“Hi, Donna,” said Gwen, as she bounced into the rec-room. She wore a tight-fitting top that was plenty long enough to serve as a dress. The dress was stylish, with open sides, showing plenty of skin while still covering her decently. Looking around the room, she addressed each of the girls in turn. “Hi Crysta! Hi Toni! Hi Joy! Hi Sa–” She was interrupted by a sharp smack to her cute little behind.
“Why do you feel the need to address each one of us by name,” Donna asked, taking Gwen’s hand.
“Ow! That really hurts!”
Gwen was mad, but her expression softened a bit when Donna took her other hand, and spoke in baby-talk, “Poor little Gwenny Baby.” The other girls laughed at Donna’s exaggerated pouting, making it hard for Donna (or for that matter, Gwen) to keep a straight face. “Tell me where it hurts.” Donna massaged Gwen’s derriere which still bore the imprint of her hand. It didn’t take long before Gwen started to enjoy the massage. She sat in Donna’s lap, and allowed Donna to make it up to her.
“I can’t stay mad at you, Donna. You’re so sweet. I love you.” No one thought it odd that Gwen would profess her love for Donna. Fact is, all the girls loved Donna. Gwen curled up in Donna’s embrace, drinking in soft girly smell of her neck. She wrapped her arms around her friend, and lost herself in Donna’s sweet caresses.
“Did you have a good day, Gwenny?”
Maybe it was an idle question, but Gwen gave it some serious thought. “Yes,” she said as if she had just made a profound discovery. “Yes, I did.” She relaxed as Donna gently rubbed her inner thighs, the bottoms of her feet together, letting her knees rest on Donna’s legs.
“That’s good,” Donna said. “No inspections?”
“Nope!” Gwen beamed. Inspections were particularly hard on poor Gwen, because she was so shy, and because, like Donna, she found herself turned on against her will by the prospect of being made to strip in public. She knew there was no intent to humiliate girls by inspecting them, and it was all just routine — all the girls get inspected now and then — but she still found inspections embarrassing and at the same time somehow exciting. And having a fair complexion, it was almost impossible for Gwen to hide her excitement from spectators, so an inspection would turn into a real ordeal for the sweet young girl.
“I think I’m finally getting the hang of the Dress Code,” she said proudly. “I’ve managed to put together a number of really cute outfits that let me feel decent but at the same time show enough skin to keep the inspectors at bay.”
Gwen rubbed her butt, still a bit red from Donna’s slap, and continued reminiscing.
Remembering Gwen’s Gym Uniform
I remember how awkward I felt when my family first moved to a different part of the city and went to a new high school. We moved just before school began. It was my senior year, so I didn’t know anyone. My dad went to the school and got the student handbook, and we read it together. It was a wonderful school, if you believe the handbook. They had a pool, and all sorts of activities and clubs. My mom pointed to the section on requirements for new students. Most of it was pretty ordinary, but one thing caught my eye. It said, “All girls are required to wear their gym uniforms, and only their gym uniforms, during gym class. No other clothing is acceptable.” I looked at the glossy pictures of the students running and playing various sports, and all the girls had on were shirts — no shorts.
“Maybe they’re wearing little shorts under their shirts,” my mom suggested.
“Oh yeah?” I countered. Look at this horrible upskirt picture of a girl doing pull-ups! It looks like she has nothing on at all under her gym shirt.
My mom dismissed the idea. “Don’t be silly, I’m sure she’s wearing underwear, a thong at least. I think I can see the strap on this girl’s butt We’ll go to the store tomorrow and get your gym uniform. You’ll rest easier once you try it on.”
The handbook gave the address of the store where we had to go to buy the gym uniform. It was a little clothing store in a strip mall near the school. We went in, jingling a bell attached to the door, and looked around aimlessly. There weren’t any clothes in the store that I would be caught dead wearing. Just as I was about to suggest getting the heck out of there, a little old lady appeared. “How can I help you,” she asked.
“My daughter needs a gym uniform,” said my mom as if I were dumb in more than one sense of the word.
“OK, let’s see. Here we are. See if this fits you.”
I must have looked lost, so the sales lady pointed me to the huge sign that said FITTING ROOM. I saw I only had the top of the gym uniform, and I still needed the bottom, so I emerged only to be ushered back to the fitting room by the little old lady, saying things like “go ahead, dear” and “everything is OK” and crap like that. And my mom was no help. How could she get lost in such a little store? Eventually I decided I would strip down to my panties, and put on the shirt. Feeling a little naked, in just panties and a top, but also glad there were no other customers in the store, I emerged from the fitting room. The lady ushered me to a raised platform where a mirrors reflected three Gwens. “Shouldn’t there be shorts?” I asked, finally. The lady just laughed as if I had said the funniest thing she had heard since the dinosaurs died. “Lift your arms, please,” she said, and then like that she pantsed me! “Step out of your panties, dear”. Like a zombie, I obeyed her, praying my butt wasn’t too exposed. Thank God there was no one else in the store at the time.
Then she lifted the uniform, fully exposing my butt. “Spread your legs a little more, honey,” she ordered, “and relax.” I realized I was completely tense, especially my bare butt, so I made a conscious effort to relax. With an eyebrow pencil, she put two marks on my right cheek — one at the level of my asshole, and the other at the level of my tailbone. “the bottom of your uniform should be between the marks”, she explained. “This one’s too long. Let me get you a smaller size.”
She handed me another uniform. “go ahead and try it on, sweetie.” I looked around for my panties, but I didn’t see them. I figured my mom must have picked them up.
I went back to the sanctity of the changing room, and tried on the “small” size uniform. Oh, my God, it was way too small. My whole butt was exposed! I decided to put the first one on again, but not pull it down so much. I figured I could trick the little old lady into thinking I was wearing the smaller uniform even though I was wearing the same one again.
I emerged from the changing room, and stood on the platform. I could see the lower mark on my butt, just below the bottom of the uniform, so my plan was working. Oh, shit, some people walked in. Another girl my age, with her little brother it seemed, and her mom and dad. Stay away! But the little brother seemed to take a great interest in my butt. He wouldn’t stop staring at me. After a long time, the lady showed up, and started tugging at my little uniform. She was shaking her head and sighing. Not a good sign. She seemed to be getting madder and madder, and then all of a sudden she just whipped off my uniform leaving me stark naked under the watchful eyes of that girl’s little brother, and now his parents started taking an interest in me, too. The little boy’s eyes widened at the sight of six boobs and three pussies reflected in the mirror! I wished I could disappear.
Let me get you a smaller size, the lady said again. I desperately wanted to get back to the safety of the changing room, and I started to move, but she stopped me. It’s OK, she said, stay there, I’ll be right back. It seemed like an eternity, but eventually she came back with an “extra small” size. It was pretty tight on me. Like OJ with the glove, I wanted to prove it was too small, so I purposely left it bunched up around my middle, but the lady pulled it taut, and with some work managed to get the bottom to stay below the “tailbone line” on my butt. She seemed pleased. “Perfect,” she said. Everything was such a blur, but I remember just wanting to get away from that family. I found myself back in the dressing room, took off my uniform, and put my dress back on. Where are my panties? Oh, that’s right. Mom has them. It felt sexy to go commando, and my dress covered me, which felt good!
Probably the “small” would have been acceptable to the lady, but I couldn’t see how to save face now that I had tried to trick her, so we bought the extra small uniform. We walked out of the store, and then I asked my mom for my panties. She got hysterical “you’re not wearing panties?!”
I looked around and said “Shhh!” wishing I could disappear at that moment. “no,” I whispered. “you picked them up, remember?”
“I did no such thing! Let’s go back in the store and find them!”
“no, please, mom, I begged.” For all I knew the little boy was playing with my panties at that very moment!
My mom became suddenly interested in my butt. “I can see the bottoms of your cheeks,” she announced.
“mom!” I stage-whispered
“But people will see you’re not wearing panties.”
I sighed. They’ll think I’m wearing a thong, I said. My mom didn’t seem satisfied by that answer, but she let it go.
We walked together, and I could see she was still worried about people seeing my cute little butt. “Would you like to go home now?”
“No, mom,” I sighed. “I’m fine, really. It’s not like this was the first time I went commando!” Immediately after saying that, I regretted it, but somehow I felt swallowed up by the need to defend my confession. “I bet half the girls in the mall are commando right now,” I said.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” mom chided. We were right by the bottom of the escalator, which was a perfect place to test my theory. I sat on the bench facing the escalator, and patted the seat next to me. Mom hesitated, but then sat, clearly still concerned about my crotch.
“Look” I said, mostly to get my mom’s eyes off my lap. I pointed to a young mother pushing a stroller with one hand and holding her little daughter’s hand with the other appeared.
As she bent forward to adjust the stroller, we could see her thong. Darn! “See?” mom said.
“Just wait.” I was starting to think I was out of luck when a pair of teen-agers got on the escalator, both wearing rolled-up miniskirts that only half-covered their butts. Not only were they commando, but they seemed completely carefree about it, not even trying to keep their legs together, and not worrying about who might be behind them, looking up at their cute little assholes and pussies. I smiled at my mom.
“They’re the exception,” she said, not willing to concede the argument.
We watched for another ten minutes, as one girl after another got on the escalator. Most of them, I had to admit, were “inconclusive”, but at least half of the ones with short skirts were commando.
My mom was completely disillusioned. “I had no idea,” she said.
* * *
Next, part 2.
|… and now, a picture of a girl with a pretty butt, totally unrelated to this story: