|I never gave my gym uniform a second thought. It was a t-shirt with my class on it, 2009. The seniors color was green. The next class, 2010, had yellow shirts, then blue, and the babies who won’t graduate until 2012 wear red shirts. All the shirts are the same size, which means they cover the freshman girls a whole lot better than they cover the seniors.
All of this brings me up to the next point, which is our bull dyke gym teacher, Miss Phineas. She has started to enjoy humiliating some of the girls in our class. Like I said, the shirts are starting to get kinda tight on some of us, and so our panties, if we wear any, have started to show. I’ve been told that in other schools, the uniform includes shorts as well as a shirt, but not at ours. Well, Miss Phineas says she’s sick and tired of seeing our panties. One day she told us the girl wearing the next pair of panties she sees is going to get the “treatment”. But she never said what that meant. Some girls think the “treatment” calls for hanging from the high bar with legs spread wide, while the entire class walks under her, taking whacks at her butt. In any case, the treatment has — so far — not been needed, as we have all “voluntarily” left our panties in the locker room.
Now that we are suitably bottomless at every gym class, Miss Phineas has begun taking particular delight in assigning us to teams labeled “shirts” and “skins”. She makes us count off, 1, 2, 1, 2, etc. and then she calls the 1’s to one side of the gym, and the 2’s to the other side. Then she makes us spread our legs, bend over, and touch our toes to help her decide which team will be skins, and which will be shirts. She actually fondles the bottoms of some of the girls as she walks among them, judging them. The first girl who squeals, or laughs, is stripped, and her team becomes the “skins”. We know this, so we just let her fondle us. Sometimes, she pauses for a long time, and I try not to look, but I think I saw her bring one of the girls in my class to silent orgasm. If that’s true, I’m so proud of that girl for cumming in total silence so as not to cause her whole team to have to strip.
Eventually, though, some girl slips up. She could be goosed by surprise, or spanked suddenly. So then we all have to strip, so we can be the skins. Lately the weather hasn’t been so good, thank God, so we haven’t had to play outside. And on those rare days we’ve been outside, I’ve been lucky enough to be on the “shirts” team. I could see all the faces lining the windows of the classrooms, getting an eyeful of the naked girls.
Lately, Miss Phineas has been on a new kick: running. She says the last ten girls, whoever they are, just aren’t trying hard enough, so she strips them. So far, I’ve been fast enough to keep my clothes on. It’s a good thing, too, because the only way to get your uniform back is to follow Miss P into the cafeteria, naked, and wait for her to call your name. The girls who don’t make it lose their uniforms forever, and I suppose you can imagine the special punishment Miss P gives girls who have lost their uniforms.
It isn’t pretty.
I’m embarrassed because I didn’t think ahead. You see, my panties just don’t go with my skirt. But now, it’s really hard to take off my panties, and pull them all the way over my rollerblades, but I guess I’m gonna have to do that — for the sake of fashion.