Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Carl Naked in School Beths Story

   by peregrinf

   ------ Synopsis: A shy girl has a crush on Carl Walker.  How does she
deal with him being naked in school?  It is, as they say, an eye opener,
and has quite an effect, on her, and her family.  And she hasn't a thing to
wear to the Homecoming Dance!
Codes: mf cons rom het oral mastrb pett exhib voy sch nud

   ------

   Chapter 5

   As you know if you read Carl's report on his week naked in school, when
he met my parents he carried the day, or evening, as the case may be,
winning over daddy, and charming mom.  The only surprise was the way mom
punctured daddy's hypocrisy by reminding of his own libidinous (don't you
just love that word?) response to their teen-age skinny dipping.

   I'd known, of course, that they'd been childhood sweethearts.  They'd
grown up in a rural area, on neighboring farms, and we still visit my
grammy and grampy Finch there.  But when she reminded him of how they'd
gone skinny dipping in a neighbor's pond when she'd been my age, and that
he'd gotten an erection at the sight of her!  Well, you could have knocked
me over with a feather!

   I tried to imagine it, and then kind of wished I hadn't.  Children
really shouldn't be exposed to their parents' sex lives!  But if I just
thought of it the right way, it was really sweet, actually - kind of
romantic, even.  I couldn't help wondering if they'd done more than just
look, of course, but quickly shut that train of thought off.  Like I say,
that's not for kids to know about their parents!

   Or for parents to know about their kids, come to think of it; at least
not the carnal details.

   After I said goodnight to Carl on the porch there was the usual family
post mortem, with both of them assuring me they found Carl very nice. 
Daddy wasn't totally happy, but he wanted ME to be happy, which was what
I'd been counting on as the decisive factor.  Like I said, he dotes on me -
and I dote on him, too, I admit it!  So there.  It's mutual!

   And that all led to the Great Dress Hunt!

   But not before I'd navigated the shoals of the next day, Friday, a
school day, of course, but it started late.  I heard Karen got gang-banged
that morning, before school.  Personally I think that went well beyond the
"reasonable request" scope of the program, but I guess she didn't mind it.
I don't plan to get gang banged ever, unless Carl is the Gang of One that
does it!  And certainly not before lunch time!  I am not a morning person.

   Carl, of course, was as excited as I was about going to the dance.  I
got to relieve him twice, as you may know.  Both times I did it on my knees
in front of the whole class.  Both times I collected his cum all over my
blouse and skirt.  I went through the day stained with his semen, and I was
very proud of it.

   I agree with Carl, too, about the afternoon assembly.  Why were only the
girls up there?  There were at least three boys who'd spent the entire week
naked, but girls were all that was up there on stage!

   It wasn't right, and I intend to write a strongly worded letter to the
management regarding this inequity.

   After I graduate, of course.  I feel it is better not to bite the hand
that holds your diploma and college recommendations, after all!

   Anyway, come the end of the school day and there was the usual stampede
for the exits.  Carl, unfortunately, had band practice - nude!  I wish I'd
had the chance to see it, but The Great Dress Hunt was on!  Mom picked me
up and we were off to the biggest mall around.

   "And what have you got all over your clothes?" she asked as I got in the
car.

   Okay, I blushed.  "Uh, I had an accident in chem lab?" I alibied.

   "Oh, really?"

   I don't think she believed me.  First of all, she knew we always wear
enough safety equipment to walk through fire.  And, secondly, I am very
meticulous in chem class.  I'm the one who always gets picked to refill the
reagent bottles under the hood, because I never spill.

   "I read the brochure, you know," mom added.

   "Did you!" I responded brightly.

   That was all that was said.  Like I said, it's best if parents and
children remain essentially ignorant of the details of each others' carnal
doings.

   Never let it be said that I enjoy shopping, because believe me, I DON'T.
I particularly hate clothes shopping.  Which, I suppose, explains my
limited wardrobe.

   Mom doesn't usually rag on me, but she did this time, about the state of
my clothes - the ones I was wearing at that moment, that is.

   "Maybe we should stop by the house and you could change," mom dithered.

   "It's too far to go back now," I pointed out.  "Let's just get this over
with.  You know how I feel about shopping."

   "Well, I don't like it either, dear," mom reminded me.  "But you don't
have a thing to wear to the dance."

   She was right, I didn't.  But I really hate shopping!  I get
claustrophobic in those changing rooms.  And getting in and out of clothes
in those places is a real nuisance, you must agree.

   As we cruised the lot looking for a parking space, I was a bit surprised
to see a couple of girls from school heading for the entrance wearing
nothing more than a smile and shoes.  I guess the program was really taking
hold.  I even saw a mother/daughter pair, both topless, heading in!  At
this rate, half the town would be walking around naked by the end of next
week.

   "Oh, just look at your clothes," mom observed for the umpteenth time as
I got out of the car.

   Looking down at myself, I had to admit she had a point.  It looked like
my milk carton had exploded on me at lunch time.

   "Can't we go home so you can change?" she pleaded.

   "We're here now.  Let's get it done!"

   "But you're such a - a mess!"

   I looked around, looked down at myself, looked around again.  "All
right, I'll do something about it!"

   A flick of my fingers had my skirt unbuttoned and unzipped and it
dropped around my ankles.  Stepping out of it, I tossed it in the car,
leaving me in just my blouse and panties.

   "Oh my," mom murmured.  "Are you sure you want to do this?"

   "It's legal.  I saw two girls from school going in with less than this
on," I pointed out as I unbuttoned my blouse.

   "Well, I did, too, but I'm not as brave as they are, or you are, I
guess," mom admitted.

   My hands were shaking.  I have to admit, I was not exactly sure of this
myself, but cum stains on my clothes made me look like a total slut, I had
to admit, so I thought it might be less embarrassing to be semi-nude.  And
look at it from the point of efficiency.  By getting down to the essentials
- my panties, in this case, it was going to save a lot of dressing and
undressing as I tried things on!  And who needed a changing room, either?

   "You didn't wear a bra this morning?" Mom sounded astonished as I shed
my shirt.

   "No bra," I assured her.  I tossed my blouse in with my skirt and closed
the door.  It locked automatically, really separating me from my clothes,
unless mom clicked the un-locker on her key ring.  "Let's go." I strode off
a lot more confidently than I felt.

   Then, as we crossed the parking lot, I realized that the thing I was
most ashamed of was my tacky, very plain, somewhat baggy, utilitarian
cotton panties.

   I almost wished I'd taken them off, too.

   Almost.

   Inside, the mall was, as usual, thronging with shoppers, mostly women
and mall-rat kids, with some elderly couples and men who particularly gave
me the eye.

   I tried to ignore their gazes, walking proudly, my titties jiggling as
we headed, as usual, for the least expensive shops first.  I was conscious
of the looks I was getting, and the feeling of the air on my bared tits and
tummy.  My underpants felt confining and uncomfortable.

   A sign at the store entrance informed us that for each member of a group
that was topless the store would give 10 per cent off, 20 per cent off for
full nudity.  I wondered what they did if a party of ten came in naked,
give a rebate?

   Then I read the fine print, where it said "up to 30 per cent maximum."
Oh well, free was a bit too much to expect, I guess.  If mom went topless,
then, and I dispensed with my panties we'd get the maximum discount.

   I pointed this out to mom, and she blushed.  "Oh, I don't think so."

   Knowing we weren't likely to buy anything here anyway, I didn't push the
issue.

   If you think it's easy to find a prom dress when you're a size 0.5
(well, okay, I exaggerate, but not by much), think again!  There wasn't a
thing that would fit me in the juniors or misses sections, of course, or
the junior petites.  I needed a "midgets" section.

   Try the children's section, you say?  Children, I would like to point
out, do not usually go to homecoming dances.

   We went by Victoria's Secret just as a lark and I tried on a couple of
bras, but decided the look was not for me.  I looked, pinched, squeezed, up
thrust and in-pressed, sort of like two oranges trying to masquerade as
grapefruit or something.

   I skinned off my underpants with the intention of trying on some sexy
panties, but the saleslady pointed out that if I tried them on I had to buy
them.  Something about health regulations, apparently, so I put the lacey
dainties back.

   Mom asked if I was going to put my own panties back on.

   I looked at them distastefully.  "No," I decided, stuffing them into
mom's purse.

   "Oh my," was all mom could say as I led the way out of the shop, nude
but for my shoes and socks.

   An hour and a half later we were forced to admit that we were stumped.
The only nice dresses were so big they looked like they'd been fitted to me
by Omar the Tent Maker.  The few that fit had all the stylishness of
something worn by Minnie Mouse.

   But I did get a free soda at the food court for being nude.  As we sat
there, sipping our drinks I contemplated the situation.  When I moaned "I
have nothing to wear," I wasn't exaggerating.

   Mom ticked off shops on the mall map she'd picked up, as I answered,
"Been there, been there, been there," with monotonous regularity, stirring
my soda with the straw.

   She tossed the map down.  "Well, that is that," she said with a weary
sigh.

   We looked at each other.  I looked down at myself, naked at a table in
the food court of the biggest mall within fifty miles, people of all ages
and sexes strolling by, teenage boys giving me the eye.  I looked around.
About twenty feet away, half blocking access to the pizza counter there was
a sort of ever changing audience.  The only reason it bothered the boy
behind the counter was it blocked his view of me.

   "Maybe we could at least find you a pair of shoes," Mom suggested
hopefully.

   Three clerks tripped over each other when I entered the shoe store. 
There as a brief flurry as they flipped fingers at each other to determine
who got to wait on me.  The fake leather of the chair was cold under my
butt as I sat down wearily, toed off my loafers and pulled off my socks,
leaving myself about as naked as it is possible to get.

   Mom was walking the displays, perhaps trying to ignore the display I was
making.  I'd tried, again, to get her topless, but she'd refused.

   "May I measure your foot?" the clerk asked eagerly, dragging his little
shoe shop stool over as his compatriots looked on enviously.  "And what
kind of shoe are you looking for?"

   "Something for a fancy high school dance," I explained.  "Central High
is having its homecoming this weekend."

   "Oh, yes!" he exclaimed.  "I hear at the game the cheerleaders are going
to be nude!  I plan to be there."

   As I already am, you twit, I thought.  "Yes, so I've heard."

   Unavoidably, I gave him an intimate view of my no-longer-very-private
treasures as he took my foot and slipped the gadget under it that measured
it.  I could feel myself warming as he fondled my foot, and stared at my
crotch.

   I was getting horny!  I knew my inner petals were opening, but I
discovered I had as much control over that as Carl did over his hardon. 
Even mentally computing the powers of two up to where I was getting an
eight digit answer didn't do any good.  "Well?" I asked finally, blushing
scarlet - my face, I mean, thank you very much!.

   "Oh, you have a very small foot!  I'll have to see if we have anything
suitable in your size," he explained, reluctantly releasing my foot and
getting up to go to the stock room.

   I got up and strolled around the shop, feeling eyes tracking me as I
did.

   The air!  It was always there, touching me in places it didn't usually
touch, reminding me constantly of my nudity.  I could even feel pussy
juices drying on my crotch.  My nerve ends were more alive than I'd ever
known them to be.  Carl had described it as sensuous, and he was right.

   When the clerk finally came back with a few pairs I eyed them dubiously.
They were high, very high heels, with stack toes an inch high.  Now I don't
know much about fashion, but I have noticed that short women who wear high
heels to make themselves look taller only wind up looking foolish.

   But I sat down and let him play with my feet some more, and study my
crotch, as he slipped a pair of bright red strappy thingies on my feet.

   When I got up, I wobbled.  I tried walking, unable to avoid the feeling
that I was about to tip over one direction or another.  I am not used to
high heels.  I usually wear loafers or athletic shoes of some sort.

   These heels were so steep my feet slid down until my toes were squeezing
through the open toes like toothpaste coming out of the tube.  They forced
my foot into a position that exceeded the flex angle of my ankles, so I had
to sort of tilt back from the knees to compensate, thrusting my hips
forward to balance, so I had a hips first walk that was an open invitation
to molestation.

   Prying my feet out of them after about three steps I handed them back to
the hopeful looking clerk.  "I don't think so," I told him.  "The altitude
is about to give me a nosebleed.  Something more like this, perhaps?" I
indicated a lower heeled pump that had caught my eye.

   One of the other clerks was there in seconds with them in the right size
and eased his buddy aside, so I gave yet another show to another sales
person.  All the while my tummy was doing flip-flops at my exposure, I
admit.  This was far beyond anything I had ever dreamed I might do!

   I was surprised at how mom was taking it, though.  She never said a
word, only watched me, ready, I hoped, to leap to the defense of my honor,
what little I had left, should it be necessary.

   The shoes fit like Cinderella's slipper and I was Cinderella!  They were
sparkly, like diamonds.  I walked around in them a little bit, but it was
already a done decision.  I decided to keep them on so I had a chance to
get used to them.

   "You seem to be getting rather comfortable with this," mom observed as
we left the shop, my loafers in a plastic bag dangling from my hand.

   I waved at a kid I knew vaguely from school and he flashed me a thumbs
up sign.  "It's, well, embarrassing, but I have to admit, it's exciting,
too.  But I still don't have a dress for the dance."

   "How about your hair?" mom asked.

   "My hair?" I touched my plain-Jane brown pony tail.

   "Wouldn't you like something nice done to it?  Maybe a touch of
frosting, or a perm?"

   "Oh, I don't know." It just wasn't the kind of thing I'd ever bothered
with much, or makeup, either, for that matter.  I wasn't a femme fatale.  I
was a nerd!

   "Come on, let's have some fun," mom urged, guiding me to a beauty parlor
that took walk-ins.

   An hour later I walked out, not sure what had happened.  My hair had
been washed, conditioned and something had been done to add subtle streaks,
they said.  They'd showed mom a way to pin it up that was simple and
effective that she could do herself, but they didn't let me see the results
myself!

   "Now cosmetics," mom insisted, guiding me to a counter in a department
store where an elegant looking woman took charge of my face.

   Half an hour later we walked away with a bag full of paints and blushes
and powders and stuff.  My face had been Rembrandted into something I
wasn't sure I'd recognize, since they hadn't let me look in a mirror.  Mom
had gotten a chart that showed how to recreate the effect, since I wouldn't
want to wear it to bed tonight.

   I was still naked, of course, and I'd drawn the usual attention wherever
I went.  At the salon they'd asked if I wanted my pussy hair styled, but I
declined!

   We were heading for the car, still worrying about a dress when I was
startled by a nude woman approaching me, wearing the same sparkly shoes I
was wearing.  I stopped dead and she did, too!

   For a moment, all I could do was gape.  I raised my hand and the girl -
woman - did, too.  I touched my hair, she did, too, and I realized I was
looking at my reflection in a mirror, and blushed.

   That was me?

   "What's the matter, dear?" mom asked.

   "I look like that?" I asked.  I touched my own breast, and my reflection
touched its breast.

   "You're beautiful," mom assured me.  "You've always been beautiful."

   "No I'm not," I insisted, but my own reflection seemed to argue with me.
I was certainly different!  What if Carl didn't like this new me?

   "Look for yourself," mom pointed out.

   "Wow!" I breathed softly.

   "Let's go, dear, it's getting late and we still need to find you a
dress," mom reminded me.

   We'd gone a few yards, when I dared to voice a thought.  "Mom, do you
think..."

   At the same time, Mom started to say, "Beth, what do you think..."

   We both stopped.  "You first, ' I suggested.

   "No, you first," she countered.

   I was already telling myself to forget it.  "It's nothing," I insisted.
"What were you going to say."

   Mom hesitated.  "Well, it's a ridiculous idea, and - well, you don't
need to give it any consideration," she stammered.  "But, well, have you
thought of going to the dance - uh - in the nude?"

   I was frozen to the spot, because I'd had the same ridiculous idea. 
"Oh, no, I couldn't," I stammered.

   "You're walking around naked here," mom pointed out, as people passing
by gave me the once, twice and thrice over.

   "Well, yes, but..."

   "Well, I guess it is a silly idea," mom said, backing down.

   "Silly idea," I agreed.

   "Let's go find you a dress," mom insisted.  "Maybe the Bon Ami will have
something."

   "Maybe," I said, feeling a little pang even as I said it.

   "Still," mom said as she unlocked the car, "it's an interesting idea,
isn't it?"

   It gave me a tingle in my tummy.  "Yeah." I looked at my clothes, and
tossed them in the back seat.  The upholstery was so hot it burned my bare
butt.  I couldn't get the idea out of my mind.

   "I'll do it," I said before we were even out of the parking lot.

   "Do it?"

   "Do it," I answered confidently.  "Go naked to the dance.  After all,
Carl has to do it, and I'd be overdressed!" Then I had another thought. 
"But what about daddy?"

   Mom giggled - yes, she giggles sometimes.  I never do!  "Well, we can
just tell him you didn't have a thing to wear," she pointed out.

   I giggled.  Yes, I know, I just said I never do, but I did.

   "But for now, why don't you put something on before you cause an
accident," Mom suggested as an oncoming driver saw my bare tits and almost
drove into a pole, so at the next light I unfastened my seat belt and
turned around, flashing my bare ass at the traffic as I reached into the
back seat and grabbed my skirt and blouse, managing to struggle into them
as we drove homeward, not even bothering with my underpants.

   And that was the end of The Great Dress Hunt.