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From: "Peregrinf" <dfowler@catskill.net>
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Subject: {ASSM} Beth Naked in School 9/12 (f/m exhib voy) by Peregrinef
Date: Wed, 13 Mar 2002 22:10:13 -0500
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<15th attachment, "Beth Naked in School 9.doc" begin>

"Beth Naked in School" is a continuation of the "Naked in School"
series that began with Karen Wagner's "Karen Naked in School."
You might want to start there. Then follow up with my first
contributions to the series, "Carl Naked in School," and "Carl
Naked in School - Beth's Story," before you start this tale. All
can be found in the ASSM archives.

Beth Naked in School 9/12 (f/m exhib voy) by Peregrinef

Friday

"No retreat," was the phrase that came to mind as I faced the
door, ready to head off to school. I was carrying my book bag,
and in it were books, nothing else; no undies, no skirt, no
blouse. Nothing. I had nothing on but my loafers, my gold cross
and my glasses. 

It meant I was committed to my plan, though I suppose there are
some people who will say I should be just plain committed. 

Once I walked out the door I had nothing to cover myself with
until I got home again that afternoon. What's more, I'd vowed not
to dress again until - well, indefinitely, though I think in the
back of my mind I'd already decided that if everything went well
I'd let myself get dressed on Monday. 

Maybe. 

If only it was to be that simple! Had I known what was coming,
what would I have done?

Probably the same thing. I am not a quitter! Nor do I have any
regrets. 

Taking a deep breath, I opened the door and stepped out into the
bright morning sun, the cool air making my already stiff nipples
wake up even more. Since I was running a little late I wheeled my
bike out, a first since my time in The Program started! 

I tell you, riding a bicycle naked is a whole new experience! The
seat rubbed me in some very interesting ways. The air whistling
past my naked body was a wild sensation, too. 

I'd called Carl, so he had his bike, too, and he met up with me,
of course, and we rode together. He was surprised I was naked - I
hadn't told him about that - so I had to explain what I was
doing. He thought it was incredibly brave of me. 

He's such a sweetie! 

Anyway, we got to school and I got off, flashing my naked pussy
at everyone to starboard as I did, of course, `cause it's my
brother's old ten-speed, not a girl's bike that allows a more
modest dismount. After locking our bikes to the rack we walked in
to school just in time for the first bell. 

That, at least, saved me from another group grope. 

Oh, I'd have submitted to it, without help. Better that than
another spanking - a second offense would have resulted in a
doubled penalty! 

Chemistry went as usual. I was getting better at concentrating on
the lessons, rather than the way everyone looked at me. 

Or, maybe they weren't staring at me as much? I guess they were
used to seeing me naked now. It was a bit of a relief, of course,
but I was kind of surprised to find that I missed the attention,
too. 

Mademoiselle Duclos had exhausted my anatomical offerings, so I
wasn't subjected to any more "show and tell" in French class -
another let-down. 

But math class with Freschetti brought with it a nice touch of
normality, wouldn't you know. He accosted me outside the door
this time, though. 

"Hey, Finchy, I think I need some relief again today," he
announced snidely. 

I looked down at his diminutive dick, trying to figure out if it
was up or not. If I'd been nasty I would have said something like
"It's hard to tell," but I didn't. Maybe I should have. 

"How about you suck it out of me this time?" he asked with a
sneer. 

I really, really hate being called "Finchy," by the way. Without
even thinking, I went for his balls again, curling my fingers
around them and giving them a warning squeeze. 

"In your dreams, Freschy," I retorted. "What's the matter, can't
you even get Marilyn Beaverton to hoover you? If you want relief,
you'll have to settle for a  hand job from me, if you're willing
to risk it! I might just decide to twist it off instead." 

Marilyn, you'll recall, is the one who had sucked Carl off so
effectively on his second day in The Program. The joke around
school was that she was so orally fixated that if a terrorist
gave the order to blow up a school bus she'd die of carbon
monoxide poisoning. 

Freschetti flushed. 

With my other hand I squeezed his dick, finding it as limp as I
suspected it to be. He didn't need relief. It was all a power
trip with him. 

"Are you still taking steroids? Haven't you figured out they suck
the juice right out of you? To say nothing of giving you the
attitude of a grizzly with a toothache. Get a life, Freschetti."
Dropping his privates I pushed past him into the classroom,
shaking with a mixture of fury and fear. 

He slunk back to his seat, and left me alone, but I couldn't help
worrying that I'd made a real enemy this time, and he was not one
you wanted as an enemy. I was pretty safe, as long as he or some
of his buddies didn't catch me alone, but if they ever did -
well, I tried not to think about that! 

Lunch was lunch, of course, with my friends. Stephanie looked at
me longingly, and I flashed her a little kiss as I patted the
seat next to me. When she rested her hand on my thigh under the
table I didn't discourage her. I even kind of wished she'd been
naked like me - I might have nestled my hand in her pussy. 

Carl was on my other side, of course, and he sneaked his hand
down on to me, too. When he found Stephanie's hand already in
residence there he shot me a sly look, and they finger wrestled
for possession of me. 

"Share nicely, children," I told them softly as I tried to eat in
spite of the distraction they presented. 

The next thing I knew I had two fingers up inside me. They even
figured out a way they could both diddle my clit! Before I knew
it I was choking on my Jell-O salad! 

Karen was across the table from me, of course. She dropped her
napkin and when she emerged from beneath the table after "looking
for it" she gave me a wicked wink. My giggle sounded a bit like a
moan as my cunt went into orgasmic spasms. 

From lunch it was off to art class, where I was still posing, of
course. Henry was now working on me from the waist down. At first
it was just the curves of my ass, the swell of my hips, the curve
of my tummy, the creases where my thighs joined my hips, places
like that. Which, I might mention, was certainly stimulating
enough! 

He was still as shy and polite about it as ever, of course. But
Henry was getting steadily more and more intimate in his tactile
explorations (isn't that a delicate way of putting it?). He
started figuring out the geography of my pussy area. 

Oh my!

I mean, I was still stirred up from Carl and Steph's lunchtime
frolic in my playground and here was Henry, literally studying my
most intimate anatomy by Braille! 

Oh my!! 

"You're - not hairy," he commented. 

"I shaved it a few days ago," I admitted. 

"Oh! Are you sure you don't mind me touching you there?" 

"I don't mind." I couldn't bring myself to tell him that half the
male population of the school had already become intimately
acquainted with my genitalia. 

He felt my labia, traced the slit delicately. 

"The - uhm - underlying structure influences the contours," he
hinted. "I mean, like Michelangelo studied the bones and muscles
of cadavers." 

"Well, you don't need to wait until I'm dead," I assured him with
a nervous giggle. Thank goodness the teacher had some Mozart on
to provide "ambiance," as he put it, so our little exchanges
couldn't be overheard. 

"Are you sure?" He "looked" up at me anxiously, his blind eyes
hidden by his dark glasses. 

"I'm sure." Breaking my pose, I took his hand and steered it back
to my crotch, working his fingers into my slit. 

"It's hot, and wet," he mused softly. With both hands he parted
my labia. His fingers traced my ruffles and folds, touch my clit,
which sent a jolt through me, of course. 

"My vagina," I explained softly as his finger probed my cunt, my
legs going rubbery. 

"May I" the girl who had been doing the sketches of my pussy
asked, joining Henry, a small sketch pad and a pencil in hand. 

"Sure," I answered, deciding that "the more the merrier" would be
too explicit an invitation to everyone in the class. 

Finishing with my pussy, at least temporarily, Henry went back to
his clay sculpture of me and did things to the crotch of his clay
model of me that made me quiver as I watched, like it was a
voodoo doll and I was feeling his every touch. He used this
little loop of wire to shape my hairless slit. Wow!

Meanwhile, the girl sketched, her pad at my feet, using her
fingers to spread my labia so she could capture the "inner me," I
guess you could say. I could even feel her breath on my upper
thighs, even on my pussy as she studied it intently. It was a
disappointment when she finished and went back to her easel. I'd
even found myself hoping she'd like a taste, I was getting so
horny again. 

But then Henry came back, moving behind me. His fingers pried
into the crack of my ass, touched my anus gently and my knees
went weak again. He traced the little gap separating that opening
from my pussy, and I remembered how his guide dog's nose had felt
as she'd touched me there, and tried not to squirm. 

I was blushing furiously throughout all this, of course. I mean,
after all, the whole art class was watching, sketching me while
all this was going on! And to make it even worse, the teacher was
snapping pictures for the school Web site as an example of what
the art program had to offer even the visually impaired. 

Even with the usual two breaks I was sweating and trembling by
the time class was drawing to a close. 

"Thank you very much, Miss Finch," the teacher said a few minutes
before the bell rang. "You've been most cooperative, an excellent
model. Would you be willing to consider posing for some of the
other art classes in the future?" 

"Uh, well, I don't know," I admitted. "Let me think about it." 

"And if you'd like to earn a bit of money, I know of some private
classes and some artists who are always looking for willing
models," he went on. 

"Well, like I said," I answered warily, "let me think about it."

Just then the bell rang, liberating me from that particularly
awkward conversation. I mean, did I want to continue something
like this after I was done with The Program? 

That was not a question that I cared to explore very closely at
the moment, because just the thought of it made my innards
wriggle. 

And I also couldn't help thinking that I could use the income. 

The next period I had free in the library to study for the PSATs.
It gave me more time than I wanted to think about so many things.


My afternoon and night with Stephanie and Carl, for example. I'd
done things with them that I'd never thought I'd ever do with
anyone. And it had been good! I had no regrets. We hadn't
resolved Stephanie's sexuality issues, but explored her options
very thoroughly, you might say. 

In fact, I had few regrets about anything that had happened so
far this week. Even the spanking, while it had been painful, had
revealed another aspect of my sexuality. And the transgression
that had triggered it had exposed another facet. I had enjoyed
being restrained as all those boys felt me up! It was something I
knew I would explore in the future. 

The future. 

Well, the immediate future was two-and-a-half more days of nudity
in public - the rest of today, all day Saturday, including the
football game. Would I really go to church naked on Sunday? How
would I be accepted there if I did? Would God be offended? I
didn't see how He could be. After all, He'd made me in His image,
hadn't He? 

I'll let the theologians and philosophers debate that, thank you!
Anyway, if Pastor Bill vetoed it, well, I'd just have to skip
church, or dress for it, I guess. 

And then there was the slightly more distant future. What if The
Powers That Be did approve my idea for a community service
project. Would Carl and I actually have sex in front of a whole
classroom of middle schoolers? The thought gave me the shivers,
but I couldn't tell if it was terror or something more earthy. 

I was shaken out of my musings by the bell ending the period, and
realized I'd not done a bit of studying. Well, the PSATs would
have to wait until next week, I thought, as I gathered my stuff
and headed to history class. 

I was trying to keep awake during Mr. Whiterspoon's usual dry
lecture when the announcement that really capped my week was made
over the school PA system. 

"It is our pleasure to announce that this week's Miss School
Spirit is none other than Junior Elizabeth Finch! I'm sure you'll
all want to congratulate her on receiving this honor, and I'm
also sure that, with her in The Program, you will all come out
for tonight's pep rally and tomorrow's game against Eastern High!
Go Spartans!" 

I sat there, frozen, like a rabbit facing a cobra, as the whole
class turned and looked at me. Me? Miss School Spirit? 

You see, Miss School Sprit, or MSS for short, was a gimmick
dreamed up by the football team and endorsed by the student
council and the administration to boost school spirit. The victim
- uh - honoree - is chosen by the football team and has the
assignment of boosting school spirit and drawing attendance to
the game of the week. 

And  yes, it is incredibly sexist. There is no MISTER School
Sprit. What would you expect of something promulgated by a bunch
of testosterone overloaded apes who go around head-butting each
other with feral howls of "HOORAW"? 

The honor usually went to a cheerleader or one of those other
rah-rah types, usually one with a chest measurement exceeding her
IQ, if you get my drift; one who bounced around squealing and
giggling and whose greatest concern was her cup size and the
right shade of lipstick. 

Well, okay, I do giggle, but not ALL the time! And yes, I do
squeal, given the - ah - proper stimulus! But I do NOT bounce
around the halls squealing and giggling, dressed like - like -
well, like a Barbie Doll! I am a Serious Student, a future
Medical Doctor. A brain. A geek. 

I remember when I heard about the MSS program, my first thought
had been that it was like they were offering up a public
sacrifice to propitiate the gods of sport. Not that many of the
sacrifices were likely to be virgins! 

Now I was to be offered up on the altar of sport. 

Not, I admit, that I was a virgin any longer either, of course,
thanks to my sweetie, Carl. 

As I acknowledged the applause of the class I was desperately
reviewing the responsibilities of MSS, and cringing. 

I was to be a living pin-up, a reminder to the team of what they
were fighting for, like a poster of Betty Grable or something,
and a stimulus to the crowd. 

We were studying World War II in history, in case you want to
know where I got the Betty Grable image from. 

First off, tonight I had to attend the pep rally and light the
bonfire. Then tomorrow, of course, I had to go to the football
game, and lead at least one cheer - God, did I even know any
cheers? 

And then I had another thought that gave me cold chills. My vow
to remain naked through the weekend suddenly came back to haunt
me. 

Not, I realized with a  sinking feeling, that going back on my
own vow would do any good. MSS was a school activity, and I was
in The Program until school opened on Monday. That meant I had to
do it naked anyway, and everything else the MSS program demanded
of me! 

A stimulus to the crowd I would certainly be! 

I tried to set that thought aside, reviewing my duties as MSS. 

There was carrying the school flag as a member of the color
guard, then the opening huddle on the sidelines, where I'd be in
the center of the whole football team, building them to a
fighting frenzy. 

Well, some kind of frenzy, at any rate. 

I'd be featured in the half-time show standing on a portable
stage in the center of the field, exhorting the crowd to greater
efforts, followed by the band serenading me. 

Well, that would be nice, because my sweetie Carl would be
playing, of course, and so would Stephanie, who had a crush on
me. 

And then, if we won, the team would carry me around the field on
their shoulders. 

Oh God. 

And, of course there were rumors that MSS, and certain of the
less inhibited cheerleaders, took part in the football team's
post game festivities, though that was strictly off the record,
unofficial and frowned upon by The Powers That Be. 

Oh GOD! I would have to do ALL of that naked!! Except, I
desperately hoped, the last item. That I could successfully
avoid. 

I hoped. 

But why me? Who could have possibly suggested me for MSS? 

Freschetti! 

He was big cheese on the football team! He had to have engineered
it. 

Freschetti's revenge! 

I was still thinking up new tortures for him when the bell rang
ending classes for the day. If I'd had the well-spring of his
progeny in my hands at that moment I would have ripped them off
and stamped them into jelly on the classroom floor.  

And you thought I was a nice person? HAH! I'd have roasted them
over the pep rally bonfire. 

While they were still attached! 

Somehow, in a performance that should have earned me an Academy
Award, I managed to give the impression that I was, indeed,
flattered and honored by this unexpected recognition of my
unflagging school spirit. First it was the kids in the history
class, then it was the general population in the hallways. 

Since I had become part of The Program I  had, of course, become
one of the more recognized figures (pun intentional) around
school. Everyone, it seemed, wanted to congratulate me, pat me on
the back, and other places, or shake my hand, or other parts of
me, or both. 

I was blushing from head to toe by the time I reached the door
and escaped to where Carl was waiting, his bike and mine locked
in the rack. 

"Freschetti," was all Carl had to say, and I knew he understood.
I practically crumpled into my sweetie's arms, bawling while he
stroked and cuddled me. 

"What are you going to do?" he asked me when I finally had
regained a semblance of control and blown my nose. 

"I don't know," I admitted gloomily. "There's nothing I can do. I
was going to be naked for the weekend anyway. Now I just have to
humiliate myself in front of ten thousand people." 

He shuffled his feet, neither of us making a move to unlocking
our bikes. 

"We don't draw crowds that big," he pointed out. 

"Whatever," I grouched. 

"Uh - I've been there myself, remember?" 

How could I forget? He'd been required to march naked with the
band, even been honored by being the one selected to dot the "i"
in the formation that spelled out Central High. 

"You were so brave!" I exclaimed, giving him a hug. 

"You're brave, too," he insisted, hugging me back. "You can do
it. I know you can!" 

"I guess I'll find out," I answered, kneeling to work the
combination on my bike lock. "Starting tonight, at the pep rally.
You'll be there, won't you?" I asked desperately. 

"I wouldn't miss it," he assured me, unlocking his bike. 

I stood up, only to be engulfed in the warm, loving mass of
Stephanie. After a lot of hugging and slobbering and kissing and
petting we disentangled ourselves. 

"I'll be there, too," Steph insisted loyally. "I'll - I'll even
stand there naked beside you!" 

"And me!" Carl offered. 

I looked at them, unable to believe they'd do that for me.
Greater love hath no one, I thought, but I realized that I
couldn't let them do that. 

"Thanks, guys, but no, you can't do that," I argued. "It - well,
it wouldn't be right. What they're doing - what Freschetti's
doing is already abusing MSS and The Program enough. I have to do
this alone." 

I took a deep breath while they tried to argue me out of it. 

"Don't you see, the best way to beat him is to stand up to him.
I'll do it, and I'll do it proudly, with dignity." 

"Dignity? MSS is dignified?" Stephanie snorted sarcastically. 

I stood tall - well, as tall as I can - and proudly. "It will
have dignity," I insisted. "I will not let that gorilla drag me
down to his level." 

"But, we have to do something!" Stephanie insisted. 

"You can," I assured her. "Walk home with me while we brainstorm
some ways to turn this mess around." 

Something about "gods" was rattling around in the back of my
head, and I had an idea. "But first, where do those guys get that
stuff they use to color their faces and hair with the school
colors? Let's stop there on the way." 

"You've got an idea," Carl observed. 

"The germ of one, at least," I admitted. "Do either of you have
any money? I forgot my purse," I admitted, looking down at my
naked self, hearing the honks of the seniors' cars as they drove
past us and out the driveway. 


<15th attachment end>

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