This story was inspired by a story idea posted by another reader.
In an effort to break new ground, I divided the narrative into a
series of vignettes, told from various points of views around the
stadium. If you think this style works, I may use it again.
THE TATTOO
by
Joe Doe
LOCAL POLICE STRIP WOMEN AT A ROCK CONCERT IN A VAIN EFFORT TO FIND
A SUSPECT WITH A CERTAIN TATTOO.
Part 1
04/01/01 (AP): A ROCK CONCERT TURNED SOUR AS LOCAL POLICE AND
PRIVATE SECURITY GUARDS INTERRUPTED THE SHOW SATURDAY NIGHT.
AFTER USHERING ALL OF THE FANS UNDER 18 TO THE EXITS, THE POLICE
ANNOUNCED THAT THEY WERE RESPONDING TO A TIP THAT A NOTORIOUS
FEMALE CRIMINAL, CODE NAMED "THE FOX," WAS AT THE CONCERT.
THE FOX IS KNOWN TO BE AN ATTRACTIVE BLONDE FEMALE BETWEEN 18 AND
30 YEARS OF AGE, WITH A SMALL TATTOO OF A FOX SOMEWHERE ON HER
BODY. IN ORDER TO FACILITATE THE SEARCH, ALL WOMEN FITTING THE
GENERAL DESCRIPTION WERE STRIPPED NAKED AND SEARCHED FOR BOTH THE
TATTOO AND FOR ANY OTHER "EVIDENCE." ALL BODY HAIR BELOW THE NECK
WAS REMOVED TO FACILITATE THE SEARCH.
NUMEROUS COMPLAINTS WERE FILED AFTER HUNDREDS OF WOMEN WERE
STRIPPED NAKED IN FULL VIEW OF MALE CONCERT-GOERS. OTHER
COMPLAINTS CENTERED ON THE FACT THAT THE WOMEN WERE SEARCHED
BY MALE POLICE OFFICERS OR POORLY TRAINED, MINIMUM WAGE
"DEPUTIES" HIRED THROUGH A TEMPORARY SERVICE.
******************************
THERE WERE HUNDREDS OF STORIES IN THE NAKED CITY THAT NIGHT. HERE
ARE JUST A FEW:
George Hayes smiled as he sat in the stands watching the show. The
mass strip-search was poorly organized, but the show was fabulous.
All males, brunette females, and female blondes over the age of
thirty who could present ID were allowed to leave immediately,
but, like George, most of the hornier guys and bitchier girls
stayed behind to enjoy the show. Most of them milled around
the "stripping stations" located near the exits, but, with his
binoculars and the zoom lens of his video camera, George's seat
in the bleachers was the best in the house.
Each "suspect" had to pass through 6 stations in order to achieve
a hand stamp that allowed her to exit:
Station 1: The women were required to strip absolutely naked,
and their clothing, purses, and other possessions were placed
in numbered boxes that would be returned to them later. To
avoid confusion later on, the "locker number" of each female
was written on her bare backside using a red magic marker, much
to the amusement of the crowd. The delighted spectators made
"MOO!" sounds as each woman was forced to bend over for her
"branding" with the marker.
Station 2: The stark naked women were then required to line up
and wait for a turn at the "shaving station." They were forced
to mount a gynecological exam table where their pussies were
first "trimmed' by helpful volunteers with scissors and then
shaved bare with electric clippers or safety razors.
The initial stripping proceeded very quickly, but the shaving took
a long time, and the stadium was soon filled with naked women
waiting their turn under the pitiless razor. The women were
forced to stand with their hands on top of their heads, and
would have become hopelessly bored and exhausted if the taunts
and hoots from their many admirers hadn't kept them alert.
Station 3: After each of the women was shaved billiard ball
bare, she was forced to march double-time to an open area for
"exercises." They were spaced evenly and forced to do jumping
jacks, squats, and knee bends in order to "loosen any contraband."
The climax of the exercise session was an aerobics dance routine,
led by a lovely young aerobics instructor who put the women through
their grueling paces.
George admired the blonde aerobics instructor's ability to get
the humiliated women to kick their legs in the air and wiggle
their butts in front of the hooting crowd. It was really too
bad that the local police hadn't let her keep her leotard on.
Station 4: Women nervously stiffened as they approached the dreaded
"cavity search station." Another group of exam tables, this time
staffed by a large group of eager young men sharing the largest box
of rubber gloves that George had ever seen. Every now and then, a
few naked women would be enlisted to go to the back of the
auditorium and roll out a new vat of lard (which would, of
course, soon be used to grease them up).
It was bizarre (but strangely exciting) to watch the blushing,
panting, naked women obediently trundle the huge vat across the
lawn under the direction of their male captors. George would
have given a penny for their thoughts....
Station 5: As if the cavity search weren't bad enough, the
humiliated women were forced to stand spread-eagled while
grinning lowlifes with flashlights and toothpicks searched
every inch of their exposed flesh for the legendary fox tattoo.
George couldn't tell if the guards ever found the tattoo, but,
judging from their enormous smiles, it was clear that this
station was a real crowd-pleaser.
Station 6: At the final station, the women were herded together
and forced to stand with their bodies pressed against each other
until a hundred or so women were in the group. Then each woman
was given the box with her clothes and, with a sharp slap on her
bare fanny, was ordered to dress.
George wasn't sure why the women were required to press against one
another before their clothes were returned, but the constant taunts
of "lesbo" and "you love it, don't you?" made him suspect that the
male guards had some motive other than law enforcement.
George's equipment that night had allowed him to zoom in and film
several of his neighbors, a score of girls who had refused to date
him, and the entire cheerleading squad of the college he attended.
He had gone to the stupid concert because his bitchy professor had
told him that filming the concert was the only way for him to pass
her film class. He had initially suspected that the pompous
professor was forcing him to create a free video of the concert.
But now George had to admit that she was right; the look on the
professor's face when the greasy finger was driven home during
her cavity search was a moment that would live in cinematic
history.
******************************
Paula Evans was never one to let her sympathy for other people
interfere with a good story. Sent to cover the concert as part
of a "fluff piece" for her local news station, Paula knew there
was ratings gold in filming a bevy of beauties forced to strip
to the buff.
It was only a few minutes before airtime when her producer got
a "brilliant idea" for making the story more "relevant and
involving." Paula thought it was a terrible idea, but the
armed guards her producer summoned soon changed her mind.
As the red light on top of the camera went on, Paula began to
speak. "This is Paula Evans, reporting live from the concert.
As you can see, I have joined the small army of women who are
being forced to strip for their tattoo examinations. Like the
other women, I have no choice in the manner, and no special
consideration is being made for my modesty or dignity."
Paula finished taking off her blouse and began to slowly unzip her
skirt as the boneheaded anchorman back at the station asked his
stupid questions. "What does it feel like to have to strip in
front of all those men, Paula?"
"It's intensively humiliating, Ed," she replied truthfully.
"Not only have I attracted a large crowd of spectators who
have recognized me, but right now I'm stripping in front of
my producer and camera crew. These are men that I work with
every day, and it's incredibly embarrassing to have to shuck
down while being ogled by them."
"I can see that, Paula," he replied, jovially. "Don't adjust your
sets, folks. Paula's face is really that red."
Paula tried to strip as slowly as possible, but, by the time she
was ready to "turn it back to Ed" she was wearing nothing but her
red bra and panties.
"Your face is almost as red as your underwear, Paula," Ed chuckled.
"But they're not going to let you keep those cute little undies on,
are they?"
"No they're not, Ed," she replied, trying not to lose her cool.
"My producer has told me in no uncertain terms that I have to
'strip to the skin, same as everyone else.' But unfortunately
we're out of time, and I'm going to have to turn it back to
you...."
"Good news, Paula!" Ed gushed, holding the earphone against his
ear. "The news director had just said that we can stay with you,
and the security guards said that they will let you cut to the
front of the line so that the folks at home can watch as you're
shaved, exercised, and searched."
Paula stared thunderstruck at the camera. They couldn't make her
strip naked on TV! Her credibility would be ruined! She started
to protest, but, as two of the security guards moved closer to
"assist her," she quickly turned her back to the camera.
Paula had been angling for Ed's job for months, and he smiled as he
saw his proud competitor reach behind her and undo the clasp on her
bra. As she shrugged off her bra and revealed her perfect bare
back to the camera, Ed decided to postpone the other stories and
spend the entire newscast with Paula. After all, the news that
the Hubble Space Telescope had discovered an alien attack fleet
on the way from Mars could always be reported tomorrow.
******************************
Shirley Wilson had the world by the tail, and she knew it. At the
age of 38 she was a millionaire and a successful business owner
with the power and the money to do what she wanted, when she wanted.
It was child's play for her to order her employees to fork over
their hard-earned money to pay for tickets to a concert she wanted
to attend. She didn't have any friends, so why not order her
employees to be her "friends," and pay for a "company outing"
out of their own pockets?
Of course she conveniently "forgot" her purse at home, which
allowed her to beat the check that night. But her cheapness
meant she had no ID, and she reaped a bitter harvest. Despite
her noisy protests, she soon found herself naked with her hands
on top of her head nervously awaiting her date with the clippers.
The funny thing is that although none of the employees had wanted
to go the concert, once she was in line none of them would leave.
Shirley was horrified as her grinning employees watched the
guards strip her of her garments, her pride, and her dignity.
She closed her eyes and tried not to listen to her employees'
crude, half-whispered appraisals of her naked body. She had
pleaded with them to go, but they insisted that they needed to
lend her "moral support." But their sniggering remarks and
lewd appraisals were anything but supportive....
******************************
Peter Willis smiled. A few weeks ago he had been an unemployed
high school drop out, endlessly making the rounds in a desperate
effort to find a job.
But the temporary service had hired him a few days ago, and now
he was wearing a crisp new uniform and shiny gold badge.
He almost choked with laughter when he ordered the snotty landlady
who had been trying to evict him for the last three months to take
off all her clothes. The look on her face had truly been a Kodak
moment.
The female physician who had fired him from his job at the hospital
didn't look so haughty when Peter ordered her to "spread 'em" and
get on the exam table. He took his time with her exam, remembering
how he had been dinged for "carelessness" during his final
performance review.
Now he was watching the cute college coeds who had looked at him
so disdainfully when was down and out lie on their backs and do
bicycle kicks in the air. He knew most of the girls by name, and,
from the looks on their faces, he could tell that they recognized
him, as well.
Peter polished his badge with his handkerchief and prepared to make
his way back to the exam table to shave the social worker who had
cut off his welfare benefits last week.
The temp guard job didn't pay much, but you had to love the benefits.
******************************
Nicky Kelly, a curvy 20-something, loved torturing Tommy Dooley.
Last year, Tommy had been a well-built (if somewhat bookish)
18-year-old high school senior when she had moved in next door
next to him, and she had immediately invited him over to her
backyard pool to rub suntan oil on her back.
She loved strutting around in front of Tommy in her bikini or in
her short, sexy nurse's uniform. She had Tommy over to her house
almost every weekend performing degrading chores for meager wages,
all the while using it as a chance to tease him into a frenzy.
When she found the stash of "Playboy" magazines in Tommy's room, it
was she who convinced his widowed mother that bare-bottom spankings
and lots of corner time were best for dealing with Tommy's
"perverted urges." And, since Tommy's mother didn't want to
do it, Nicky was happy to help "correct" the wayward boy herself.
Tommy would regularly sneak into his old tree house to watch Nicky
undress in her bedroom, and she would delight in walking out of
view seconds before she removed her bra and panties.
One day, as a joke, Nicky sawed a few of the support branches in
half. She had expected the tree house would collapse, of course,
but she felt bad when Tommy broke both of his forearms.
Now that he was forced to lie in his bed with his arms locked in
traction above his head, he was totally at Nicky's mercy. His arm
casts prevented him from masturbating, but Nicky thoughtfully
filled that void by straddling his chest and giving him a sponge
bath every day, massaging his rigid member until he was begging
for a release that she refused to grant.
Nurse Nicky delighted in force-feeding him foods he hated, and
taking his temperature rectally, and watching as the humiliated
teenager urinated into the bottle she held for him. At night, she
would hook up the baby monitor and point Tommy's bed towards her
house, so he could watch the shadows as she made love to his
friends from college, while listening to their moans and groans.
"Exercises" consisted of Tommy bringing his knees up to his chest
and bicycle-peddling. Of course, Nicky would use her thick leather
belt across his bare bottom whenever he slowed the pace. Just the
sight of her unhooking her belt and teasingly pulling it through
her belt loops was enough to cause him to break into a cold sweat.
Tommy was in excellent physical shape at the end of his three
months of traction. But his inability to climax and Nicky's
cruel treatment had caused him to develop the most delightful
stutter.
The injury had forced him to drop out of school for a semester, and
he had taken a guard service job until school started in the fall.
He never imagined that the job would deliver the naked, humiliated
Nicky right into his lap at the concert.
"You always taught me the importance of using plenty of lube,
Nicky," he teased, as the naked nurse squirmed under his touch.
"Now, just relax your tight little bottom hole, and let Dr. Tommy
do his job."
Nicky winced as she felt the teenager's happy middle finger
teasingly probe her most intimate recess. The pictures Tommy
had of her now could ruin her at the hospital, and she knew that
the power games between them would be very different from then on.
Later that night in Nicky's bedroom, Tommy lost both his virginity
and his speech impediment. For Nicky it was a night of firsts:
her first strip-search, her first experience with anal sex, and
her first spanking. It was also the first time she had ever
swallowed, but from the smile on Tommy's face she knew it wouldn't
be her last.
Nicky just hoped that the speech therapist at the hospital would be
able to help her with her nervous lisp....
******************************
Part 2
AN FBI AGENT ENDS UP ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE GLOVE, THE "FOX" HUNT
TRAPS TWO POLICE VICTIMS, AND A POP DIVA FACES THE MUSIC. ALL THAT
PLUS GUEST APPEARANCES BY NATALIE, HOLLY, AND ASHLEY.
**********
FBI agent Susan March was not a particularly large or powerful
woman, and she relied on her personality and mannerisms to get
the results she wanted. She was the perfect person to train the
nervous security guards who would be conducting the searches.
Susan was an excellent trainer, and it took her only a few hours to
show her students how to cow a woman with a sharp stare, a cutting
remark, or a small but forceful gesture. Her students became very
adept at dominating any situation, and it wasn't long before they
started teasing her about the fact that SHE fit the profile.
At first she found the running joke amusing, and then strangely
exciting. She had always wondered what it would be like to be
stripped of her badge, her gun, and her authority. After those
had been ripped away from her, it would be easy to remove her
clothing....
Although she had been fantasizing about it all week, she was
still stunned when her students surrounded her on the night
of the concert.
Stanley took the lead. He had bombed out when he tried to get
into the FBI and the police academy (and had been lucky to get
a job working at the guard service). Susan had spent a lot of
extra time with him, teaching him how to assert himself, and
he was about to put the training to good use.
"We think you'd better give us your badge, gun, and purse, Suzie,"
Stanley explained gently. "We can't have a suspect running around
with a gun, can we?"
Susan said nothing, but swallowed hard and meekly surrendered the
symbols of her authority. "Now you'd better hurry up and join the
other girls in line, Suzie," Stanley said, in a patronizing voice.
"You don't want to lose your turn."
She tried to ignore the snickers from her students as she laced her
fingers together on top of her head and obediently marched to the
end of the line.
It didn't take long to strip her out of her crisp, no-nonsense FBI
pantsuit, and the proud FBI agent was soon standing as naked as a
jaybird, waiting submissively for her turn under the razor.
It wasn't until she saw her former partner, Hank, that her panic
attack began.
Hank had been assigned just a few hours earlier as a last-minute
replacement, and Susan would have never submitted to a search if
she had known he was there. He had made clumsy passes at her for
years, until she finally brought him up on charges of sexual
harassment. His demotion had been a good lesson for him, but
he was the last person that Susan wanted to see in her current
situation.
She tried to slip out of line and make her way back to her clothes.
But she had gotten only a few feet when she felt a strong hand on
her shoulder.
"Where do you think YOU'RE going?" the authoritarian voice said.
She turned around and saw it was Stanley. For a moment, she was
relieved. She had kept Stanley from flunking out of the training
program, and she knew that he owed her big time. Certainly, as
her star student, he would give her a break.
"Please, Stanley, let me get my clothes. One of my fellow agents
is heading over here, and I can't let him see me like this."
"I'll be happy to give you your clothes back, Suzie," Stanley
replied in a reasonable voice. He paused for a moment, and
let Susan's hopes build. Then he squeezed down on the scruff
of her neck and turned her around so that she was facing the
line again. "But you are going to be shaved and searched first."
"But Stanley, please. I just can't let him see me like this.
I-I'm...I'm NAKED!" she whined.
"Yes, I can see that," he chuckled. "Anyone who walks by can see
THAT. And, when your friend walks by, he's going to see it, too."
"But Stanley...."
He cut her off by delivering a loud SPANK! across the cheeks of her
shapely bare bottom. "It's OFFICER to you, scum!" SPANK!
Susan winced, bending her knee and lifting her foot off the ground
in a humiliating little spanking dance. "At least let me cut to
the front of the line and get it over with. If I stand around all
day, he's bound to see me."
"What makes you so special?" Stanley said. "You'll wait your turn
in line, just like all the rest of them."
"Ooooh...you can't do this to me."
"Don't tell me what I can and can't do, girlie," he replied,
sharply. "You FBI agents are always so smart. You always
have all the answers. Well, I'm in charge now, and I have
a few answers myself."
"MARCH!" He punctuated his command with another sharp spank on
her behind. "And put your hands on top of your head, just like
the other girls. I'm tired of your lip."
Susan obediently put her hands on top of her head as he dragged her
by the scruff of the neck back to the line. She tried to return to
her former place, but Stanley told her that her "insubordinate
attitude" meant that she would have to go to the end of the line,
behind the last girl.
So she stood unhappily at the end of the line, desperately waiting
for her turn. She tried to ignore the smug, satisfied smiles of
the other women in the line, who were delighted to see the haughty
FBI agent (who had been barking commands at them a few minutes
before) reduced to their level. Watching Stanley spank her butt
as he marched her to the end of line had been delicious....
In the distance she could see her nemesis, Hank, slowly perusing
the rows of naked women, occasionally stopping to squeeze a
particularly ripe bottom cheek or take a Polaroid of some blushing
victim. It would be at least an hour before Susan reached the
front of the line now, thanks to Stanley. But Hank would see her
any minute....
******************************
Holly smiled as she watched her blushing cousin, Natalie, perform
her jumping jacks. In her head, Holly totaled the costs of the
evening's festivities:
Cost of finding out in advance about the strip-search: 6 months of
dating Officer Gabby "Hands" Johnson.
Cost of convincing Natalie that dying her hair blonde would allow
Natalie to steal Holly's boyfriends: 6 beers at the bar.
Cost of paying for Natalie's dye job as a birthday present: $50.
Cost of tracking down the 10 most obnoxious 18-year-old seniors in
the high school Natalie taught at and buying them tickets to the
concert: 2 days and $1500.
Cost of buying concert tickets for Natalie and her: $300.
Cost of the videotape Holly was using to record the proceedings: $3.
Value of watching the blushing Natalie forced to strip naked and
exercise in the buff in front of her laughing, jeering, hooting
students: PRICELESS!
******************************
Sharon Lewis and Ashley Marsh had been playing "dare" since high
school, but now the game had landed them in real trouble. When
Sharon's niece had gotten the flu and had been unable to attend
the concert, Sharon and Ashley had decided to go as a lark, even
going so far as to dress up like the college coeds they had been
ten years before.
When the searches were announced, they both headed toward the
exits, since their IDs would prove that the two successful women
were both over thirty. It was only when a policeman leeringly
suggested that the two "lovely young ladies might be in the wrong
line" that Ashley got the bright idea of actually submitting to
the search VOLUNTARILY.
Sharon swallowed hard. As a successful and wealthy investment
banker, she was used to being in control, and the idea of
surrendering every stitch of clothing to a bunch of loser
security guards was deeply humiliating. But somehow the
degradation seemed strangely exciting, and, when Ashley upped
the ante by "daring" her and making clucking sounds to signify
that she was chicken, she quickly abandoned the exit and
dutifully took her place in line.
Now the lovely banker and the lady lawyer stood as naked as
jaybirds with their hands on top of their heads, submissively
waiting for their appointment with the razor. Ashley realized
almost immediately that she had made a mistake, but, when she
explained to one of the leering guards what had happened and
begged to be allowed to get her ID out of her purse, he just
laughed and told her that it was "too late for that now." A
sharp SLAP across her bare bottom sent the blushing barrister
scurrying back to the line.
Ashley swallowed hard. Just a few hours ago she had been a
successful attorney, self-confident and in control. The idea
that some minimum wage rent-a-cop would laugh in her face when
she asked for help was preposterous. But now this absurd series
of coincidences had transformed her into just another helpless,
naked babe, ripe and ready for plucking.
The two women didn't realize just how vulnerable they were until
they got close enough to the shaving table to see that they would
be sheared by the same group of Mexican workers who maintained the
lawns in the fancy subdivision where they both lived.
So they were forced to stand buck naked in front of the same men
they had been ordering around their backyards just a few days
before. As Raul led Sharon to the table and spread her legs, she
begged for the chance to get her purse and be released.
Raul chuckled softly as he spread her legs and ran his fingers
through the soft red curls covering her womanhood. He pulled
out a small plastic bag and laid it on her stomach.
"When I eshave you, I will save your hair in the bag and eshow it
to the rest of my crew. That way they'll know that you are really
a natural red head, Señorita."
"Please, Raul!" Ashley put in. "Don't do this to her. You know
this is a mistake. You just have to help us."
He smiled at Ashley. "You wait your turn, my little legal lady.
You'll have a chance to plead your case when I put your dainty
American feet in the stirrups. An' don' worry...Raul has a bag
for you, too." He winked.
He picked up the scissors and held them up a few inches in front
of Sharon's horrified face. "Don't worry, my pretty gringa.
First, Raul will use his scissors to trim your bush," he said,
making a SNIP! SNIP! with the scissors. "Then I will use my
razor to mow your lawn!"
Ashley winced as Raul burst into laughter.
But she respected a man who enjoyed his work.
******************************
The famous pop diva eyed the stage nervously. She was used to
stage fright, but this was different.
The singer knew she shouldn't have thrown a tantrum backstage when
the police interrupted her show. She knew that she shouldn't have
threatened to sue the police department and the FBI. And she
especially knew that she shouldn't have kicked that tubby FBI
agent in the crotch when he had warned her that she should "watch
her mouth" because SHE fit the profile…
Now the star was dancing on stage, with the band thumping out the
familiar rhythm to one of her lame songs. The beautiful blonde
star gyrated in front of the fans still left in the stadium to
watch (and be watched!) during the strip searches.
She had planned to dance a striptease to this song tonight,
although she had always stopped when she got to her gold bra
and panties. But the FBI had given the band other orders,
and the final fadeout quickly turned into a reprise. The
blushing diva looked at the huge monitors with her image on
them as she nervously unhooked her bra.
FBI Agent Sam Watson smiled and slipped on his rubber glove as
he prepared to confront the blushing star at stage center.
Giving this sassy little vixen a cavity search on center
stage might cost him his job, but at least the Bureau wouldn't
be sued for "ruining the show."
******************************
The Fox slid her red sports car into gear and sped out of the empty
parking lot. The phony badge she had purchased over the Internet
had allowed her to avoid the dragnet, and the dopey policemen were
so busy staring at the naked women around them that no one had even
noticed the tiny fox tattooed on her wrist.
A few of the women had noticed and had tried to point it out to
the police officers. But the clever Fox could always create a
diversion simply by ordering the blathering women to "Shut up,
squat, and SPREAD!"
The resulting visual feast always allowed the Fox to slip away.
She parked across from the police station, and it wasn't long
before she saw two pretty blonde policewomen exiting the building
in their civilian clothes. The Fox smiled, and flashed her
"credentials" at the two young women, and asked them to accompany
her to the stadium to help her with the searches. The clever fox
smiled as the two silly hens locked their purses, badges, and guns
in the trunk of her car for "safe-keeping" and crammed themselves
into the back seat of her tiny car....
THE END
Edited by C. Lakewood