Greta’s Story: High School Senior Year
A Naked In School Tale
by Chessman

Funny, after Sam and Brenda and I returned from Gramma Kramer’s the summer quickly melted away into the new school year.

Three new things separated junior year and senior year. First I had agreed to take the work-study job with the Program, which in addition to my gardening money and my nursing home hours was putting a tidy sum away for college. My medallion, which identified me as a full time Naked In School participant, had been taken from me on the first day of senior classes. Oddly, a small stainless steel collar replaced the medallion. The collar clicked closed and was fitted with rings mounted on it front and back. Also added were locking bracelets and anklets that also had small rings mounted on them.

I had stepped up from Naked in School to Naked in Society. Apparently those who opted into Naked in Society also agreed to voluntary RESTRAINED display, besides the posing required of the student. Oopsie, this meant that at any time, any where, I could be chained or tied to a pole, fence, or wherever and put on display, and since I was now over eighteen display included use. Not just fingering or the occasional girl's tongue; nope, full public humiliation sexual use.

Sam made sure that my shots for menstruation and sexually transmitted disease were up to date; yet the little problem persisted that I was still, technically, a virgin. My hymen was gone from dildo and vibrator use, but a male organ had yet to enter me.

I asked Brenda about this, but, good church girl that she was, she hadn’t been a virgin since freshman year, and she asked if I was interested in any of the boys in school. Nope, no interest there, though some were cute enough, some were bold enough, but all of them had seen and touched me over the course of the previous year and none really set off the buzz in my vagina that would make me want to do IT with THEM.

Brenda had smiled and told me to come home with her that afternoon. I cleared it with Sam, heck, Brenda was at our place so often that Sam welcomed the 'ravenous duo' as she called us eating elsewhere for an evening.

It was there I met HIM! Michael, who was a second year college student, varsity swimmer, and Brenda’s cousin, was visiting while on his way back to his classes. OMG if I wore panties they would be soaked through just looking at him.

We bantered during dinner and Michael told of his first year at college at P-FIT where he was studying chemistry. He was trying to green the world by finding a way to break down plastics and synthetic fibers for reuse as garment and industrial textiles. To the girl sitting naked and dripping into the towel Brenda’s parents had placed on my chair, it sounded noble if unnecessary. Then I realized that fabrics were all around me from carpets to drapery to the very cloth upon the dinner table. Maybe not so unnecessary after all, I thought.

Michael was wearing sandals, baggy cargo shorts and a Hawaiian shirt. I was wearing my collar and wrist and ankle cuffs. The boy was definitely overdressed as far as I was concerned and I realized Brenda had given me Adonis for my first lover and I could not wait to unwrap him.

So my first time was with a college man who had seven of the hardest firmest most filling inches of manhood I had ever known. He knew me, as my birth parent would have put it, four times before the next morning, and as he dressed to continue his trip to college he was wobbly on his feet. Me, I walked to school looking like I’d been rode hard and put in the barn wet. Brenda giggled and smiled the entire half-mile walk from her house to the school. Sam called me into her office before first bell and took one look at me, the look that asks, “WELL?”

“His name is Michael, he is Brenda’s cousin, he’s in college and WOW was IT good!” I offered as explanation. Sam nodded and told me to hit the shower before classes and make sure what ever could drip out went down the drain and not on a chair in a class room. She spoke so blunt and so practical that my buzz abated greatly. Blunt, my dear reader, was my adopted mother’s personality.

I finished my core classes and began my first of two work-study jobs, my gardening project around the school grounds, at the same time most others in the senior class were going to lunch. Weeding, mulching and planting fall flowers and laying out the beds for the spring bulbs took me from the start of school year in the end of August straight through Halloween. The colder months stalled my first job, and brought new challenges for my second.

I was the mentor/encourager for reluctant female students entering their mandatory week of nudity in the school. While most girls didn’t mind shedding their clothes and romping about naked in WARM weather, once the chill of November set in the girls chosen for the next five months needed a deal of coaxing to try the mandated outdoor participation for sports and school activities. Before that it was dealing with zits, or bruises or the occasional period for a girl who was not on the three or six month ovulation regimen. After November 1st though, it was a series of reluctant Candy, Mandy, Mindy, Cindy, Linda, Sharon, Karen, Doreen, Maureen, and Sue naked in school candidates who OMG did not want to get hard nipples or turn blue walking around town naked.

Usually after a day or two of my escorting them they got over it and began to enjoy the fun of ‘shop ducking’ as I had dubbed it. There were a few kids who only had the mandatory community service to do outside of school grounds and they were bussed to their locations and picked back up. But the others who had a lot of school activity that was out and about in the community had to walk unless they had driver licenses and cars. Lots of spring session juniors and most seniors did have their own rides, I still had the Blue Bomber that Gramma Kramer had given me, and could have given rides to some of the girls who did not. Yet, I had been instructed to keep with the spirit of the Program and encourage public exposure within the community for the girls participating in the program’s short term required phase. To that end I invented the ‘shop duck’. I had gone ahead to the local coffee shop, hardware store, convenience store, and car dealership, all spaced about two city blocks apart from each other, and had gotten permission for any girl in the program to spend as much time as they needed in each shop to warm up during the winter.

The coffee shop offered free hot cocoa and the use of its rest room for all nude participants from November 15th through April 15th and it was a popular stop off point. The hardware store, midway between the business district and the residential area, was as far as many girls could get before they needed a warm up. Not much for a girl to see or do there but the place was always packed with do-it-yourselfers and contractors come the end of the school day, all hoping for one or two of the girls to appear. The convenience store was another potty stop and offered a snack cake or bag of chips and bottled water [room temperature] to the girls who dropped in. The auto dealer, well, Thom’s Toyota got a lot of business when men began to see naked girls behind the big glass showroom windows. Thom set it up with his sales people that if the girls showed up three times they would be eligible for a ten percent discount on any used car on his lot. Five times for fifteen percent and those of us who had opted for the full time nudity program, each appearance was worth half a percent off. With over one hundred eighty school days, by the end of the second year of the Naked In School Program Thom had given four girls their cars for ten percent of the book value. More importantly the regional manager had awarded Thom Dealer of the Year two years running, as his new car sales were vastly outpacing his competitors. His trade ins moved well also, with many girls getting their first cars from him at a significant discount.

The one downside of Thom’s was what I had to do to get him to agree to his participation. I was shackled by my restraints to his dealership sign all day one Saturday with the electronic sign above blinking,” If You Like What You See Today, Drop by during the week from 3 p.m. to 7 p.m.” He didn’t even let me break to pee. There was a puddle between my legs by the day's end. He did feed me and keep me hydrated and the day in October was fairly warm, so I didn’t suffer much more than some restraint, mild fondling, and humiliation. Oh, he did offer me a car. With the Blue Bomber titled to me I had no need for one, so thank you anyhow Thom.

Jan Thayer, the Program Administrator, had been very impressed with my initiatives and had filed a letter of commendation with the Secretary of Health Education and Welfare in Washington, D.C. under whose umbrella the Program came. Although that pleased me at the time, I tossed that pot on the back burner and simply dealt with the reluctant girls as they came to me in their rotation.

February came and I was named the annual Wassail Maiden. Before the Program started a senior girl was chosen as the Wassail Maiden, and while dressed in a forest green outfit would hand hot cider and apple sauce to passers by and lead the Wassailing dance around the ancient apple tree in front of DDEHS. Apparently the NIS Program got this tradition slightly changed. Tied to the trunk of the old apple tree on the high school grounds I spent the day being painted with apple butter, dowsed in cider, and danced around by the student body and faculty. It was cold and nasty enough while it was being painted on me, but when the senior boys began to lick the apple butter the cider and apple sauce off of me it was excruciatingly erotic. I came five times that I was aware of before the ceremony was complete. To think I don’t even like apples.

As the Student mentor I was at every sports event, every school dance, every performance of the student playhouse ('Oh! Calcutta' in the fall, 'Hair' in the spring), the music and choir concerts, and the annual Mud Bowl. Mud Bowl was the spring marching band invitational. Twelve marching bands performing on a field, which had six inches of melted muck above the still frozen ground below. Watching them trying to pull off the tricky maneuvers that fans enjoyed during the football season in the mud with slipping sliding and falling down the norm rather than the exception made Mud Bowl fun for the fan in the stand. Not so much for the musician on the field, particularly the Naked Ninjas of Dwight David Eisenhower Senior High. We were eighty-nine musicians, seven flag girls seven baton twirlers and one majorette plus the honorary senior majorette, all of us naked, and by the end of our routine it looked as if we had signed up for the mineral baths at a health spa. Did I fail to mention that the honorary majorette this year was ME? Oopsie, sorry, I thought that would have been the first thing you thought. I spent an hour in the shower cleaning parts of me where no mud should ever be allowed and still felt dirty.

The week after the Mud Bowl the second of the memorable events of my Senior Year occurred. It did not happen to me, although it had an impact upon me to my very core.

Sam brought home the evening newspaper and above the fold in bold headlines read, “FORMER LOCAL PASTOR JAILED FOR TWENTY YEARS”. As I read the article it mentioned the facts of the case, “The Reverend Doctor Stanley Delaney, formerly pastor of Community Christian Church here in town, was found guilty by a jury in [his new state of residence] for having entered the public middle school with a bull whip and whipping the students and faculty who were participating in the annual Naked In School day. Charged with twenty-seven counts of aggravated assault, Mr. Delaney railed in court as to how God’s morality superceded society’s immorality, his outbursts coming so often he was finally barred from his own trial, watching it on closed circuit television from his jail cell. It took the jury only two hours to find Mr. Delaney guilty on all charges; however, they cited guilt by reason of diminished mental capacity. Mr. Delaney shall serve his sentence in the state hospital for the criminally insane. If deemed mentally and socially rehabilitated Mr. Delaney shall be eligible for parole in fifteen years.”

I spent that night and many following snuggled next to Sam in bed, sobbing. The tears were not for the man who fathered me nor for his wife my birth mother, but for those poor kids and teachers he had scarred for life with his bull whip. I am sure there is no place in heaven for people who are so rigid in their belief system they cannot allow others to live their lives in peace as they choose.

The end of March and the beginning of April brought the Beach Volleyball season and Brenda and I were top seeds on the DDE varsity girls team. While the other schools competed in bikinis, we, as always, were naked. League rules stated school colors and a name and number must be on each player so two hours before we played the DDE team was in for body paint and air brushing by kids from the art department.

Spring break left me oddly confused. Sam wanted us to go visit Gramma Kramer on the farm. While I always enjoyed visiting Gramma, Michael was coming to Brenda’s that same week. I had sex this last year three times, all imposed upon me while I was shackled. I had not been made love to since Michael took my virginity back in late August and I was dying for some real loving.

I told Brenda about my conflict and she informed me she was about to ask if she could come to Gramma’s with Sam and me. I gave her my stupid, “HUH?” look and she laughed. It seemed that Michael was bringing his fiancée home to meet his aunt and uncle, before continuing on to meet her parents.

'Oh well, that itch would have to wait to be scratched', I thought to myself. I said, ”Sure, if Sam says okay, it’s fine with me.” Sam dropped the news that none of us would be going to Gramma’s and Gramma would be coming up here for the break week instead. It seemed that a local independent tournament sponsor had gotten wind of the newly formed Beach Volleyball High School league and wanted to stage a double elimination tournament during the break week.

The way it worked was ten schools would send teams and everyone would play each other once. The schools with the most wins would be placed in the winners bracket and would play each other until there was one team left which had beaten every other team in its bracket. The bottom bracket teams would also play each other, and every team that lost would be eliminated. The last team left in the bottom bracket would play the last team left in the top bracket for the trophy and the prize for the school they represented.

Our boys lost six of the nine matches they were in and went to the male lower bracket. Brenda and I won eight of the nine games we played and were second to Bishop Timothy Boyle Catholic Girls Academy who had won all nine of their games and who had caused our only loss.

By the time we had returned to face Boyle again we DDE girls had walked over Jefferson City, Madison High, Courtland Academy, and Deep Gorge Regional. Boyle had been similarly capable in dispatching Hannah Crest, Lundsburgh High, Wolf Mountain, and Jefferson City, the only team to get two games as they were third in the first round with seven wins, having lost only to us and Boyle.

Two p.m. Saturday afternoon on an outdoor volleyball court in bright sunshine we played the best of three sets to 15 points match for the tournament championship. The Boyle girls looked cute in their red and white bikinis. Brenda and I were naked for the glory of DDE. We fought hard but lost the first set 15-13. During the intermission with the trash talk that goes on between teams at its height, the Boyle girls came on with, “with your girl parts flopping around like that you’ll never win.” We flipped back, “Yeah, well if we take this next set, and we will, we dare you to play the third set, with all your girl parts bouncing out and about.” That was Brenda. I added, “Yep, strip down or shut up for the third set, girls.”

Did we psyche them out? I don’t know and I’ve had time to think back on that day many times. What we did do was win the second set 15-11. We looked over the net and mouthed, “Okay, pay it up and strip ‘em off.” Instead their back girl went down on the sand claiming a groin injury and they forfeited the final game, giving DDE (and Brenda and me) the tournament win, the trophy, and the school’s prize: a professionally installed four court beach volleyball set up on the DDE grounds.

Two weeks after the tournament the Honors and Sports Awards Dinner took place in the fanciest hotel in town. It was easy to tell the honors kids from the sports kids. The honors kids were all, well mostly all, clothed, and in the tradition of DDE that one wore ones team uniform to the awards banquet, most of the athletes were nude. Football, Field Hockey and Lacrosse team members were the only exceptions as they were our full contact sports and state law required uniforms for them. The girls’ field hockey team rose as one once we were seated, chanted “Naked Ninjas Rule” and joined their sisters in full naked glory. Both the boys and girls lacrosse teams followed suit, leaving only the football team with too much gear to be rid of to join us.

Well, the coaches had a surprise for me when the lettering ceremony was held. I was presented with a gold pendant and neck chain instead of the velour varsity letter, and my DDE hung proudly around my neck as it was well known I did not own a jacket or sweater for a letter to be sewn upon. Brenda was also honored with a pendant as she had once again spent the year nude. I was handed a volleyball and asked to sign it for the trophy case. After I did so I passed it to Brenda who did the same. It was the game ball from the one serve over the net to Boyle’s empty courtside that clinched our tournament championship.

I was genuinely surprised when I was announced as the winner of both the annual sportsperson of the year award and the newly created nude athlete of the year award. The shock came when the academic awards were given. I was named to the Honor Society based on my community activism, grades, and my constant affirmative mentoring of those around me. Who knew? Not me for sure.

Jan Thayer, fortyish, fit, bronzed and nude was the next faculty speaker to go to the microphone and I again heard my name called. She read a proclamation from the Secretary of Health Education and Welfare, lauding my two years of service to the Naked In School Program and issuing a full textile emancipation for me as a reward for my services. An identification bracelet, engraved USDHEW REGISTERED NUDIST on the front and with a serial number registered to me on its inner surface was presented to me along with a folder with the proclamation within it. I was now free to be clothing-free forever, if I so chose. All I needed was my bracelet.

Sam introduced me to Doctor Grace Manners, the National Vice President of Sigma Kappa Gamma sorority, just before the awards dinner. Sam said Dr. Manners was her guest at the banquet and an old friend from college. My next surprise came when Dr. Manners rose to present me with a full four-year scholarship to any college where there was a chapter of Sigma Kappa Gamma. I had five applications out to universities and was slated to visit them over the next week with Sam. I had wondered why Sam had insisted I apply to these schools and now I realized each had an active SKG chapter. Sam had been working in my behalf and behind my back on this for several months.

Sam and I ran into some difficulties during our college visitation tours. Seniors visiting colleges were under the same restrictions as though they were on school grounds during normal school hours. This meant that I was wearing my collar and wrist and ankle cuffs when we arrived at Cortland College. The security patrol at the gate would not allow us on campus unless I was properly attired. Sam tried to explain, as did the SKG chapter president, but the College administration sent the Assistant Dean of Discipline to the gate who read us the official stance of the campus. Basically, they tolerated SKG girls being nude in their own house because the fraternity and sorority houses were considered private property, not school grounds. They would not allow or tolerate nudity anywhere else on campus, even if such was required of the person currently nude. Sam and I thanked the SKG girls and said no thanks to Cortland College.

Uplands University gave us much the same spiel and we deemed it not worth our time or effort. Edson College was accepting of my current state of nudity but would require I be clothed on campus should I take their offer of admission for the fall semester.

Philadelphia Fashion Industries Technical University, P-FIT, opened its doors widely for us, accepted me as a perfect fit, explaining that many artists and classes used nude models around campus and it was not unusual on any given day to see a girl or a guy walking about nude while artists and photographers worked out lighting and background scenery. The girl showing us about, another SKG sister, explained she had finished her semester as Life Style Model at the end of school in May but was perfectly willing to strip off and show me the campus nude, if it would make me feel more comfortable. She offered Sam the same opportunity as a graduated SKG sister had the same on campus privileges as one still in school. So the three of us left the SKG house nude, toured the campus, met the professors, advisors and students, and before the end of the day I had signed the letter of intent to attend P-FIT and play varsity beach volleyball for them.

Graduation day came all too quickly after that. I heard my name called, stood and walked down the aisle for my diploma wearing my mortarboard cap, my honor society stole, my registered nudist ID bracelet and my DDE varsity lavaliere. I crossed the stage and flashes from many cameras went off. Waving my diploma over my head I skipped back to my seat. I thought I saw my birth mother in the rear of the auditorium, only briefly, and when I looked back she was gone, if she’d been there at all. Sam and Gramma tossed me a huge party for my school friends and another when we arrived on the farm for my last summer there before college.

The End