like to offer you a position of-“

“YOU FUCKING WHAT!”

Amanda sat straight up in bed, her eyes ablaze as she continued to shout down the phone at the hapless manager, completely unaware that her sister was struggling not to laugh from the other side of the room.

“Listen here, ya cheeky bastart – me wearing your daft wee shorts oot the day wis purely coincidental! If you think I wanted to wear those things, then the only job you can offer me is the job of pullin’ yer head oot your arse!”

And with that, she clicked off the call and threw her phone up onto her wardrobe, where it clunked to rest beside the still scrunched-up shorts.

Composing herself behind her book, Roxanne straightened her face.

“Have you considered borrowing some of my skirts?”

Amanda just glared at her, before turning over in her bed.

Keywords
female 998,918, fox 231,879, vixen 27,178, embarrassed 13,152, huge ass 9,571, huge butt 6,736, story in description 1,294, amanda hamilton 33
Details
Type: Picture/Pinup
Published: 1 year, 9 months ago
Rating: General

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