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From: bradley_stoke@hushmail.com (Bradley Stoke)
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NNTP-Posting-Date: Tue, 10 Feb 2004 21:41:07 +0000 (UTC)
Subject: {ASSM} Not Naked in School (Bradley Stoke)
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Date: Tue, 10 Feb 2004 21:10:09 -0500
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Title: {ASSM} Not Naked in School (Bradley Stoke) 
Author: Bradley Stoke
Keywords: exhib
Short Summary: Wendy endures the Wagner Program.



Story: Not Naked in School (1,432 words)

Wendy has volunteered for the Wagner Program, in which
she has to spend an entire week not naked in school.
Did she make the right choice? And is the embarrassment
she suffers in front of he fellow pupils really worth it? 



For More : http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Bradley_Stoke/www
           

Not Naked in School
===================


Wendy felt so embarrassed as she stood waiting for the 
school bus, with her fellow school students at the bus stop. 
Her hair was tied in plaits, her skirt came to just below her 
knees, a blazer and blouse covered her from the pit of her 
throat to her waist, and long white socks from her ankles to 
her knees. And worse, if that wasn't bad enough, beneath 
these clothes, she wore a bra and knickers. In fact only her 
knees and hands were exposed to the summer sun. 

The other students regarded her with a mixture of pity and 
humour, unable to snatch their gaze away from her. Why 
had Wendy agreed, indeed, even volunteered, for this 
Program? It seemed such a laugh at the time. Now it felt 
like a punishment. If only she could tear off all these 
clothes and stand naked, as did all her fellow pupils, with a 
pair of shoes as the only necessary encumbrance on her 
body?

The hem of the skirt brushed against her knee as a breeze 
blew by, but the only flesh that could enjoy this welcome 
cooling was that on her cheeks. Her nipples were pressed 
into a bra whose strap dug so deeply into her back and 
shoulders, unable to relish the brush of summer wind. And 
should the skirt be blown up by a more vigorous gust, the 
knickers that squeezed so cruelly into the flesh of her 
buttocks would shelter even her crotch from the same 
breeze. At least, she reasoned, she only had one week of 
this ordeal and these clothes, with which she had dressed 
herself so awkwardly, could return to the museum from 
which they had surely been taken.

No one spoke to Wendy on the bus, although all eyes were 
on her, as she sat alone and self-consciously by the 
window, aware of the bemused stares she attracted from 
pedestrians, naked unlike her, who gawped at her as the 
bus sped by. And when she at last arrived at St. Karen's 
High School and she could join the crowd of pupils 
streaming out of the bus, she averted her gaze as best she 
could from the voyeuristic stares of her fellows.

"So, you're going through with it, Wendy?" asked 
Alexandra, her best friend, who was the only one with the 
courage to approach her.

Wendy nodded. "I said I would, Alex. So here I am: 
knickers, bra, blouse and everything!"

"How does it feel?" Alexandra asked. "Doesn't it feel 
terribly restrictive?"

"Very," Wendy admitted. "I guess I might not notice it so 
much when I get used to it, but it all feels very tight. When 
I swing my arms, I've got all this weird cloth stuff between 
me and my body. It's not natural!"

"Oh, you poor thing!" Alexandra sighed, leaning her lips 
and face close to Wendy's for the kiss, often passionate and 
usually with tongue, with which the two best friends 
normally greeted each other.

Wendy shrunk back. "No, I can't!"

"Can't?" wondered a noticeably put-out Alexandra.

"It's this program, the Dr Wagner Program, I volunteered 
for," Wendy explained. "It's not just clothes. It's touching 
as well. I'm not allowed to touch anyone, however much I 
want to. In fact, the more I want to touch someone the 
more I mustn't. And I mustn't let anyone touch me."

Alexandra was visibly unhappy at this. She frowned with 
disappointment. "No kisses? No cuddles? Not even holding 
hands?"

"It's the Program."

"What can I do? I need a kiss to start the day," Alexandra 
moaned.

"Kiss Kate," Wendy suggested. "She's always liked you."

"And you don't mind?"

"We'll make up for it next week."

Alexandra sighed again, but she nodded. She sought out 
Kate, a plump girl with glasses, and gave her the affection 
that Wendy normally enjoyed. She strode off towards the 
school entrance, evading her eyes from the sight of Kate 
enjoying Alexandra's tongue inside her mouth, and 
pretending not to notice the eyes that followed her stride.

Her ordeal was worsened during assembly where she was 
discreetly separated from the other fifth form girls and sat 
on a chair, slightly apart from the teachers, just behind the 
headmaster. And, of course, it was she who was the main 
subject of the headmaster's address as he explained to the 
other students, ogling at the unnatural clothing that hid her 
body, what a splendid student Wendy was in choosing to 
participate in the Wagner Program. An example to 
everyone, as the headmaster was sure everyone agreed.

"St Karen's has always been proud to be in the forefront of 
educational advance," the headmaster announced. "We 
were amongst the first to adopt 100% course work and 
abandon the tyranny of exams. We welcomed the 
introduction of a permanent sex counsellor. We provided 
mixed showers. And now we are proud to be a pilot in this 
experiment in clothing. I admit to being one of those who 
most find the notion of school uniform, or any kind of 
clothing, slightly disturbing and even unnatural, but it 
remains to be seen whether the Program delivers the 
benefits it promises to students who wish to hide their 
bodies from view. Naturally, should the Program be 
adopted more universally," and the headmaster paused to 
gauge the anxiety on the assembled pupils' faces, "I will do 
my best to ensure that this is adopted on a purely 
voluntarily basis."

As Wendy sat there, the skirt tugging her waist against the 
velour of the seat, she wished most of all to throw off every 
accursed shred of clothing and let her untrammelled bosom 
and neat patch of pubic hair feel the air about her. Her ears 
burned from the shame of being the centre of everyone's 
attention, most undisguised from the younger pupils who 
had never seen a sight of a clothed person except in history 
books, and not even glimpsed in pornographic magazines.

And Wendy's isolation didn't end there. As she entered the 
classroom for her first lesson of the day, English with Mrs 
McNabb, she was confronted by the sight of the Deputy 
Headmaster talking to her teacher. 

"Good morning, Wendy," he said with an understanding 
smile. "You'll have to sit at a desk by yourself, I'm afraid."

"Must I?" Wendy pleaded, gazing longingly at the desk she 
usually shared with Anne.

"I'm afraid the temptation to touch your fellow students, or 
them touching you, is far too great, Wendy," he said 
sympathetically. "Even brushing your thigh against another 
student isn't permitted on the Program."

Wendy nodded. Although she hated the idea of sitting 
isolated, with just an empty seat for company, she saw the 
sense of it within the constraints of the Program. Many 
students, she amongst them, enjoyed the close proximity of 
their fellows' naked bodies rather too much. She and Anne 
often let their fingers wander into the warm and moist 
recesses of the other's vulva. But her own exploration was 
as nothing compared with that of the boys in the class, 
especially Gareth and Dennis, who were forever jerking 
each other off underneath the shadow of the desk. Boys 
were always the worst! Wendy didn't envy the school 
cleaners who had to sponge off the mess they left behind.

She sat at her desk, at the front of the class, right up next to 
Mrs McNabb whose huge bosom was tantalisingly close to 
her eyes. The back of her neck, unusually uncovered by 
hair tied into plaits and held in place by little bows, burned 
from the searing gaze of the rest of the class.

As she sat there, uncomfortable and undignified, her eyes 
focused more often on the clock above the blackboard than 
on the words Mrs McNabb chalked there, her mind was not 
really on the proper use of commas and semicolons, but 
rather on those slowly moving hands.

She wished only that those hands would move faster, and 
that every agonising minute of each tormenting hour of 
each excruciating day would pass by with the sped-up 
acceleration of a fast-forward button. The focus of her 
thoughts was entirely on the wish that the week would 
soon be gone, and, unconfined and free again, she could 
refer to her current ordeal in the past tense. And she still 
had to look forward to the trauma of P.E. where she'd have 
to change into the sports kit she had stuffed into her 
backpack.

Was the promise of a few extra credits, and the wish to 
please her parents' desire that she participate in this grand 
experiment, really worth her present misery and 
humiliation?







For More : http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Bradley_Stoke/www

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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