Pantsing and Stripping Forums

A/N: With the encouragement of a certain princess, I've agreed to give the hazing topic another shot. Usual disclaimers, all characters are 18+, story involves elements of coercion, but is ultimately intended to be consensual.

Now me personally, I like the protagonist. She seems nice and I would never wish for something incredibly embarrassing to happen to her . But unfortunately for our heroine, I'm not the one making the decisions. I can only wish her the best of luck surviving her initiation with the captain.

Story edited on 1/7/23 for clarity and style.

Part 1

My name is Kelsi. I’m a college freshman and I’m trying out for the swim team. Of course, when I texted my friend, Sophia, she was like, really? You’re trying out for the swim team? She didn’t believe me.

Well, to understand her reaction, you have to understand something about me. I’m really shy about my body. In high school, while the other girls would change in the locker room for gym, I would always do so privately in the bathroom stall. And I never even considered taking a shower there. I would wait until I got home no matter how sweaty or dirty I was, which Sophia would frequently point out was completely ridiculous. One time, she just stripped off her top in the middle of the locker room and said, look Kelsi, I’m topless, no one cares. But despite her attempts to help me get over my body shyness, I never did.

I’m just shy, okay? I’m not the type of girl that wears crop tops, short-shorts, or tank tops during the summer. I’d much rather wear something comfy like a t-shirt and jeans or a cute sundress. And there is nothing wrong with that.

Unbeknownst to Sophia, though, I faced my fears about wearing a swimsuit in public. I’ve been practicing all summer. When I got my acceptance letter to UofT and found out that they had a swim program, I made up my mind that I was going to make the team. I didn't want to be one of those girls that did nothing but study in college. I wanted memories, friends, to have the true college experience. I’m spunky, social, and outgoing, and I want to cherish the memories of my youth. I want to make lots of connections and be a part of something bigger than myself. To hear my teammates’ cries of joy as I finish my race, to hear them cheer and shout, you did it, Kelsi!

It also doesn’t hurt that anyone that makes the varsity team is pretty much guaranteed a full scholarship. That's just a minor detail, though.

Well, anyways, here I am, trying out for the swim team. I'm standing on the diving platform wearing a conservative one-piece swimsuit. I’m about to compete in my first swim trial. It’s a large, Olympic-style pool, and I can practically smell the chlorine even from up here. It’s the type of massive pool you would expect from a school that has an elite swim team with dozens of trophies and accolades. Right now, I'm acutely aware of the sound of my own heartbeat.

Everyone is staring at me. They're surely checking out every curve of my body. I feel self conscious, but I try to clear my head. Focus on the task at hand, Kelsi. I hear the whistle blow and I dive. I hardly notice the cold, piercing water as I plunge head first into the pool. My heart pounding, I dolphin kick my way to the surface and reach forward with broad, powerful strokes. My fears and insecurities disappear and the only thing I can think about is executing the technique I’ve practiced so many times.

My arms and legs ache as I finish my fourth lap and touch the wall. As I climb up the ladder, my legs quiver and feel like jelly. I really gave it my all. Even if I didn’t make it, I'm proud of myself. I grab a towel and take a seat next to the other girls.

“Wow, that was a great time. Were you on the swim team in high school? My name’s Julie, by the way,” Julie says.

Julie has olive skin and wears a tighter, less conservative one-piece with a slightly lower neckline that reveals a hint of her bust.

“I’m Kelsi. And no, I wasn’t, but I’ve been practicing all summer. I really want to join the team. I’m crossing my fingers,” I say.

I like Julie. She’s really friendly and I could always use more friends.

“Girl, you’ve got nothing to worry about. I’ve known girls that have been swimming for years that aren’t as fast as you. You must be a really hard worker,” Julie says. I smile and feel optimistic.

Time flies and I hear the final whistle blow. Charlotte, the swim captain, approaches us. She’s a tall, gorgeous blonde who looks more like she belongs on the cover of Sports Illustrated than being in charge of a college swim team.

“Good job, everyone, and thanks for trying out for the U of T swim team. Your results will be posted tomorrow at noon on Oasis.” She seems nice, I think. “You can GO now, people. Trials over.” Okay, maybe not that nice.

I start to get up and leave.

“No, you three stay here. I want to talk to you.”

I wait as everyone makes their leave except me, Julie, and a girl I've never met. Soon enough, it’s just the three of us and Charlotte.

“Name?” Charlotte asks me.

“Kelsi,” I squeak.

“Kelsi, I’m impressed. You’re fast, but your form needs work. You have a lot of power, and with the right technique, you could have a real shot at making varsity in a year or two,” Charlotte says.

Wow. I'm beaming. She noticed my hard work and I'm overjoyed, but my moment in the sun lasts mere seconds. Julie announces her name next.

“Julie, I can tell you had a coach that knew what they were doing. Your technique is excellent, but you’re not reaching your full potential. I want you to really hit the gym and develop those muscles. I want to see more power out there, got it?” Charlotte says.

“Yes, ma’am,” Julie yelps.

"Isabella."

Isabella is tall and proud with a boyish figure. She’s what I imagine when I think of a girl heading to the Olympics. She’s completely ripped and she's not shy to let everyone know. I can tell because she’s the only one ballsy enough to come to the meet in a two-piece.

“Isabella, you’re the real deal. Good technique, strong conditioning. Work hard this year. You have what it takes to make the team. But check the attitude. The next time you show up to one of my swim meets in a bikini, you can swim your laps in the nude, got it? Wear a competitive suit. It’s not a suggestion,” Charlotte says.

Isabella gives a curt nod.

I’m wondering what the point of her telling us all this is. Is she letting us down easy and asking us to try again next semester? She said the results wouldn't be posted until tomorrow. The anticipation is suffocating. After a long pause, Charlotte gives us all one more good look up and down.

“Congratulations. You three made the team. I want to see you back here tonight in the locker room at 8:00pm after the pool closes for a team initiation. Don’t be late!” Charlotte doesn’t give any further explanation.

We all kind of stand there awkwardly for a few moments until Charlotte says, “What are you waiting for? Skedaddle!”

She doesn’t have to tell me twice. This is going to be an interesting year, I think. Charlotte seems tough, but fair. She seems like the kind of person that gives you a hard time, but it’s to bring out the best in you. I’m going to work hard for her.

I think there are plenty of good hazing activities in her future.

/Phil

Part 2

Of course, I’m beaming with pride that I made the team. I didn’t last five minutes before I texted Sophia everything that happened. Now keep in mind, Sophia is still coming to terms with the idea of me willingly putting on a swim suit. I’d honestly pay good money to see her eyes pop out when I said I made the team. Shut the door, girl, she texted back. You voluntarily put a swim suit on AND you made the team? Yes, I made the team. It’s not that surprising. You know I’ve always been good at sports. She tells me to send her proof or she’ll never believe me.

Despite what it looks like, this is Sophia’s way of saying she’s proud of me. It’s just not her personality to get all lovey-dovey. She doesn’t have to say anything. I know what she means. Nevertheless, I opted not to get her input on this mysterious initiation. I can only imagine the bombardment of questions to which I obviously have no answers to. All I know is, Charlotte said don’t be late, and attending the initiation sounds about as optional as the suit regulations.

It’s 7:50 p.m., and as you might have guessed, I’m in the girl’s locker room. I actually ended up getting here a little early and I realize that I'm alone, but I don't have to wait wait long until I see Julia and Isabella. I almost don’t recognize them in their everyday clothes, as until now, I’d only seen them in suits and caps. I check out Julie first, whose most striking feature is her gorgeous, chest-length brown hair. She’s wearing a chic button-up blouse, white blazer, and casual jeans. Her outfit says, I’m elegant, but I know how to let my hair down. Isabella on the other hand comes off more like a tomboy in a motorcycle gang. She has short, platinum blonde hair and a variety of piercings in her ears. She’s wearing shiny leather pants and a crop top, which shows off what is likely her most prized feature. She’s ripped, okay? I’m trying to say she’s got a six-pack.

“Hey, Kelsi. Glad you made it! Nervous?” Julie asks.

“Of course,” I say. “Aren’t you? Charlotte seemed pretty tight-lipped about this.”

“I’m sure it’s just an ice breaker to introduce us to the team,” Julie replies optimistically. “Don’t worry.”

Julie’s smile puts me at ease.

“Doubt that,” Isabella replies coldly. “I bet they’re going to haze us.”

“Hazing is illegal,” Julie says matter-of-factly.

“That’s why they don’t tell you about it ahead of time, Nancy Drew,” Isabella replies.

“But it’s against the rules. They can’t do that,” I argue. “Any organization caught hazing is subject to penalties and possible disbandment.”

I know this because there was a big scandal about hazing only a few years ago. It was all over the news. Surely Isabella is wrong. There’s no way such a prestigious swim team would risk everything for a stupid hazing tradition. But Isabella shrugs and doesn’t reply. Before I can say anything else, the doors burst open and I see the swim captain confidently stroll in with a group of five or six senior girls following closely behind her.

“Let’s get this party started ladies,” Charlotte says with a powerful, booming voice that echoes through the locker room. “Are you ready to join the team, Kelsi?”

She steps up to me, her voluptuous chest coming right up to my face, the difference in our height stark.

“I’m ready, Charlotte,” I nervously squeak.

“I’m ready, Charlotte,” Charlotte mocks. “It’s Captain. Remember it, freshman, or you’ll be swimming penalty laps with Isabella.”

I make a mental note. Got it, Captain.

“Now let’s try again,” the Captain shouts in a booming voice, “Are you girls ready to join the team?”

“I’m ready, Captain!” the three of us reply in unison.

“Perfect. Looks like we’ve got a great group this year, don’t we girls?”

The senior girls fill the room with giggling and laughter and they all confirm, yes, we look like a good group.

“They’re so cute. Oh, to be a first-year again,” one of the senior girls says with a whimsical sigh.

“Now listen up, kids. You’re here because you impressed me, and I don’t say that lightly. With hard work and my training, I have no doubt, you’ll make the school proud. But before we make your status official, I’m going to need one more thing from you,” the Captain says.

I start to get knots in my stomach. I’m starting to think maybe Isabella was right.

“Oh, don’t look so glum, Kelsi,” the Captain continues. My legs quiver. “We’re here to have some fun and break the ice. We’re going to do a team bonding exercise.”

Oh, that doesn’t sound so bad.

“So, get yourselves ready, because you’re about to compete in the annual UofT Swim Team’s Sexy Banana Eating Contest!” the Captain shouts.

Uh, what? Honestly, if that’s not the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.

“A sexy banana eating contest?” Julie says deadpan, and I echo her sentiment, but her words are drowned out by the cheering of the senior girls.

Woohoo, yeah baby, I love this contest, can’t wait to see what these girls can do, my favorite event of the year! I see them excitedly pointing at us and I get the impression they’re making bets on who they think will win the contest. Or lose it. Well, honestly, when I heard Isabella talking earlier, I was thinking of something worse than this. Like, okay, I’m not exactly enthused about eating a banana all sexy-like, but when I hear the word hazing, I think of things like streaking or knocking on the doors of strangers in my underwear.

“Now before you get up on that podium and try to half ass it, I’d like to strongly encourage you to treat this exercise as seriously as any other swim meet. But in case my warning isn’t enough, as an extra incentive, whoever gets voted as the worst sexy banana eater will be tickled mercilessly by my lovely compatriots here,” Charlotte says.

I can see the delightful glee in the eyes of the senior girls and I’m starting to get cold feet.

“Aren’t you taking this a little far, Captain? Tickling?” I squeak, and I immediately regret my outburst as I come face-to-chest with the Captain again.

“Doors right there, freshman. You can leave at any time. But if you want to be a part of the team, you must bond.”

As much as I want to skedaddle the heck out of here, my legs don’t budge an inch. I’ve worked too hard for this. I make up my mind to make this the sexiest damn banana I’ve ever eaten. I really don’t want to lose this contest. And I hope Julie doesn’t lose, either. Sorry, Isabella.

“Oh, and just so we’re clear, our little contest loser will have their hands tied to the ceiling. Just a precaution, just a precaution. Can’t have another incident like we did with Lisa. Anyways, I assume you you’re all fine with this?” the Captain asks.

The silence in the room is deafening. You could hear a pin drop.

“Glad we’re all on the same page, girls,” booms the Captain cheerfully. “Stacy, go ahead and tell the boys it’s time to get started.” The Captain rolls her eyes. “Oh, don’t look so surprised. We’re not lesbians. It’s not like we can judge how sexy you’re eating a banana.” The Captain briefly glances at Stacy. “Well, most of us, anyway.”

THE BOYS?

TheBlushingPrincess wrote: ↑Mon Dec 12, 2022 10:02 pm

MissAriel wrote: ↑Mon Dec 12, 2022 9:50 pm “Stacy, go ahead and tell the boys it’s time to get started.”

Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no. Okay. Fuck. I can do this. As long as there's nobody I know. I can do this. I can do this...

Yeah, I'm sure you're fine! It's not like you know anyone on the swim team. I mean... except maaaaybe Sean, the sexy guy from orientation? Do you know him?

love it can't wait for more

TheBlushingPrincess wrote: ↑Mon Dec 12, 2022 10:41 pm

MissAriel wrote: ↑Mon Dec 12, 2022 10:16 pm

TheBlushingPrincess wrote: ↑Mon Dec 12, 2022 10:02 pm

Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no. Okay. Fuck. I can do this. As long as there's nobody I know. I can do this. I can do this...

Yeah, I'm sure you're fine! It's not like you know anyone on the swim team. I mean... except maaaaybe Sean, the sexy guy from orientation? Do you know him?

You wouldn't! You absolutely wouldn't!!!

Hey, hey, hold your horses! Me and Jennifer have nothing to do with this. I haven't done *anything* to sweet, loveable Kelsi. Take your complaints up with the captain.

Part 3

The doors bust open with a loud clang and the boys confidently march in wearing nothing but speedos. I have to tell you, if it weren’t for the fact that I’m about to sexily eat a banana in a desperate attempt to avoid a fate worse than death, I might be enjoying the show. I mean, damn. The boys swim team looks hot. But my admiration is cut short when I notice that MORE OF THEM ARE STILL COMING IN. Did she invite the entire fucking swim team? Pardon my language, I don’t usually curse, but seriously, what the hell?

There must be at least 15 guys in here about to watch our contest, and I’m struggling to control my inner conflict. Hot boys, risk of imminent death by tickling... but hot boys! Risk of imminent death by tickling. Okay, don’t judge me, I’m being perfectly reasonable considering the circumstances.

Look at the bright side, at least I don’t recognize any of them, right? Oh no. Did one of those guys just wink at me? He has sexy, blonde, wavy hair and dreamy blue eyes. Wait a minute. Is that...? Oh. My. God. Sean from English class? The boy I’m crushing on? Seriously?

Maybe he doesn’t recognize me. I close my eyes and pray to all that is holy, please don’t recognize me, please don’t recognize me, please don’t recognize me.

“Kelsi, is that you? You made the team? Far out!” Sean says.

Fuck. Okay, I know drop/add ended yesterday, but maybe it’s not too late to request a transfer, on account of the fact that I am going to die if I have to see Sean nearly every day for the rest of the year.

Unfortunately, I don’t have too much time to dwell on the politics of transferring classes. The Captain gets started on another one of her speeches.

“All right, ladies, it’s time to begin the amazing, the awesome, the astonishing and astounding, Sexy! Banana! Eating! Contest! Is everyone excited?”

I hear the boys cheering, hooting, and hollering. Excitement fills the room.

“I can’t hear you!” the Captain shouts.

This time, the Captain is so loud, I think even the people in the gym next door can hear her through the solid brick wall.

“ARE YOU GUYS EXCITED?” the Captain asks again.

The guys give the Captain a real good hoot and cheer this time. It’s like I’m at a football game. I hate football.

“Before we start, phones, phones, give me your phones. Let’s go people, any phones, put them here,” the Captain says.

The senior girls all dump their phones in a laundry basket on command, followed by Julie, Isabella, and I.

“I’d ask for the phones from the guys, but I don’t think that’s a phone in their pockets,” the Captain continues.

The senior girls break down giggling at the Captain’s joke, but there is nothing funny about this situation to me. I can’t believe that of all the people that could be on the boy’s swim team, it’s Sean, my biggest college crush. Why, cruel world, do you torment me so?

“I think it goes without saying, but if I find any one of you so much as takes a photo of the bench in here, you’ll never swim again. What happens in swim team stays in swim team. Got it?” the Captain asks.

You’d have to have bigger balls than any of the guys here to argue with the Captain, that’s for sure. Again, could hear a pin drop.

“All right, Isabella, you’re up," the Captain says.

The Captain hands Isabella a ripe, yellow banana, and urges her toward the makeshift podium set up for the contest. The guys are all sitting on the benches in the back like a jury, ready to judge every aspect of her performance. I hope she sucks. No, not like that, I mean, I hope she’s bad. I really don’t like being tickled, okay? And if Isabella has to get her hands strung up to the ceiling and tickled until she’s begging for mercy so I don't have to, well, that’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.

But she doesn’t suck. Or, well, she does. Ugh, I’m never going to be able to use that word again, am I? Isabella looks straight into the eyes of the jury as she slowly peels down the banana and puts her tongue at the base. She licks slowly upward and gives these incredible fuck-me eyes, and I can now hear cheering from both the girls and the guys.

“Damn, girl, wish that was my banana!” a guy yells out.

“Great technique, Bella,” I hear Stacy cheer. “I’d love to get a lesson or two!”

She continues licking the banana all sexy before putting half of it in her mouth and slowly sliding it in and out.

“She gonna make that banana come,” a member of the jury shouts.

When Isabella is done, she gets a huge round of applause from the guys with plenty of 8s and 9s being thrown out. They loved it. The next person is going to have a tough act to follow.

“Go on, Julie,” the Captain says.

She hands Julie another big, ripe banana and pushes her towards the podium. Now, I have to tell you, up until now, my impression of Julie is that she’s from a kind of well-to-do family, and I just can’t imagine prim and proper Julie sexily eating a banana. Well, my opinion counts for nothing, because I kid you not, by the end of her performance, I’m convinced she could run a seminar for dick -- err, I mean, banana eating.

Julie starts by unbuttoning her blouse, revealing a sizable amount of cleavage, and she starts rubbing the banana up and down her chest. The guys on the jury are practically jumping out of their seats with excitement.

“Guys, I wish I was a banana right now," a jury member yells.

“Fa 'sho, bro," another jury member shouts.

When Julie is finally done squeezing the banana between her chest, she unpeels it ever so slowly and teases the tip with her tongue. She gives just the tiniest hint of a lick before pulling away. She lightly teases the banana with the expertise of an accomplished seductress before finally putting, I kid you not, the banana in its entirety in her mouth, and she starts moving it with a back-and-forth motion. The guys cheer even louder than they did for Isabella. Me, I’m in shock. I never would have guessed Isabella could do that just by looking at her. I have a lot to learn about people, I guess. When Isabella finishes, the guys give her a standing ovation and I hear lots of 9s being thrown out.

Well, I’m in trouble. Maybe the tickling won’t last that long? I don’t have time to contemplate this before the Captain shoves a banana in my hand and pushes me toward the stage. Here I am for my big sexy banana eating debut. This is sure to go swimmingly.

Let’s get this over with. I peel the banana down, and after some moments, I muster up the courage to start licking it. I decide to take a number out of Isabella’s book and I attempt to look at the jury with a sultry, sexy gaze. However, I'm startled, because rather than seeing the smiling faces of horny boys on the swim team, my college crush, Sean, is staring directly into my eyes. Oh. My. God. I’m so embarrassed, I could just die right here. But I know the consequences. I keep licking the banana like my life depends on it. I think my performance is sure to go down in the history books as the worst performance ever in the Sexy Banana Eating Contest, but to my surprise, the guys go positively wild.

“She’s so shy. Fuck, that’s hot,” one guy yells.

“Damn, girl, you can practice on my banana any time,” another guy shouts.

I’m actually encouraged by all massive cheering I hear from the jury section. I think they really like me. I'm still in this.

But my heart stops and I’m frozen in time when I hear Sean say, “You’re full of surprises, Kelsi.”

This moment with my tongue on the tip of the banana feels like it goes on forever as Sean's eyes pierce me. I feel like I'm naked for the first time while being fully dressed. I am definitely transferring out of that English class. When I’m finally done with my performance, the guys give me a huge round of applause and I can even hear the occasional 10 shouted out. Perhaps I haven’t lost after all?

“All right, ladies,” the Captain booms with pride. “Great performances from all of you. I’ve never seen a banana have it so good. Stellar, honestly. But now, it’s time for the jury to discuss. Begin your deliberations!”

The jury talks amongst themselves for quite some time. I hear our names mentioned a lot. There seems to be some sort of argument between them and it's getting heated. It doesn’t seem like an easy decision. But finally, after an agonizing wait, one of the jury members takes a stand.

“We’ve come to a verdict," the jury member announces.

He looks so ridiculous giving this formal announcement all serious-like, as if he's in an courtroom, all the while he's wearing nothing but a speedo.

“Excellent. Who is our lucky winner?" the Captain asks cheerfully.

The guy nods and begins to deliver a speech. This formal procedure is so absurd. You're wearing a speedo, dude. If you were wearing a centimeter less of cloth, I could literally see your dick.

“We were all impressed with Isabella’s facial expressions. She did a really great job. Any banana would be lucky to, err, be eaten by her. And Julie, wow! Let me just say, you’ve got a lot of fans here on the boy’s swim team. That boob job you gave the banana? We loved the boldness. That was one hell of a sexy banana eating. A-plus performance, really. And then there's Kelsi..." the juror says.

My heart skips a beat. The moment of truth. Will I be spared?

"Kelsi, there’s not a single guy here that didn’t love your performance. That shy girl act? Damn, who doesn’t love the idea of a girl giving a, err, EATING a banana for the first time. I think we must have spent the entire time arguing about it. We had a bit of a dilemma, you see," he continues.

A dilemma?

“We all agree that you definitely, without a doubt, had the most exciting performance," the juror says.

I won? I won! Heck yeah! Sorry, Isabella, but like I said, your suffering is a sacrifice I’m willing to make for the greater good. Best. Day. Ever.

“But unfortunately, you’ve always got to read the fine-print. It’s a sexy banana eating contest, not a popularity contest. While we all love the shy girl thing you’ve got going on, we don’t think it technically meets the requirements for being ‘sexy,'" he continues.

Waaaaaaah! You’ve got to be kidding me. All that speech and building me up, just to lose on a freaking technicality? This is so unfair. The game is rigged! How could I be the most popular and still lose!? Objection, objection! I object!

“All right, Kelsi, get on up here to the tickle podium. It’s your time to shine, doll,” the Captain says.

My legs are frozen and I can't move. This can't be happening. Am I really going to let these girls tickle me in front of all these boys?

“Ready to get naked?” the Captain asks.

NAKED?

A/N: Part 4 was meant to be the big finale, but it ended up being so long that you lucky readers are getting a whole extra chapter after this one. Good news for us, but bad news for Kelsi, I'm afraid. I sure am glad I'm not in her shoes. Also, please forgive my ridiculously cheesy pop culture references, I can't help myself.

Part 4

Naked? Nobody said anything about getting naked. Screw this, I’m out of here. I wouldn’t even let my high school boyfriend see me in my underwear. If you think I’m just going to walk up there and let those maniacal succubi strip my clothes off in front of the entire boys’ swim team, you've got another thing coming.

I turn towards the door, but my legs still don’t move. Instead, I reflect back on everything that I’ve been through. Those long summer months of heartfelt training... for three months, I went to the pool every single day and I’d work out until I hit my limit. I pushed myself harder than I had in any other sport, and no matter how much my legs or arms ached, I would think, no, Kelsi, you’re not finished yet. You can do more. I remember how I felt when the Captain said she was impressed, how she thought I had a real shot at varsity, the excitement of a possible scholarship that would free me from student loans, and that feeling of pure joy when she announced that Julie and I made the team. I look at Julie’s face with her beautiful locks of silk and remember that feeling of comradery when I made my first friend...

The old Kelsi, maybe, would have run out of here without a second thought, but that’s not me anymore. I’m not that shy little girl who ran away from my friends and hid in the parking lot just because I was too embarrassed for anyone to see me in a swimsuit. I’ve faced my fears and I’ve worked too hard to give up now. I’m not a quitter. My name is Kelsi and I’m not going to run away anymore.

With new resolve, I walk up to the makeshift podium the girls’ swim team created for the banana contest. Strip me of my clothes and tickle me if you must, but you can’t intimidate me into giving up my dreams. I'm not afraid.

But when I actually step up on to the podium and remember the entire boys’ swim team is watching, my legs quiver. Oh. My. God. The reality of the situation dawns on me. The entire boys’ swim team is about to see me stripped down to my birthday suit and the senior girls are going to tickle me until I’m reduced to a whimpering mess. I can see myself pleading and bartering to give them anything they want in exchange for the slightest hint of mercy. Even in my imagination, my legs feel weak. I don’t want to do this, though the strange sensations in my lower body tell a slightly different story.

All that bravado about my name is Kelsi and I’m not running away anymore? Yeah, screw that. This was a terrible idea. Kelsi, what were you thinking? If you were even thinking at all! You're about to be stripped in front of the entire boys' swimming team.

They're going to see you naked, Kelsi. NAKED!

My daydreaming comes to an end as I notice everyone is staring at me. They’re waiting for me to take my clothes off.

“Move it along, freshman,” barks the Captain. “I need to get home in time for Passions. Timmy is stuck down the well, and if you make me miss it...”

...

I’m on the cusp of my most treasured assets being revealed to a group of 20 something strangers, most of which are incredibly cute guys wearing next-to-nothing, the most humiliating moment of my entire life, and she’s worried about missing her soap opera? You can’t make this shit up.

Despite how much I want to join the swim team, I can’t move myself to take off my clothes while everyone is staring at me. In my moment of inner turmoil, it's Stacy that breaks from the group.

Stacy whispers in my ear, “Need some help?”

I nod and she gives me a sympathetic nod. Her voice is smooth, melodic, and calming, and she continues to whisper in my ear.

“I was in your shoes once. It’ll be okay. Just try to have fun with it,” Stacy says.

Speaking of shoes, she gently unties my sneakers and slips them off. As weird as it sounds, her words and gentle touch have a relaxing effect, and my tense muscles start to loosen. I feel Stacy’s soft hands lift my arms and the cool air touches my skin as she lifts my shirt. I am a knightess about to lose her armor. My cream-colored brassiere and modest cleavage are unveiled to the boys’ feasting eyes.

The tranquil silence breaks and a cacophony of cheering begins. Even the girls join in and I hear wolf whistles and cat calls, the excitement in their voices un-ignorable, their joy contagious. I, too, almost want to join in and cheer, but I blush at my own caprice. Am I enjoying this, I wonder? No, no, no! This is literally the worst thing that’s ever happened to me. I can’t believe this. They’re staring at me! Eeeeee, stop looking at my boobs! I quickly fold my arms over my chest in embarrassment.

“Hand it over, bro! I told you she was a C!”

“No way, bro, she could totally be a B.”

The Captain speaks up.

“Can you clear that up for them, Kelsi?” the Captain asks.

Oh. My. God. Is she really going to make me do this? Forced to tell them my own cup size while being stripped and humiliated? I once again feel the conflict within myself as strange sensations radiate from my lower abdomen. I hate this, but also, it’s... kind of hot? What am I thinking? I don’t know what I’m thinking, but I get the feeling I’d better hurry up and answer. I just imagine how mad the Captain will be if she misses her soap. My imagination gets the better of me and I think about all sorts of humiliating things that I’m not brave enough to expand on here. In my mind’s eye, I hear the Captain auctioning off the right to examine my bra and experience the humiliation of the boys reading off my exact size from the label. No, that sounds horrible!

“I’m a C-cup!” I cry out.

There is an eruption of cheers from the jury.

“That’s $5. Hand it over, Johnny.”

“Must have left my wallet in my other pants," Johnny says with an awkward laugh.

The senior girls' giggles echo through the locker room as Johnny’s attention returns to my chest.

“They’re even bigger than I thought they’d be. Bro, I would love to be her banana,” Johnny continues.

“I feel you, bro, I feel you. Hey guys, let’s give a big cheer for Kelsi!”

I hear them chanting my name. Kelsi, Kelsi, Kelsi! If it weren’t for the fact that I’m practically a manikin on display in the middle of a crowded mall, I might actually enjoy the attention.

The Captain clears her throat and the boys shut up immediately. She looks directly at Stacy and points at the clock. It now says 8:30 p.m.

“We’re on a deadline here. Are you helping Kelsi or volunteering for an encore performance?” the Captain asks.

Without skipping a beat, I feel Stacy’s nimble fingers unbutton my shorts and slide them down my legs, revealing my small, hipster-style panties. They’re bright white with lots of cute little red hearts on them. Why, I think, did I wear this underwear tonight? Well, Kelsi, you couldn’t have exactly predicted that you’d be showing them off to the boys’ swim team. But also, are you really so naive? Maybe the next time someone invites you to an initiation, you might consider wearing some grown-up clothes?

“Oh my gosh,” Stacy yelps. “They’re so cute!”

My humiliation is complete. Don’t look, Sean. I close my eyes, almost believing that if I can't see, this isn’t really happening, and the girls aren’t giggling at my child-like heart panties. I hear lots of words being thrown out like adorable and precious. Don’t look at me! I blush, now acutely aware of every article of clothing both on, and not on, my body, as I stand here in only my bra, panties, and pink ankle socks.

When the team finally gets bored talking about my panties, I start to hear more pointed comments about my body, about how toned and sexy my slender legs are, how my tummy is so flat with just a tiny bit of roundness. Where I was once proud of the swimmer body that I meticulously sculpted in my summer workouts, it is now the instrument of my humiliation. The entire swim team has an unconstrained, unimpeded view of every slope and crevice on my body, and I can do nothing to hide it from them. I can feel the blood rushing to my face as I blush from the sheer audacity of the jury’s impetuous commentary.

Again, the Captain points at the clock. 8:32pm. Has it really only been two minutes? It feels like I’ve been standing here for hours, but time has a way of slowing down when you’re the only one in your underwear. Stacy wastes no time using her nimble fingers to unhook my bra with the precision of a seamstress. Too proud to show weakness, I say nothing, but inside, I cry out no. My armor, the last thing standing between the audience and my everything, my most sacred jewels that no boy has ever laid his lucky eyes upon. And now, to my misfortune, they’re no sacred jewels at all, but rather a grapefruit special on sale at Walmart that any random passerby could descry and discern.

The locker room erupts with clamor and applause. There are hurrahs and shouting, an inspirational rally in response to my debut. It's almost as if the guys were attending a pep rally rather than witnessing my ultimate humiliation. I have no trouble believing they’re all having the best night of their entire lives. If I’m being honest, I feel a tinge of pride that I excite them so, but that doesn’t stop me immediately folding my arms and guarding my chest. It’s a pointless gesture, because I know in only moments, my arms will be tied to the ceiling, but at least in this moment, I still have a sliver of control.

“They’re so pink, bro! I told you,” one guy says.

I let out a shriek of embarrassment as I realize this dirty boy can still see my nipples. I look down and quickly adjust my arms, making sure that I cover every pixel-like centimeter of my breast as best I can.

I see two of the guys give each other a high five. The ridiculous way they talk and their flagrant use of words like bro and dude reminds me of Keanu Reeves in Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure, which only amplifies my mortification. I silently curse them, knowing that I’ll never again be able to travel with Keanu on his most excellent adventure through time.

“You did, bro, you totally did! This is even better than I imagined.”

“Look how ROUND they are, dude. Awesome!”

“Bro, my dick is harder than it was when she ate that banana.”

My heart skips a beat. I’ve been so laser focused on my current state of affairs that I hadn’t noticed that THE ENTIRE BOYS' SWIM TEAM HAS A FUCKING BONER! I can actually see their arousal through the thin, pliable material of their speedos. My eyes widen. Holy. Shit.

“Dude, look, she’s blushing! She’s so shy and it’s so hot. I’m so horny, I just want to rub one out, you know?”

“Me, too, bro!”

But before things can get any wilder, the Captain takes a stand and the cheering subsides. “Keep it in your pants, boys, unless you want to trade places with our star performer. I promise you, the ladies here don’t mind giving those bananas of yours a good waxing.”

Now, me personally, I think that sounds like an excellent idea, but to my dismay, it’s not happening. The boys give her a thumbs up and my fantasy of getting to tickle hot guys in speedos comes to an abrupt end. I look to the clock and it’s only 8:35. Barely a few minutes have passed. Is there something wrong with this fucking clock? I cannot believe this agonizing revelation has only lasted minutes instead of hours.

“Captain,” Stacy says with pause, “Can we keep her cute little panties on? I mean, just look at them.” Stacy twirls me around with a certain feminine grace, and everyone in the room gets a close look at my backside. “See the nice shape they give her cute little butt?”

“I’ll allow it,” booms the Captain, ignoring the boos and jeers from the jury as they let their disapproval be known. “Can it, boys. I agree with Stacy. They’re cute.”

You have to admire how much the swim team respects her. From the moment I met the Captain, there hasn’t been a moment where she wasn’t in complete control. No one does anything without her approval.

My mind is split in two. On the one hand, thanks, Stacy, for saving my flower. Seriously. She singlehandedly saved me from total exposure. But on the other, there is something patronizing about being allowed to keep my panties just because they’re ‘cute’. Urgh, it makes me so mad! It’s not like I would ever wear panties with hearts all over them on a date that I thought might go somewhere. I have plenty of sexy lingerie. But for some stupid reason, I chose to wear the comfy, cute underwear, and now everyone is going to think this is what I wear all the time. I almost want to shout at them, I have lots of sexy underwear, you judgmental idiots! But my more rational side decides against listing out the contents of my underwear drawer to my tormentors. Maybe it’s not the best idea to give them even more ammunition to embarrass me with.

“All right, Stacy, can you please go get the bar?”

Stacy is like the Captain’s second-in-command; the one she can count on to get the job done. And I can’t deny that Stacy has a way of getting what she wants. When she was stripping me, her voice was so soothing and calming, I almost wanted to thank her for being so kind as to undress me. I blush at the ridiculousness of the thought.

I see Sean holding a bar with rope tied to it in the most peculiar pattern and he hands it to Stacy. Another one of the boys puts his head between Stacy’s legs and it’s exactly as dirty as you’re imagining. Whoosh, up she goes with a giggle onto his broad shoulders, and Stacy begins tying the rope to a fixture on the ceiling. The reason for the strange rope pattern becomes clear when Stacy effortlessly spins the bar and it goes round and round. This is the true purpose of its Machiavellian design: to ensure that I could be tickled from any angle. No crevice of my body would be safe from the swim teams’ prying eyes. Redness rushes to my face once again, but this time, I’m unsure if it’s from embarrassment or anger.

All I know is this is downright unfair. They never said anything about being naked when they started this stupid banana contest. I thought it was a stupid idea, but I was a good sport and participated anyway for the sake of team bonding. And despite having literally the best performance in the contest, they stripped me of my win on a fucking technicality. The game is rigged! No fair!

Stacy raises my arms and ties each of my hands to a separate side of the bar. It’s tight enough to hold, but not so much that it causes pain or discomfort. My feet remain comfortable on the floor and I’m thankful for small blessings. It could be worse, Kelsi. Remember that time Sophia showed you that girl suspended in bondage and you freaked out? Yeah, that could be you right now. This isn’t so bad, right?

No, no, no, this is definitely that bad. My breasts are completely exposed and the boys are salivating. I think back to when I had to tell them I’m a C cup, when they excitedly pointed out how my tits were rounder than they expected, when that filthy boy said my nipples are so pink. Only now their view is unimpeded by the protection of my arms, their view of my breast no longer merely a silhouette but a vivid painting everlasting in their memories. I relive the moments of my humiliation and feel both utter shame and unfamiliar ecstasy. I'm flush from the embarrassment of the recollection, but my body betrays me with a longing for paradisal release.

I close my eyes as Stacy finishes her work. My mind wanders and I find myself thinking about the most deplorable acts. I lose myself in my thoughts. I think about Sean touching my skin and a river of pleasure flows into me, but my pretty thoughts are short-lived as I'm rudely awakened by the sound of argument. I’m brought back to the reality of my circumstance.

“No, I want to tickle her first,” says one of the senior girls.

They’re fighting over who gets to tickle me. Are you kidding me?

“Now, now,” the Captain says, gently pacifying her minions. “Surely you can resolve this in a more civilized manner.”

“Rock, paper, scissors?” the girl says.

I proceed to, I kid you fucking not, watch the senior girls play several rounds of the school-yard game they call rock paper scissors. I cannot believe that they are playing this stupid game to decide who gets to fucking tickle me. Un-freaking-believable. My fate is actually being decided by an arbitrary game of chance.

“Aww, don’t look so glum,” the senior girl says cheerfully to Stacy and the two remaining dejected-looking ladies. “You’ll get your turn. We’ll leave some scraps, I promise!”

I hear incessant giggling and my mortification intensifies. I look now to the boys and I notice the texture of their speedos. They’re all rock hard. Disgusting, but also, wow... I can hardly believe their speedos can actually hold back so much mass. Spandex is truly magical.

Stacy moves back to the Captain’s side as the three fully dressed senior girls approach me with a psychotic gleam in their eyes. So it begins, I think, so it begins.

“Where are you most ticklish, darling?” the senior girl asks me.

Here is some life advice. When a psychotic tickling maniac asks you where you’re ticklish, you lie. You give the most convincing lie you can muster and say it with a straight face. You should, under no circumstances, answer their question honestly.

“Um, under my arms,” I say, yet it sounds more like a question than a statement. So much for telling it with a straight face.

I can feel dozens of soft, tiny fingers dig into the sensitive skin of my underarms and my voice breaks into laughter. For the first time tonight, it is not the laughter and cheers of the hot, speedo-clad boys, or the booming voice of the Captain, or the twisted giggling of the girls, but my own voice that fills and echoes throughout the locker room. I give out a wild howl as I involuntarily make the most humiliating noises. I am so ticklish, this is unbearable.

But I persevere. I dare not ask them to stop, not now. To give up now, after being stripped and presented on a makeshift stage, after my arms were tied to the ceiling, and somehow not join the team? After all that? It’s unthinkable. I must endure it. I am stoic.

“Ha, ha, ha, oh, my, gosh, ha, ha, please, guys, it, tickles, ha, ha, so, much,” I can barely speak, my laughter interrupting every word I attempt to enunciate.

When you’re being tickle tortured, you only speak in vowels. I try to twist and protect my vulnerable armpits from the claw-like grip of these harpies to no avail. I cackle and howl, but they do not relent.

“Girls, I think she was lying. Do you think she was lying?” the ringleader asks.

“Those don’t sound like the squeals of a girl being tickled in her most vulnerable spot to me,” another senior girl answers.

“The truth, Kelsi. We’re not leaving until you do,” the ringleader says. She whispers in my ear, “Think carefully about your next words. Passions starts in half an hour.”

Unbelievable. I hope Timmy drowns in that stupid well.

Out of a sense of self preservation, I decide to go with a lie that, while humiliating, I think they might believe.

“My nipples,” I say as I hang my head in shame.

I can’t believe I’m going to let them touch and tickle my nipples. I’ve never even let anyone look at my breasts, much less touch them, and here I am letting these girls skip straight on over to third base. Unfortunately, it’s the most believable lie I can think of on the fly without betraying my most vulnerable secret.

It begins again. I feel their soft fingers brush against my breast. My treacherous body fills with a brief delight moments before I break down into a roar of uncontrollable laughter. Oh, my, God, I think. I glance at the jury, who are no doubt enjoying the show, but imagine my shock to once again find myself pierced by Sean’s gaze. He looks directly into my eyes and time stops completely. I see myself through his eyes, a young, busty swimmer stripped down to her heart-filled panties, arms tied to the ceiling, breasts jiggling rhythmically in the air, being tickled mercilessly by a trio of demonic succubi, the ecstasy of my defeat served to him with pleasure. He must be reveling in my humiliation.

Yet his eyes do not show that gleam of darkness, of superiority and conceit. No, his gaze is of adoration and kindness, it shows a kind of admiration. The word appreciation fills my mind’s eye. For the first time, I find myself conflicted and confused about my feelings towards Sean.

But my connection with Sean breaks as the girls twist me around and I find myself facing away from the jury. The ringleader girl holds my chin with her fingers ever so delicately.

“Kelsi, we all want to go home at some point. Your tickle spot, please,” she says serenely.

I say nothing, paralyzed by the fear of them discovering my most deeply held secret.

“Maybe it’s your inner thigh?” she asks.

She runs her fingers across my inner thigh and I squirm, letting out a guffaw of laughter.

“That’s not it. Maybe something embarrassing, like your little booty?” she continues.

She lightly runs her fingers along the crease between my thigh and butt and I flush crimson.

“Hmm, that’s not it, either. Where could it be?” she says gingerly, lightly running her fingers across my body.

It’s only for a sliver of a moment, but I briefly glance down at my socks. My blood runs cold as the nameless siren bursts out into the biggest smile.

She knows.

“Oh, it’s so obvious. I really am a dumb blonde, aren’t I? Your most ticklish spot is your feet. Of course it is," the ringleader giggles.

“No, it’s not,” I protest. “It’s my ribcage. I’m ticklish on my ribcage.”

But it’s too late. No one entertains my obvious lie. I feel my legs lift up into an L-shape and they gently remove my tiny pink ankle socks. In what feels like a flash, the senior ladies turn me back around towards the jury and I feel my butt slide across a bench, my body forced into a seated position. My nightmare is now realized and I silently pray for mercy. Please, anywhere but my feet.

Almost as if my prayers are answered, I hear the Captain’s booming voice. “Time’s up, ladies. Give your teammates a turn.”

I can see Stacy jump up with glee as she and two other senior girls skip towards me. Oh no. No, no, no, no, no. This isn’t happening. But unfortunately, my thoughts are powerless to stop the trio of foxy vixens gleefully approaching and eyeing my helpless extremities.

“Please don’t tickle my feet,” I cry out.

hot

A/N: This is the big conclusion. There could be a sequel someday maybe. But for now, Kelsi's adventure has come to an end. I can only describe being tickled in so many ways before the thesaurus starts charging me rent, so I think it's time to give our heroine a much needed break. Plus, I'm honestly scared of what Kelsi or one of her friend's might do to Jennifer if I draw it out any further. Thanks for reading, friends.

Part 5

I plead in vain as Stacy gleefully begins to rub her fingers down the soles of my feet.

“Nooooo!” I shout fruitlessly into the void that is her conscience.

The tickling sensation is immediate and lightning strikes my lower half. I feel a familiar warmth, but it quickly eludes me as the more pertinent matter at hand comes to my attention. I let out the most hideous shrieks I’ve ever had the displeasure of hearing myself bellow, and there is no doubt amongst either the men’s or the women’s swim teams that they have, indeed, found my most ticklish spot.

“Oh, wow,” Stacy says with serenity. “This must really tickle, Kelsi.”

“No, ha, ha, shit, ha, Stay, ha, Cee,” I reply, my spunky and defiant attitude coming out.

But my bravado is empty, the gesture meaningless, as I continue to make the most humiliating sounds. I squirm and I writhe as my body shakes. I feel my breasts violently jiggle, my skin rippling as my ass cheeks continue to bounce. I helplessly try to pull back against my captors to no avail and my nipples continue to harden ever sharper.

I have no secrets left to hide. I am utterly defeated. The boys are free to gaze upon my body with delight, their every fantasy fulfilled, the secrets of my body no longer closed to their imaginations, but presented freely as exhibition.

“Holy shit, bro, look at the way her boobs bounce!”

“Wicked!”

“It’s, ha, ha, too much! Ha, ha, ha, please, ha, ha, stop,” I beg.

To my surprise, the tickling stops. The parade of cheering ends and the proceedings come to a halt. Silence.

I stare into Stacy's friendly eyes, her beautiful, angel-like face calming my torrent of rage and despair. Her siren-like voice whispers in my ear.

“You okay, sweetie? Just say the word and I’ll take care of you. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

I must admit, my first impression of Stacy was that she's a kind of ditzy blonde, a klutz whose main purpose on the team was to do the Captain’s bidding, but I believe now that I was too quick to judge. She's a sweetheart. Her heartfelt concern for my well-being touches me. When I said stop, she stopped. She checked to see if I was okay.

But I don't have time to bask in Stacy's sympathy right now. I remember my circumstance. With the proceedings halted, I realize that I have a choice. I can leave if I want to. All of my friends from school would expect me to. Sophia, no doubt, would say, that’s exactly what Kelsi did. They turned up the heat, tickled her feet, and Kelsi ran out white as a sheet.

Sophia’s not stupid. She knows how much I hate tickling. She knows I would do anything, say anything to escape it. She knows that when Stacy says I don’t have to do this anymore, the next thing I'm go to say say is, yes, please, I’m ready to go home.

And on any other day, she’d be right.

“No,” I say, surprised at the sound of my own voice as I hear my repulsive words enter into the pregnant air. “I want to be on the team.”

I see Stacy give me a grin, a genuine smile, a smile that you can only truly appreciate by seeing it in her eyes. When she looks at me, it's not with an air of superiority, but rather admiration. Stacy is proud of my resolve.

“But maybe you could stop tickling my feet?” I ask hopefully. Can't hurt to ask, right?

Stacy gives me a warm, consoling grin. “Sorry, sweetie, it’s all or nothing.”

I give a hesitant nod. The two senior girls to Stacy’s side hold down my legs and I’m now powerless to kick or halt Stacy’s advances. Stacy’s soft, angel-like and yet demonically evil fingers dig in once more into my incredibly sensitive feet.

“Waaaah,” I shriek, “Wah, ha, ha, oh, God, it, tickles, ha, so, wah, ha, ha, much!” I cry out.

Unable to move anything except my torso, I twist and turn, shriek and howl. The torture of Stacy’s dainty fingers grazing the soles of my feet envelops my consciousness. I feel my breasts bounce and jiggle and my poor nipples ache with a double-sided pleasure.

The clamorous cheers of the jury once more fill the room.

“Woohoo! Go Kelsi!”

Again, the guys chant my name. Kelsi, Kelsi, Kelsi! My performance as a shy, reluctant ticklee is clearly driving them wild, but to me, it’s no performance, it is no act. I am unbelievably, incontrovertibly, without a shadow of a doubt, really fucking ticklish, and I cannot believe I voluntarily agreed to let this happen.

But it’s too much. I thrash and I squirm, my body involuntarily jiggling in a humiliating and titillating fashion to the boys’ delight. No matter how much I pull my feet away, I’m unable to escape Stacy’s angel-like claws. I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to give up, I want to be a part of the team, but I also can’t take much more of this. I’m reaching my limits. Trepidation creeps up on me like a slimy, slithering snake. Goosebumps crawl on my skin as I realize I’m reaching the end of the line. It’s too much. If this goes on much longer, I’m going to break.

In a moment of acute horror, my survival instincts kick in, and without even thinking about the consequences, I blurt out, “You can take my panties off if you stop tickling my feet!”

Dead silence. The entire room is stunned by my outburst.

But it does not take long for the jury to lend their approval. Great idea, Kelsi. Bro, do you think the carpets match the drapes? I always wanted to see that bubble butt in its full glory.

I thought I had no secrets left to reveal, but how wrong I was, as the consequences of my thoughtless outburst come back to haunt me. The bench is removed from underneath me and my legs gently fall to the ground. My feet touch the cold concrete of the locker room for the first time and I shiver. I feel the frigid, icy air, the consequence of my nudity, yet also the blistering heat of ecstasy, my body drenched in sweat.

I feel Stacy’s soft fingers hook into the sides of my panties, and inside, I cry, please no, not my panties. Where once I looked at them in disdain, my child-like underwear printed with hearts, I now feel apologetic, their incredibly important job of preserving my flower, my dignity, coming to the forefront. No, I think, please don’t leave me. But my internal begging is in vain as my panties slide slowly down my legs, revealing my precious flower, a trimmed landing strip, but otherwise completely smooth.

“I knew it, bro, I knew it! She totally is a natural blonde!”

“Woohoo, Kelsi, I love you!” a random guy with a huge boner shouts out.

I blush. I am mortified, both by the loss of my panties, that the boys’ swim team has discovered that I am, in fact, a true blonde, and by this filthy boy’s proclamation of love with his absolutely ridiculous speedo-contained banana-like fucking boner.

“Turn her around, turn her around,” the jury cheers, and I feel Stacy’s graceful arms turning me to the other side.

“Bro, that ass, am I right?”

“Dude, I think this is, like, the best night of my entire life.”

“Bro, this is, like, the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen.”

My face burns with fire. How dare they, I think, but I’m powerless. My arms are bound to the ceiling and my last sliver of dignity has been stripped away. My only consolation is that this could not get any worse.

“Well, time to get back to tickling,” Stacy whispers in my ear and my heart skips a beat.

Fuck. No, no, no, no. It’s not over? I gave up my panties. Come. On. They saw my fucking pussy! They ogled at my ass! You’re telling me that’s not enough!?

Dozens of fingers dig into the deepest recesses of my body. Nothing is sacred. My underarms, my breasts, my ribcage, my thighs, my butt, nothing is off limits to these girls... nothing except my feet, which in a moment of desperation, I traded my panties to protect. I squirm and thrash with a relentless force that Stacy and her partners in crime had not seen before, but it only invigorates them to tickle me harder. My butt facing the boys’ swim team, I feel its every jiggle, ripple, and bounce as my body involuntarily shakes. The guys love it and they are not shy to let me know.

“Woohoo, Kelsi, shake that booty!”

“Bro, I didn’t even know it could bounce like that.”

I squeak and squirm, I twist and thrash, I howl and cackle as my laughter echoes through the room, but I am powerless to do anything except surrender to Stacy’s vixen-like teasing. Internally, I beg for it to end, but it doesn’t. I’m not even sure I want it end as my nether regions ignite, but no, I don’t want this, who would ever want this, I think, as my inner conflict comes to a head.

I’m turned around again and again, as the jury can’t seem to decide if they prefer to see my bouncing breasts or my jiggling ass as Stacy and her friends teach me new definitions of what it means to suffer, their fingers delightfully glazing my sensitive skin all over my body. Suffering? You love this, Kelsi. My confession makes me crimson with shame and I don’t think I’ll ever live this down. But I don’t have long to contemplate the future, as the sounds of the boys cheering and my own laughter interrupt my every thought.

Even worse, Sean does not relent, he does not give me an inch of peace, his eyes glued to mine at every opportunity.

Note to self. Transfer. Out. Of. That. Class.

I screech and squirm for what feels like forever, my eyes closed, unable to face my peers as I involuntarily stand here, my body completely exposed, my curves bouncing and jiggling, their sole purpose of existence now the entertainment of my future teammates. I can't believe I'm naked and being tickled in front of the entire boys' swim team. How could I let this happen?

They can see everything: my ample bosom and cutely-shaped pink nipples, my toned and curvaceous bubbly butt, my freshly waxed pussy and the little strip of blonde hair right above that covers nothing of importance; all things that were, at one time, so sanctified as to only be beheld by my own eyes. I've never been so humiliated, so exposed, so powerless, all the while unable to think for more than a few moments at a time as I screech in laughter and succumb to the loud cheers of my new personal fan club.

...

When the tickling session finally comes to an end, I'm out of breath. I'm not sure if it's actually over or if they're just taking a break, but I pray it's the former.

“That’s enough, ladies. Let her down. I’ve got to go. Take care of her, will you?” the Captain requests.

Ironically, it is none other than Stacy, my latest tormentor, that comes to my rescue and begins to release me from my bondage. I must have been tickled for hours. But hours it has not been, as I read the clock and it says it's only 8:50 p.m.

The Captain abruptly leaves the locker room, and I can only guess it has something to do with her soap. I’m left in Stacy’s capable hands. My arms feel weightless as they come down to my side. I do not even bother trying to cover myself despite finally being able to freely move my limbs, partially because of pure exhaustion, and partially because every person in this room been staring at my naked body for so long that such a gesture now feels utterly pointless.

At least it's finally over. I can relax.

Or not. Oh no. I see Julie and Isabella rushing towards me. They’ve come to make fun of me for my humiliating ordeal. Please, haven't I been through enough?

Huh? They're bringing me my clothes?

I'm surprised to see no cruelty in their eyes, but rather cheer and beaming smiles. Instead of laughing at me in my dazed state of confusion, they've come to help me get dressed.

“Holy shit, Kelsi, you’ve got more balls than the entire boys’ swim team put together. I can’t believe you went through with that,” Isabella says, beaming at me. “Girl, seriously, I’m impressed. I’m sorry for being a bitch earlier. Friends?”

I give her a hazy nod and return a smile.

“Friends,” I say.

“You did it, Kelsi!” Julie cheers and almost knocks me off my feet when she hugs me. “That was so brave. I don’t think I could have done it. Hearing the boys swim team talk about my body in such a filthy way? No, I couldn’t. Girl, you might be the strongest person I’ve ever met.”

I embrace Julie. The warmth of her friendship spreads through my entire body.

Despite my misgivings about the Captain’s ‘team bonding exercise’, I must admit, there have been some positives. Through the trauma of our initiation and the most difficult trial I’ve ever faced, I think I now have a lifetime bond with Isabella and Julie. I have everything I ever wanted when I came to UofT: good friends, a team that believes in me, and an absolutely ridiculous story about a sexy banana eating contest. I’m going to be all right.

As a bonus, I’ve made an important step in overcoming my body shyness. I think I might even be able to change in the locker room without feeling embarrassed or nervous now. Showering in a public stall? Hell no. One step at a time, okay?

With my hour-long initiation finally over, Julie and I make our way towards the exit. On my way out, I notice Isabella chatting up a feisty looking Stacy in the corner of my eye.

“If you were impressed by the banana, wait until you see what I can do with a peach.”

*Epilogue – One Day Later – English Class*

“Hey, Kelsi,” Sean says. “Glad to see you. I didn’t uh, get a chance to talk to you after the, uh, thing, but I just wanted to say, like, you know...”

I almost don’t recognize him with all his clothes on. He’s really awkward. He’s not exactly prince charming when it comes to talking to girls. But he doesn’t need to be. If you’d seen what he looks like in a speedo, you’d understand.

“You know...?” I reply quizzically.

I’m trying to act cool, but I’m totally not. I’m sweating bullets. My crush is talking to me and he’s the nervous one? Sophia will never believe this.

“That I like, you know, I think you’re cool. I thought your whole thing the other day was like, really far out and brave, you know? What I’m trying to say is, like, do you want to hang out?” Sean asks.

I smile and whisper in his ear the most banger line I can think of on the fly.

“I need to pick up some bananas. Want to come?”