Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Carl Naked in School 7/15 (mFfg exhib mast spank)

   Wednesday Morning

   The next morning, standing there in my room after my shower, I looked at
the school clothes I'd set out, wondering what I'd been thinking of.  There
they were; underwear, socks, white short sleeved shirt, khaki pants today,
instead of jeans.

   Why in the world had I bothered?  Once I got to the school door they all
had to come off.

   Then I heard Mom calling me to breakfast, and reached for my underpants
- and dropped them.  I'd deal with the clothes problem after I ate.  I
trotted downstairs naked, my dick flopping about as I entered the kitchen.

   "Ouch!" mom yelped.

   The chair at the kitchen table was cold under my butt.  "You okay, Mom?"


   She was running cold water over her hand.  "Oh, I just burned myself. 
Nothing serious," she assured me.  "You startled me!  I didn't expect to
see you - like that!"

   "Is it okay?" I asked, reaching for some toast.  "I was going to dress
after breakfast."

   "It's okay.  You just startled me.  It's going to take awhile for me to
get used to this."

   "Sorry," I apologized through a mouth of toast, starting to get up. 
"I'll go...."

   "No!" she answered a little sharply.  "No, don't.  I need to get used to
it." She nibbled her lip.  "This program is for all of us."

   "Good morning!" Sis greeted us cheerily.  "Nice outfit," she teased me.
She was kind of dolled up this morning - white blouse, nice skirt, knee
socks, a pretty bow in her hair and even a touch of lipstick, which was
rare.

   I winked at Mom.  Sis seemed to take my nudity in stride this morning.
"You look nice yourself," I complimented her.  "What's the occasion?"

   She shrugged.  "Nothing special.  I just felt like it."

   "Drink your juice," Mom ordered, dishing out the scrambled eggs.  "And
eat up, both of you, or you're going to be late.  As will I if I don't get
out of here right now." She shoveled down her breakfast, gave us each a hug
and peck and gathered up her things and was gone like a whirlwind.

   Sis and I ate in silence for a few minutes, neither of us being morning
people.  Then a horn honked outside.

   "There's my bus!  Shit!" She scrambled for her books.

   "Where's your quarter?" I asked.  Mom's real strict about bad language.
When one of us says the "s" word or the "f" word we have to drop a quarter
in a jar on the counter.  I think she'd contributed as much as Dee and I
had lately.  Pretty soon we'd have enough to go to the movies.

   "I'll pay this afternoon." Sis gave me a quick peck on the cheek, her
hand hot on my thigh as she leaned on it.  "Better hurry!"

   I checked the clock.  "I've got time.  See you this afternoon."

   Silence fell and I took a deep breath, then shuttled the dishes to the
sink before hurrying upstairs.

   One look at all those clothes and I shook my head, knowing I was going
to have to pedal like hell as it was.  I practically jumped into my gym
shorts (no underpants - why bother?) and threw on a tee shirt.  Socks and
loafers completed the process of dressing for school.  My pencils, house
key and stuff went in my book bag.  Then I was out the door and on my bike.


   As I swooped down the driveway and out on the street I felt air blowing
up the open legs of my shorts, swirling around my dick and balls.  My cock
began to swell from the unfamiliar sensation.

   The faster I pedaled, the more my dick grew, encouraged by the wind and
the friction of its unfettered motion against my thigh and shorts.  I
glanced down; it was like a rod against my thigh, the head creeping
downward with every pump of the pedals.  By the time I was half a block
from school the head was sticking out, catching the wind.

   I leaped off my bike, slammed it into the rack and locked it, then took
off around the building to where I was supposed to undress, hoping the
girls had gone in already.

   Oh, man.  There was a mob!  And there were the cheerleaders!  In
uniform, pompoms and all!  And Peggy Schwartz, with her camera, to take
pictures!

   They burst into a cheer the moment they saw me, doing their little dance
and pomming their poms, or whatever that is they do with them.

   "Yay Carl!  He's our man!  If he can't do it, no one can!"

   Blushing furiously, I skidded to a stop by the box.

   "Better hurry, Carl, or you'll be late," Peggy urged, snapping pictures.


   "C'mon, guys!" I pleaded as the cheerleaders shook their butts at me in
one of their routines.  Then they whirled around and leaped into the air,
and I swear, two of them weren't wearing panties!

   "Remember the rules, Carl," Peggy reminded me.  "And try to smile!"

   I shook my head, beaten.  She was right.  And anyway, she was such a
perky little button, it wasn't possible to get mad at her.  I dropped my
book bag and started to peel off my T shirt.

   "Yah dah dah, dah da da daaah.  Yah dah dah, da da da dahh," the
cheerleaders trumpeted, the old tune from that movie "The Stripper." They
danced and waved their pompoms in time to the music.

   So, I wiggled, and squirmed like I thought maybe a stripper would wiggle
and squirm, peeling the shirt off and whirling it over my head while Peggy
snapped pictures.  I tried to flip it over her camera lens, but she dodged
and went right on snapping as I hooked my thumbs into the waist of my
shorts.

   There wasn't any secret about what I had inside them.  My hardon was
like a tent pole.  Dragging the shorts down, I let my cock spring free.  I
was able to step right out of them without taking my shoes off.

   "No underwear!" the cheerleaders shrieked.  "Yay, Carl!"

   "There it is ladies!" Daringly, I wrapped my hand around my dork and
waggled it at them, twirling my shorts on my other hand.

   You would have thought a rock star had shown up the way the girls
screamed.

   Then the bell rang and I had to head inside, much to my relief, pursued
by the cheerleaders and Peggy, still snapping pictures.  When I stopped at
my locker I think half the girls going by took the opportunity to smack my
bare ass as they scampered past.  By the time they were done I felt like I
had a sunburn back there, and a hardon ready to explode.

   Then it was Freschetti crowding me, practically shoving me into my
locker.  The steel door was like ice against my already heated tail and I
let out a whoop.

   "You and me, dork.  Behind the equipment shed.  Three o'clock."

   "I've got science club," I pleaded, trying to squirm away and failing.

   "Three o'clock, dork," he repeated ominously, leaning closer.

   "Mr.  Freschetti." Miss Mitchell's voice was as cold and hard as the
steel door of the locker trying to wedge its way up the crack of my ass.

   "Shit!" Freschetti muttered, backing off.

   "I'm pleased to see you taking such an interest in Mr.  Walker's
project," Miss Mitchell went on.  "Perhaps you'd like to join him?  Don't
hurry away, Mr.  Walker."

   I froze.

   "Has he been bothering you, Mr.  Walker?"

   "Uh, no Miss Mitchell," I lied, sweating, not about to rat on this
gorilla, no matter what.

   "Hmmm." Obviously she didn't believe me, but decided not to challenge me
on it.  "If there should be the slightest incident of harassment from you,
Mr.  Freschetti, you will join Mr.  Walker in dispensing with clothes for
the rest of this week, and all of next week."

   "Yes'm," he agreed meekly.

   "And, if you are not suspended, you will be forced to play in Saturday's
game wearing only your protective garments.  Is that clear, Mr. 
Freschetti?"

   He blanched.  "Yes'm."

   "Now, get to class before you're later than you already are." She
watched him hurry away and then turned to me.  "Are you sure he's not been
bothering you?"

   "Yes'm," I insisted.

   "Hmmm," she murmured again, looking down at me.  All my apparatus looked
like it was trying to crawl up inside me for safety.  "It's amazing what
fear can reduce a man to." She reached down and stroked my terror shriveled
penis and it sprang to attention.

   She stroked its underside again, slowly, and it wept with joy.  "Please
stop by my office during lunch, Mr.  Walker."

   "Yes'm."

   Then she turned business-like.  "And, if there is any more trouble with
Mr.  Freschetti or any of his associates, I want you to tell me about it
immediately.  That, too, is part of the program, remember.  Harassment of
any kind will not be tolerated."

   "Yes'm," I agreed dutifully, turning to go, hoping it wouldn't come up.

   "You're doing well, Mr.  Walker.  Keep it up," she called after me.

   Keep it up?  I couldn't manage to keep it down!  "Yes'm," I answered,
hurrying away, wondering what lunch time at her office would bring.

   I found out shortly after knocking on her office door and being invited
in, closing it behind me at her request.  She was in "severe" mode, by the
looks of it.  Her starched blouse barely bent over her small breasts.

   She studied me, from head to toe, and I felt a blush rising.  As usual,
I had a hardon, though not one of the hardest.

   She drummed her fingers on her big, polished desk.  "I have a problem,
Mr.  Walker."

   "Yes'm?"

   "You have not been truthful with me," she went on.

   I prickled with sweat at the accusation.  Lying was a clause in the
school honor code that had stiff penalties.

   "I know that this morning was not the first encounter you have had with
Mr.  Freschetti.  Miss Gallison reported an incident outside the lunchroom
between the two of you yesterday."

   "It wasn't anything," I argued.

   "He threatened you," Miss Mitchell answered bluntly.  "Then, again this
morning, he was threatening you.  Wasn't he, Mr.  Walker?"

   I hung my head.  "Yes'm," I admitted miserably.  "But...."

   "You lied to me, didn't you, Mr.  Walker?"

   "Yes'm." I nodded.

   Her fingers drummed on the desktop.  "I understand your motives, Mr. 
Walker.  I was young once, too, you know.  I know what peer pressure can be
like.  You were afraid of retaliation, of ostracism if you tattled on him,
weren't you?"

   "Yes'm." What could I say?  Freschetti or someone of his gang, most of
them football jocks, would have pounded me if I'd ratted him out.  To say
nothing of how the rest of the school would have reacted to having our best
halfback benched.

   "Never-the-less, that does not mitigate your violation of the Honor
Code, Mr.  Walker."

   "No'm," I agreed, waiting for the ax to fall.

   "You present me with a difficult choice, Mr.  Walker.  Normally, that
would be cause for immediate, summary suspension, would it not?"

   "Yes'm."

   "But that would interrupt your academics, and disrupt the program you
are currently engaged in as well," she pointed out "I would regret that
happening, and we'd have to start all over again next week, as well."

   I thought of another week of nudity and shivered.  I mean, yeah, I was
getting kind of used to it, but still, it wasn't something I was anxious to
carry on any longer than I had to.

   "So, I want to propose an alternative."

   I perked up.  "Yes'm?"

   "Corporal punishment."

   "Corporal punishment?"

   "A spanking, Mr.  Walker."

   "A ...  spanking?" My voice cracked.

   "A spanking." She was silent a moment.  "It's your choice," she added.

   I gulped, weighing the alternatives.  I could endure another week of
walking the halls and taking classes naked, or get my butt tanned by Miss
Mitchell.  I am not big on pain.  On the other hand, something about a
spanking - I felt my dick stiffen at the though of bending over Miss
Mitchell's lap, of her hand smacking my bare ass.

   Besides, it would only hurt for a few minutes.

   "Uh, I guess the spanking," I answered reluctantly.

   Was there a twinkle in her eye?  A flush on her cheek?  "As you wish,
Mr. Walker." Opening a drawer on her desk, she pulled out a ping pong
paddle!  "This way, please," she ordered, rounding her desk and heading for
the door.

   Then I remembered.  Paddlings were given in public!

   Numb, I followed her out the door, into the halls crowded with students
heading away from the lunchroom.  At her order, I bent over, resting my
hands on my knees.  I didn't need to look.  I could sense the crowd
gathering.

   "Mr.  Walker lied to a faculty member," Miss Mitchell announced clearly.
"The penalty he has chosen is corporal punishment, six strokes with the
paddle."

   The first one landed on the right cheek of my ass and I almost fell on
my face as my butt burst into flame.  Already it had been warmed by the
girls that morning, and now it was getting blistered!

   Clenching my teeth, I squeezed my eyes shut in an effort to keep the
tears from coming.  The next swat hit my left cheek.  The rest followed
quickly, alternating, three on each side of my butt.

   I was gasping.

   My tail was burning.

   I was horny as a goat!

   I straightened up, trying not to rub my blazing backside, blinking back
tears.  "Thank you, Miss Mitchell."

   "On your way, Mr.  Walker."

   My rigid cock leading the way, I almost ran to gym class, barely pausing
in the girl's locker room to shed my shoes and socks.  The girls were
flooding in.  Some of them having just witnessed my punishment, giggled and
pointed at my butt, which felt like it had been set on fire.

   We were directed to the pool, and I looked forward to cooling my tail in
the water, but first I needed to take care of something else.  I asked
Coach for time for relief.  "Stephanie, will you help me, please?"

   She blinked, and her plump cheeks pinked up, but she stepped forward
even as some of the more svelte girls rolled their eyes and looked at each
other.

   "Are you sure you want me?" she asked softly.

   I nodded.  "Positive.  Just wrap your hand around it, and pump."

   She did, and worked it like it like a lever, instead of stroking it.

   "No, this way," I explained to the titters of the other girls, and some
guffaws from the boys.  Putting my hand on hers, I showed her how to stroke
my hardon.

   "It's hot, and hard," she whispered, catching on quickly, my juices
surging.

   "Can I - touch your breast?" I asked.  She was wearing the usual tank
suit, nylon or something, thin as onion skin, molded to her - uh - robust
curves.

   "Uh - I guess so, if you want to."

   "I really do!" I assured her, brushing my fingers over her tit, her
nipple stiffening sharply from the light touch.  Then I curled my hand
around her lush, warm breast, feeling its weight, its warmth, its softness.


   "Ahhh, don't stop," I pleaded as my groin went into joyous convulsions,
hot spurts of cum jetting to spatter on her thigh and the pool deck.  "Oh,
that is sooo goooood," I assured her as my spurtings declined to a last few
pulsations.  "Thank you!"

   Stephanie giggled, wiping her hand on her thigh as she did.  "Sticky,"
she observed, embarrassed.

   "It's all right," I assured her.  "It washes right off."

   Coach blew his whistle.  "All right, show and tell is over.  Everyone
into the pool for some water polo."

   Before she could move away, I took Stephanie's still sticky hand, led
her to the edge of the pool, and dragged her in with me.  We hit the water
with a whoop and splashed each other gleefully as the cool water sluiced
away my semen, and soothed my still burning ass.

   She gave me a peck on the cheek.  "Thank you!" she whispered, her body
soft and warm against mine as we treaded water.  "That felt good, when you
touched me!"

   "It was my pleasure," I assured her, meaning every word of it.  We
laughed together.