Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Beth Naked in School

   by peregrinf

   Copyright(c) 2010 by peregrinf

   ------ Description: Part 3 of the Carl NIS series.  It is best to read
Carl NIS first, then Carl NIS - Beth's Story second, then this one.  Beth
helped Carl being naked in school, and now it is her turn.  What will he
do? She's not as shy, now, and isn't about to be bullied.  But what a pep
rally, and after the football game.
Codes: mf ff cons rom reluc les het span gang 1st oral mastrb pett exhib
voy teach sch

   ------

   Chapter 9

   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 on his handkerchief.

   "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.

   I was going to give them a Miss School Spirit that they'd never forget.