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Claire's Low Life	By : salarta Category: +M through R > Resident Evil Views: 7131 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil or any Capcom properties, its characters or any ideas or concepts contained herein. This story is a mere fan-made work, and I make no money or profit from its creation and dissemination.

Chapter List
- 1-Claire's Low Life
- 1
Author's Note: I had plans to do more with this; show Claire hitting on guys, Moira embarrassing her in public, get Sherry and Ada involved, include Claire giving an embarrassing public presentation, etc. I'm basically done writing any of these fics anymore except for maybe a few short things here and there, so this is it. I didn't really do much editing either, so you may find errors and conflicting paragraphs.

Claire looked down and scowled. Her new 'uniform', if she could call it that, sucked. She hated it. She hated everything about it. She hated how it made her bulge out in all the wrong places like a tightly packed piece of meat.
But then, she didn't have a choice, did she?
Her super tight booty shorts clung to her butt like cling wrap. Her boobs strained her tiny top, threatening to pop off every blue button on her front placket. Soft, pale cleavage poked out through the gaps, almost as much of a draw to the eyes as that damned silver navel ring on her bare belly and gold locket shimmering around her neck. The academy patch above her left breast sealed the look. As soon as she heard the doorknob squeak, she spun on her heels and spastically waved with a huge grin plastered all across her face.
"Heya Moira!" Claire cheered... before dropping her arm and settling back into her old simmering rage. "Uuuuuugh."
"How's my little girl doing?" Moira teased.
"Your 'little girl' is pissed."
Claire stamped her foot, slapped her palms to her sides and capped off each disgusted word with a cock of her hips. She wanted to look tough. She wanted to look fierce. She wanted her former protégé to remember the woman she was and back down from this humiliating farce.
She failed. Utterly. Completely. Every time she moved, her tits bounced. Her thighs quaked. Her shorts groaned in protest, stretching to bear the burden of her big fat ass with as much loud, annoying petulance as the words tumbling from her mouth. Her body whined as much as she did, leaving Claire Redfield with nothing but a bratty pout to show for herself.
Moira hid her dirty smile behind her hand, gazing at Claire with pure glee. "That's some attitude you've got, Clairry. I'd be upset if you weren't so cute."
Claire heaved a disgusted sigh. "No, it's not 'cute'. I'm a grown ass woman, Moira."
"But look at the freckles!" Moira strode up to her, tracing lines along a path to Claire's nose. She gave the tip a playful tap, before brushing aside strands of Claire's auburn hair. "You're the cutest spoiled little girl I've ever seen! There's just one little piece missing."
Claire glowered as Moira finally added the last part of her ensemble. The final bit of humiliation she needed to drive that wedge in deep.
The fucking hairband.
It slipped on with ease, holding back her bangs in its crimson arch. That one touch completed the newer, 'better' Claire, the one she stared at in the bathroom mirror with utter contempt. Her scowl softened against her will. Her rage-crinkled brow spread and lifted, first with calm, then delight. Her slumped shoulders perked up. Her breasts rose and fell high, jutted out for grand display.
Claire Redfield, the sexed up schoolgirl wannabe, was born.
"See? Isn't that better?" Moira asked.
"Totes!" Claire chirped.
'... Fuck,' Claire thought.
Standing there in her bastardized sailor fuku, Claire had no choice but to let Moira slip an arm across her shoulder. It unnerved her. The young Burton should not have been so bold, so cruel, so tall. She didn't know if she shrank or Moira grew, but somehow, some way, the girl now lorded a good six inches over her. Enough to make her feel smaller. Weaker. With every passing second, the authority of her age faded in favor of Moira's rights to her-
'No. I have to fight this. I have to-'
"Say Claire. You never did tell me how many guys you've banged."
"Oh, lots!" Claire happily exclaimed. "There's Chris, and Leon, and Steve, and Wesker, and Frederic, and this totes hawt-"
"Geez Claire, just give me a number, not your whole life story."
"Oh! Like..." starts counting on her fingers "... all the guys?"
The click of her Mary Jane shoes against tile announced their ugly presence on her aching feet. Every time she spoke, her uniform spoke louder, reminding her of Moira's role for her as a woman in her thirties trying way too hard to recapture her youth.
"That's my girl!" Moira cheered. "Of course, that was before. Find any new hot guys you like that I can fuck?"
Claire refused to answer. This twisted perversion of the bright rebel she once knew didn't deserve it. Trapped at Moira's mercy, she stood there silent and powerless as the girl whipped out her cell phone. Click, click, shutter click, the camera's sound effect chimed with each new humiliating pic. It went from every angle. Portrait, landscape, zoomed in, zoomed out, the fisheye lens captured every facet of the Claire Redfield shame show. Right as she started to zone out, Claire felt a hand dig into her placket and roughly squeeze her boob.
"Hey!" Claire shouted.
"Hey nothing. Your ass is mine, remember? Smile."
"But... I don't want-"
"Smiiiiile, or I'll twist your nipples."
Claire reluctantly stretched her lips into a wide, trembling grin. "This isn't right, Moira. You know it isn't. You have to let me go."
"Why would I do that when you're right where you belong?"
"This isn't where I belong. This is where those Neo-Umbrella assholes want me. You heard them yourself, they want to humiliate me, and they're using you to do it. You have to fight it, Moira."
Her pleas fell on deaf ears. They had no authority, no power. By the second, her protests shriveled from forceful demands in a booming voice to a weak, whimpering cloud of nagging nonsense. Through a constant stream of dismissive 'mm-hmm's, 'uh-huh's and 'yeah, sure's from Moira, she watched the girl upload each photo to her Facepalm account. They came with such poignant descriptions as 'MY GIRL!', 'I have THIS!', 'These tits are dangerous!' and the far too common and embarrassing 'You should see where I stuck her ego'.
Embarrassing, because of how well she could feel the remains of her ponytail wrapped around the giant Neo-Umbrella vibrator buried inside her.
"Did you hear a word I said?" Claire asked.
"Yep. Your ass is fat, your tits are itchy tasty, and you can't wait to show the world what a bimbo you are."
"That's not even remotely close to what I-"
"Too late!"
With a snap of Moira's fingers, it happened. Her wrinkled brow cleared, heart pounded faster, and rigid posture loosened up as the trigger took effect. Her forced smile shifted into a smutty vapid grin the moment Moira opened the bathroom door.
"Get on out there, little girl."
"'Kay!" Claire sing-songed. Her hips swayed as she sauntered out, into the brightly judging fluorescent lights of the convention floor. Booths lined the row with all manner of services: Frisson Chemicals, Parasol, Lonsdale Corporation to name a few. Not to mention the EPA, BSAA and a familiar blonde woman reporting for NTS toward the end.
"C'mon Claire, take control," she thought, as passing people began to stare. "You can fight it. Calm your mind, will yourself back in command."
Her butt jiggled as her cell phone vibrated wildly. Patting her back pocket, she rubbed along her cheek for the spot and quickly realized how impossibly tight her shorts were. They refused to budge. Squirming her fingers deeper and deeper felt downright Sisphyean, especially with that damned "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" ringtone blasting out the phone's speakers. By the time she managed to grab hold and slowly wriggle it free, nearly everyone within earshot had their eyes dead set on her.
Which was part of the plan. Answering the call, she slipped into a performance tailor-made for this very moment.
"Hihi, it's Clairy bear," she perkily said. Strutting down the aisle, her clothes stretched and buttons popped free as a couple dozen people watched her follow her script. "Oh. Em. Gee. You didn't. You didn't! He's like, so totally super duper dreamy and hawt. Totally wet."
Vengeful smirks, annoyed squints, and more than enough aroused grins followed her through the show floor. She mentally cursed at the chemicals coursing through her veins for making her notice cocks and tits stiffen up all around her. Not a single stirring within dress pants or blouses escaped her, a light girly blush creeping on her cheeks.
"Totally. Complete mobile masturbation," she helpfully play-acted to her imaginary caller.
Reaching into her breast pocket, she slipped a stick of gum in her mouth. Hips swaying, ass wagging, her flabby thighs quivered with each step she took in her knee-high socks and clicky Mary Janes. She hit that show floor with a sexy strut meant to turn heads, and turn they did. She could hear conversations ending, bags dropping, snickering and whispers as she gazed across table after table. Through all of it, she loudly chomped away at the thick wad in her gaping, hungry maw with bright eyes and wet, smacking lips.
Okay Claire, get a hold of yourself. You can do this. Once you snap out of it, you can pass it off as a publicity stunt. A really, really bad publicity stunt. You only have to get to the end of the-. Bright spots forced her to blink. She hadn't realized their cause until a moment later, when her vision cleared to reveal a few photographers snapping away with their cameras. Noooooooo!
Sleazing along, she gave the cameras a flirty wink and grin.
"Ms. Redfield! Who are you talking to?" One of the reporters bravely asked.
"IDK my BFF Jill?" She blabbered on.
"Do you mean Jill Valentine?"
"Yah, she's like, fuckin dogs all day or somethin' now cause my big bro thinks she's trash."
The worst part of those words was - Claire didn't know how true or false they really were. For all she knew, those Neo-Umbrella bastards had her locked up in some lab, forcing her to mate with anything and everything in the world under the guise of testing.
But she had her own problems, and judging by the look on Sherry Birkin's face as she came closer, they were about to get much worse.
- 1
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Claire's Low Life