Pantsing and Stripping Forums

IMPORTANT: This story is a continuation of the short vignette “What About Charlie?” from the “It Isn’t Easy Being a Girl” anthology By Sue DeNym. Please read it first.

When I read the original vignette, I fell in love with it. The short on its own is perfect as a standalone piece, and eloquently encapsulates a defining moment in one boy’s life as he pays a visit to his aunt, who is coaching a team of teen gymnasts. The vignette does a great job at placing you in its world, and leaving the reader's imagination with so many possibilities to explore at its conclusion. Even if you don’t go on to read what follows, I highly recommend giving the original short vignette a read.

Purely as a writing experiment, I decided to sit down and see where my imagination took the story next. Now, with Sue DeNym’s blessing, I’m sharing my unofficial continuation here.

This kicks off immediately following the final line of Sue DeNym’s vignette, so if you haven’t read that, please jump over here to read that first.

Thank you Sue for writing something so fun, that pressed all the right buttons to get me out of my I-don't-wanna-write rut!

And now, we continue Charlie's story, immediately following on from the last line of the original vignette...

My eyes flittered from one girl to the next, not knowing which of them would be the first to expose their underwear to me, and certainly not wanting to miss whoever it was. The girls stood stiffly in their two rows of six across the stage, their warm smiles wrestled away from them by the twisted turn of events that had befallen them in the last ten seconds. Now grappling with their new reality, they stood hesitantly toying with their leotard’s shoulder straps, and staring apprehensively in my direction, undoubtedly trying to wordlessly will me into looking away.

That, of course, was not on the cards. The opportunity for a twelve-year-old boy to watch a bunch of cute teenaged girls strip down to their underwear was, as far as I could tell, a thing of pure fantasy. It was never supposed to happen… But that very opportunity had just been presented to me on a silver platter, and served up with a side of my aunt’s blessing, no less! I easily convinced myself that with the benefit of time, the girls would see that this was too rare an opportunity for me to decline, and would understand my decision to watch them undress to their bras and panties.

“Girls, please, no more dilly-dallying,” my aunt persisted as she grew impatient with the girls doing little more than eyeing me anxiously and fidgeting about. “We have six more costumes to get through here. Enough with the stage-fright, he’s just a boy!”

It seemed clear to everyone but my aunt that this was the very issue the girls had with the situation. Myself and the girls could both scarcely believe what was happening. In order to avoid rocking the boat, I pulled my school bag up onto my lap, and pretended to rifle through it to find something to occupy myself with, while the uninteresting costume change took place.

For a moment, things remained in a frozen standoff, but then, slowly, one by one, they began to turn away from me… The indication that they were actually going to proceed with undressing!

I was about to see twelve girls in their underwear. Twelve! My heart was racing. This was crazy. I knew it really wasn’t a state of undress that much more revealing than the leotards they were currently in, and was likely less revealing than some of the bikinis I’d seen girls in at the beach… But underwear was a private thing. I wouldn’t just be seeing smaller pieces of fabric on these girls, I would be having an insight into their private world. I would see what kind of underwear these girls walked around in under their clothes. I would have a window into their personal lives, knowing which particular underwear they had chosen to put on that morning. The anticipation and weight of this moment for my young, curious, thirsty mind was intensifying with every lingering second.

I watched in complete silence as the girls began pulling their leotards down over their shoulders and carefully tugging their arms free. Each one stopped when they got to this point, and slowly crouched to fish around in the bag of leotards each of them had by their feet. Obviously having the next leotard at the ready would ensure they could spend as little time in only their underwear as possible.

Except… As I looked around at the girls’ shoulders, it occurred to me that there were no bra straps visible. I blinked and leaned forward, trying to make sense of what I was seeing. These girls were all clearly at a point in development where they should have been wearing bras - I couldn’t have been more intensely aware of the fact that they definitely had boobs - yet their now exposed bare upper backs said that, for whatever reason, bras weren’t a part of this particular dress code.

I was already on the edge of my seat from what was happening, but things had just become much, much more interesting.

I watched as the girls all caught up to this point of their undressing, and nervously looked around at each other, making sure they weren’t acting alone as they each began rolling their leotards further down their bodies, fully confirming to me their complete nakedness above the waist. Gradually, everything down to their lower backs became exposed, and then I glimpsed the very top of one girl’s butt crack.

No way…

There’s no freaking way they’re not wearing underwear down there too!

But as I scanned the leotard-clad posteriors across the stage, I realised I couldn’t discern a single panty line. Not so much as a hint of band peeking out from anywhere.

What I would later learn when questioning my aunt as she drove me home, is that in competitive gymnastics, a gymnast can actually lose points in a competition if any of their underwear becomes exposed during a routine. And so my aunt encourages in all her gymnasts the apparently not uncommon practice of keeping underwear out of the equation entirely.

No wonder these girls seemed so nervous! It wasn’t about me seeing them in their underwear, it was that they weren’t wearing any and were now expected to undress all the way down to their birthday suits in front of a boy!

The girls fidgeted about at this final hurdle of undressing. Their thumbs were hooked into the bunched up leotards at their hips, while in one of those hands their fingers simultaneously held onto the blue and gold leotard they would be changing into next. A dozen young gymnastic students stood hesitantly clutching their last remnant of modesty, none of them wanting to be the first to moon the practically drooling twelve year old boy staring unblinkingly at them.

My aunt, still unable to see what the big deal was, decided to move things along as though this was part of a completely normal group exercise. “On three then,” she announced in a no-nonsense tone.

The girls visibly tensed up at the words. Their body language, even from behind, spoke clearly of the fear and conflict gripping them inside. To disobey their coach was unthinkable. And yet, so was pulling their leotards down in front of—

“One, two, three!”

I don’t know if it was the numerous years of tutelage under my aunt that had conditioned them to unquestioningly obey without so much as a peep, but without any further hesitation, all twelve girls swiftly tugged their leotards down to their feet and kicked them off. My eyes just about bugged out of my head at what had just happened. Despite obeying their coach, the girls were obviously mortified at what they had just done, and at the fact that somehow they were powerless to stop it from happening, due to their almost religious loyalty to their coach. In the immediate aftermath, kicking the pink and white leotards off their feet, the girls were also fastidiously trying to block their toned bottoms from my view using one of their hands. But their strategy was less effective than they probably thought, treating me to a titillating little game of butt crack peek-a-boo.

I reflected back on my walk over here from school, and how I had been looking forward to the eye candy of these high school girls in their leotards. Now, my eyes were freely dancing across those same girls’ almost entirely exposed bottoms. What struck me was how I could now see just how tanned some of the girls were. The parts normally covered up were, on most of the girls, a clearly defined, pale shape; a ghostly reminder of where clothing should have been covering their bodies. I could see precisely where each girl deemed their threshold of “forbidden skin” to begin and end. For some, that limit was a lot bolder than others… but even the most daring of the girls had their own defined point where public view was supposed to end. And for me, rather than these areas having been redacted, they had merely been highlighted, with a footnote saying “These are the areas I wish you couldn’t see”. What I could see however, was that they were all well outside of their comfort zones, and by how much. I drank it all in, grateful to be the custodian of these visual rarities.

The girls moved on to their one-handed scramble of manoeuvring themselves into the next costume without having to uncover their bottoms with their other hand, or part their legs. They were all so desperate to get covered up again that a few of them began wavering in their resolve to keep the correct part of their rears guarded. The occasional exposed butt crack soon graduated to distracted moments of full, unobscured teenaged bottoms, and my eager eyes hunted to try and catch sight of something further between their legs, as the girls tried to shake inside out costumes the right way in, and hopped around trying to rush legs into leg holes. I guess the right type of nervousness can sway even a disciplined gymnast’s balance and poise.

In their hurried malaise, two of the girls discovered as they tried to pull their leotards into place that they had put the suit on backwards, prompting the poor things to have to take them completely off and try again. It was a full three minutes before all twelve girls were re-dressed, and although I miraculously didn’t get a glimpse of any of their “girl goods”, I got to enjoy a lot of pert, jiggling girls’ buttocks.

Now fully dressed in the blue and gold outfits, it still took my aunt’s prompting for any of the girls to turn back around and face us. As long as I wasn’t in their periphery, they could live in an imaginary world where I wasn’t there watching them the whole time they were getting changed. Unfortunately for them, they now had to come crashing back to reality.

For gymnastic girls who were supposedly energetic by nature, they looked exhausted. Their faces were flushed and their breathing suggested they had just completed an intensive five minute routine.

Where before the girls had been staring at me with a look that silently pleaded with me to turn away, they now seemed to be actively trying to ignore my presence in the room. Or more likely, they were continuing to try and convince themselves there wasn’t a boy in the room that was witness to their undressing stage spectacular.

Regardless, I was there, having my twelve-year-old mind blown as they all faced me. Oh how I wished they had been facing this way while naked. The tease had left me positively aching to know what had been exposed to the back wall of the stage mere moments ago, and I actually caught myself thinking that this situation was somehow unfair on me, simply because I didn’t see as much as I could have!

“Okay, aaaand Salute!” My aunt instructed, and a dozen girls’ arms shot skyward as they adopted the traditional upwardly stretched stance a gymnast takes at the beginning of a routine.

“Arms to sides, and quarter pivot!” She sang, and in unison the girls’ arms all snapped down to their sides, and they turned on their heels to face left. The instruction was repeated three more times, resulting in the girls providing us with a full 360 degree display of how their costumes clung form-fitted to the various contours of their bodies.

I was, by this point, incredibly grateful to have a school bag sitting on my lap.

“You all look stunning in this one!” my aunt finally said with a warm smile. “Let’s place this one in the shortlist too, and we’ll try the white and lemon striped one next. Chop, chop!”

Holy heck, I realised. They still had to get completely naked in front of me five more times. And from the looks on the girls’ faces, the full weight of this fact was really starting to sink in.

— —

The girls spun away to once again hide their fronts from me, and I used the opportunity to scurry in an awkward hunch with my school bag and folding chair, to sit closer to my aunt - but more importantly, closer to the stage. If my aunt had noticed this, she certainly didn’t acknowledge it.

With this improved vantage point, I hoped being able to see between their legs would be easier. I all but held my breath in anticipation as the show began again.

It didn’t appear to be any less mortifying for the girls the second time, as they began anew the nightmare of stripping bare-butt naked in front of me. This time, however, there seemed to be slightly less effort going into the task of one-handedly masking their bottoms right from the offset, and I wondered excitedly how much they would progressively be letting their guard down by the third, fourth and fifth undressing. I prayed for them to get to the point where somehow turning to face away from me was too much work.

When it came to the most precarious part of dressing again, stepping into the next leotard, the girls somehow managed a level of guardedness as to once again prohibit me from being able to see between their legs. I suppose it made sense; as gymnasts, legs were their tools of the trade, and it stood to reason they would be able to wield them with the precision of a surgeon with a scalpel.

But something very revealing did happen as the girls started pulling up the pale yellow and white costumes. I could see their butt cracks… Even with the leotards covering them. It appeared that the yellow parts were very, very slightly see-through. It would probably have gone unnoticed in any other circumstances, but under the heavy stage lighting, I was able to make out the swooping line of each and every bottom crack. I twitched with anticipation at what I might be able to make out when the girls turned to face us.

I sat in silent hope that I was the only one to have spotted the slight transparency, but after a few moments, the six girls nearest the front of the stage started to bring their hands around to cover up their butts, apparently having clocked the visible cracks on the six girls further to the back of the stage. Though this was a disappointment, I still had goosebumps over the fact that the other half of the girls had no way of knowing what they would be revealing to me in just a moment.

“Okay, turn around girls, let’s see how these ones look,” came my aunt’s instruction.

The girls all nervously turned to face us, with the girls in the front row holding an arm over their chest and the other positioned over their crotches. Of course, my sights were zeroed in on the girls at the back of the stage. At first I thought they might immediately notice the slightly visible butt cracks of the girls now in front of them, but it seemed that the lights being angled toward the stage meant that the flaw in the fabric wasn’t apparent to them.

As they were further back on the stage, detail was at a minimum, but I could still very vaguely make out these girls’ nipples! Below their breasts, the slightly see-through yellow fabric then alternated with horizontal stripes of fully opaque white fabric all the way down their front, and irritatingly switched to the fully opaque white over their genitals. Curiously though, I could make out a small darker patch on two of the six girls just before that fabric change, which I promptly realised were their carefully curated little patches of pubic hair.

This was huge to me! I hadn’t started getting any pubic hair, but couldn’t wait to have some, and I found the notion of it to be such an exciting thing. Doubly exciting was knowing what these girls were choosing to do with theirs!
It seemed from this small sampling, female gymnasts either just removed it entirely, or kept a little badge of it and got rid of the rest. I wondered if this small sampling was accurate enough to be representative of all girls who took up gymnastics.

I figured I wouldn’t have to wonder for long, as it was likely that a ‘salute’ from the girls was about to cause the sample size to double.

“Um… Mrs. Abernathy?” Squeaked Gabby, a curly haired brunette in the front row. My aunt held up a finger as if to say “just a moment”.

I could see the looks of distress on the girls’ faces in the front row as the anxiety of their coach’s inevitable next instruction crept ever closer.

And…

“Salute!”

Oh! Yes! Good girls!

Every single one obediently raised their hands high above their heads, the six in the front row instantly joining the ones behind them in baring their secrets. But these six girls knew what they were putting on display, and their blushing faces, glowing bright with mortification, made it perfectly clear how they felt about it. I surveyed the front row and my brain took in what it considered to be the most pertinent details.

Little patch, hairless, hairless, hairless, thin strip, little patch.

My young mind didn’t really know what to do with this information, but it felt exciting to know the secret pubic maintenance habits of each of these slightly older girls.

I also found it interesting to see that Claire, the only redhead on the team, and standing first from the left in the front row, had matching red pubes. I had always wondered if her hair was dyed that color, as it almost seemed too rich a tone to be natural. Now I knew better.

“Arms down to your sides” my aunt instructed after a lengthy pause, and the girls arms swooped down to their sides.
“Mrs. Abernathy?” Gabby tried again, a great deal more distress and urgency in her voice this time.
“Gabby, please,” my aunt said, “I’m trying to focus here, to determine whether this Leo is the right choice for the meet. Show me the discipline you would show during a competition routine, just for a few moments more, and we can discuss at the end.”

This exchange gave me time to take in something else… Nipples! A dozen pairs of girls’ nipples! Before this reveal, I would not have been able to anticipate the varying shades and sizes of areola each girl was sporting. Elena, a blonde girl in the front row caught me looking right at her peach colored pointies, and as our eyes momentarily met, I could see her squirming slightly. Her fists clenched and unclenched at her sides as she fought against her natural urge to cover up, knowing exactly what I was looking at. As I allowed my gaze to wander to the next girl, and then the next, I realised that the entire front row was partaking in their own version of this subtle, squirmy dance. And though I’m positive the movements weren’t intentional, it was one of the sexiest things I’d seen in my young life.

I tried my best to memorise as many of the girls’ individual “stats” as I could, studying harder in those short moments than I’d ever done for any school exam. All too soon though, my aunt had finished her little mini-lecture to Gabby, and had them begin their pivoting. Fortunately, they weren’t facing away for long, much to the girls’ chagrin. I looked to my aunt and she was squinting at the stage curiously.

Here it comes…

“Girls, are these leotards…” she began, her brow wrinkling.

I watched the back row with keen interest to see how they would react to the news that was about to befall them.

“…are they… a little sheer?”

The six blindsided girls’ eyes went wide as saucers. They immediately wrapped an arm around their chests and shot a hand between their legs with a gasp, before even looking to see whether the question had any merit, on edge as they already were.

The other girls took this as a cue that they could cover up as well, and adopted the same self-preservation hug.

“Yes, they are a little bit see-through.” Gabby confirmed ruefully with a wavering in her voice as she clutched herself tighter.

“Okay, well, remind me that these will need to be lined before using them!” My aunt laughed flippantly, completely dismissing the embarrassing ordeal the girls had just experienced. “Now Gabby, what were you wanting to say?”

“I wanted to warn you that the Leos were see-through,” Gabby said flatly.
“Ah, well I appreciate the attempted warning, but my heart isn’t that frail, dear!” She laughed, again, missing the point. “Let’s move on to the simple hot pink costume next.”

— —

I can’t begin to imagine how these poor girls must have felt as they began their third strip tease for me. I felt like I detected a collective frustrated groan from them, likely from knowing that including this change, they had to get naked a total of four more times. I couldn’t blame them for being frustrated, but I also couldn’t help but grin. With twelve girls getting changed four more times, the odds were that someone was going to let something slip at some point. I just didn’t know who I was going to see, and what parts. Honestly, to my twelve year old libido, I would have been elated to see any of them in anything less than the leotards I normally saw them in when I visited my aunt. I now knew what all twelve of them looked like naked from behind, and after a few more rounds would probably be able to identify them all by their butts alone… So anything else was just icing on the cake.

This time, my eyes were drawn to a girl second from the left in the back row. A girl with jet-black hair cut in a bob, called Harley. She had, unbelievably, foregone any attempt to cover her backside, opting instead to focus on the task of getting out of the previous leotard and into the next one as efficiently and quickly as possible using both hands. She was right, she was able to shimmy into her new costume while most of the other girls were still fumbling with their prior one. But I’m sure she also hoped that with her being tucked away in the back row, I wouldn’t see what I absolutely ended up seeing. For the first time in my young life, my eyes had been introduced to the soft folds of a real life girl’s private parts. It was only from the rear and shadowed somewhat between her legs, but I could see the most intimate part of this girl. I stared intently as she momentarily widened her stance to lift each leg into the leg holes of the new leotard, marvelling at the elasticity with which the flesh of her labia moved in kinship to the raising and lowering of each leg.

I thrilled at the moment, and hoped with stifled excitement that the other girls would see how “efficient” she was, and follow suit, providing me with more opportunities to learn about these alien parts. I had just seen my first real life girl genitals, and I would never forget what they looked like. But I knew from getting changed at the pool that boys’ genitals weren’t all identical, and now, letting my eyes drift across the stage, I wanted to know if, and how girls varied down there too.

With one girl now dressed, my attention diverted to other girls as they continued their flaky attempts to retain their modesty while getting naked on a stage. My scouting had only progressed two girls along from Harley to Prue before I was rewarded. Prue had her brown hair up in a high ponytail, which flopped this way and that as she juggled the dual tasks of getting legs into a leotard and blocking her bum. In one unanticipated move, Prue accidentally misjudged her step, pressing her raised foot into the fabric rather than a leg hole. She almost toppled sideways as the action caused her to effectively kick her leotard out of her own hand. With a yelp, she lunged after it, momentarily forgetting her priorities and allowing me a moment to enjoy her side profile and slightly jiggling B-cup breast as she stooped to pick up the runaway costume.

The vibrant pink of these latest leotards had an almost fluorescent glow to them, and were unique to the other costume sets thus far in that they had clear shoulder straps, to give the impression that they were strapless. Outside of these features, the design was fairly unremarkable, but having the area above the girls’ armpits exposed was definitely an aesthetically pleasing look.

“Mrs. Abernathy?” Claire timidly asked. She sounded worried, and as I located her, I could see that it wasn’t merely my presence that was the cause this time. The vinyl shoulder straps of her leotard had snapped and the slender redhead held the front of the costume up against her chest with all the force she could muster.

“Oh no, Claire!” My aunt said with concern. “What happened?”
“They… The straps just… broke… when I tried to pull it up”, Claire offered with dismay.

“Here,” my aunt said, stepping forward and reaching out, “Come down here and show me. I need to see if this is a stitching issue, a materials issue, or something else.”

The girl hesitantly shuffled forward, and climbed (again, one-handed) down the front of the stage. She finally broke the facade that I wasn’t there, and eyed me nervously as she came right up to where my aunt was standing, and quite close to where I was sitting. Even if she wanted to ignore me, I was lodged firmly in her periphery now.

My aunt looked across the row of girls for a moment, and then asked them to tug upward on their shoulder straps. She was checking for durability, but as she instructed the girls to tug “a little higher” and “a little harder”, the only thing I was checking was the way this tugged the lower fabric tighter and tighter against their crotches. My aunt seemed completely oblivious to the fact that she was having the eleven remaining girls on stage effectively wedgie themselves, every tug digging a more prominent camel toe into the girls’ fronts. I watched in sheer awe as each girl repeatedly pulled the contour crease of their own privates into and out of view before my eyes.

“Hmm”, my aunt pondered aloud, “Seems to just be yours, Claire. I’ll have our seamstress reinforce your shoulder straps this week.”

With that, and without warning, my aunt proceeded to wrench Claire’s leotard down her body in one fluid motion. Claire made a move to grab for the fabric as it descended down her body, but being caught off guard meant it was out of her reach before her hands acted, and so she quickly moved to shield her privates with a shriek that could probably have been heard from back at my school.

I didn’t have long to process Claire’s nakedness, but boy did I see it. Those deep orangey red pubes really made a point of drawing the eye. And this was an unprecedented (for me) view of what girls hid between their legs. With her legs together, the more intricate inner folds of Claire’s femininity weren’t on show, but I was audience to a close-up presentation of the little division of soft flesh that was her pussy. Claire’s outer lips were almost being squeezed toward me as she pressed her legs tightly together. I was absolutely fascinated at the way that the color of the skin surrounding her genitals shifted gradually to a darker, warmer color the closer it got to her central fold.

And then it was gone as she dramatically dug a hand between her thighs to hide it from me.

“Claire!” My aunt admonished as she recovered from the shriek. “There’s no need for that kind of outburst! You almost blew my eardrums!”

“Sorry Coach.” Came her quiet reply as she looked down at the floor. “What costume should I get changed into next?”

“Just a minute.” My aunt said, before turning her attention back to the rest of the girls on the stage. “Okay girls! Salute!”

The naked Claire, hunched over and covering herself as best she could, was left to awkwardly wait. She allowed herself to glance over at me for a moment, and of course saw my looking right back at her, causing her to swiftly turn away in embarrassment.

It took the flustered redhead a moment to remember to cover her backside. In that interlude, I saw another very specific sight that would for whatever reason stay with me, just as vividly as when I saw it: The pink tips of Claire’s fingers peeking out between her legs from behind, where they remained tucked and holding her privates. I’m not sure why this sight felt so special. Perhaps it was the distilled symbolism of her desperation to hide herself. Maybe it was the intimacy of where those fingers were in that moment. Or it could have been a combination of these things. Whatever it was, it sent a shiver of wonder up my spine.

“Oh shit!” I heard one of the girls whisper from the stage as they all stood with their hands held aloft.

“Who was that?” My aunt asked, the girls all frozen in place. Then I spotted Gabby, whose left breast was almost out due to another strap breakage.

Gabby didn’t say anything, obviously terrified of having to go through what she just witnessed Claire experience.

“It sounded like Gabby?” I whispered to my aunt, nudging her toward making the discovery for herself.

“Oh my goodness, Gabby!” My Aunt said, spotting the problem. “Okay, hands down, girls, and Gabby, come down here.”

Gabby climbed down the front of the stage and made her way over. Not wanting to be stripped by my aunt facing me, she instead took it upon herself when arriving, to turn her back to me and undress herself. The curly brunette’s naked back was now almost within touching distance, and the coziness of this proximity allowed me to better appreciate the finer details of her smallish behind, like the little dimple she had above each buttock.

“Alright!” My aunt exclaimed, clapping her hands and addressing the rest of the girls. “These straps are too risky. But straps aside, I think the pink and white one from earlier looks better on you girls than this all-pink one anyway. I like the shimmer effect this one has under the lights, but it hasn’t got much character other than that. Let’s put this one in the ‘no’ pile.”

While my aunt spoke, I could see the two naked girls fidgeting and wishing she would cut to the chase and tell them what to get dressed into next. They looked so relieved when she gave them the green light to head back up to the stage.

“The Leo with the red and white pattern next, please everyone!”

There were still three outfits to go…

Hope you're enjoying this creative writing experiment. For me, it's been great to find something that pulled me out of writers' block stasis, and made me remember how fun writing can be.

Oh, and if anyone has a better title for what to call an "expansion on a vignette", please let me know!

Part two is below, or you can click here to jump straight to it.

This continuation is amazing! I loved it! I am very excited to read the conclusion!

Finally got around to reading this. Totally awesome! Can't wait for the second half.

Hope the conclusion come soon! I'm dying to know what happens next!

What an excellent use of the vignette / prompt. Thank you!

Thanks for the likes and lovely words of encouragement on part one. Hope you enjoy the conclusion!

It’s strange to think that as the girls started undressing again, I had better things to look at. But it was a sight to behold watching Claire and Gabby’s jiggling behinds as they raced those few steps back to the stage. I tilted my head to gain a better angle as the two girls used the gymnastic strength of their upper bodies to pull themselves back onto the stage while doing their best to keep their legs firmly together. Watching their outstretched nude forms as they raised themselves up was electrifying.

I was sad to see that by the time Claire and Gabby returned to their places in the front row and my attention had returned to the stage at large, most of the girls were already pulling the new suits up their bodies. But what it meant was that all of my attention could go back to Claire and Gabby. Unlike prior occasions where the girls were able to fish around in their costume bags for the next outfit while still wearing the prior one, these two had to crouch down bare naked. Despite a valiant attempt with one hand to retain a small amount of dignity, a sharp word from their coach to hurry and catch up with the rest of the girls, meant they had no time for such efforts. In one beautiful moment, the girls dropped all pretence and hunching over their costume bags began flashing me their vulvas and anuses as they feverishly rushed to find the red and white costume. Prior to that moment, I’d never seen something that felt both obscene yet pretty at the same time. But that’s the only way I could think to define this sight. Obscene yet pretty. Two girls each exposing their two most private holes to me. I blinked a few times, as if trying to capture the sight as my mind’s wallpaper image.

With my aunt having taken the moment to fold and put away Claire and Gabby’s costumes with the broken straps, she had not become aware of the display the girls were putting on, otherwise I’m sure - I’m almost absolutely positive - something would have been said.

“OhmygodCharlieNononono…” came a hasty, quietly pained, almost whispered voice from the stage. It was Fiona, the frizzy haired brunette next to Claire, who must have realized what I was able to see in that moment. As she trailed off, it seemed like she was too shamed by the situation, or didn’t feel that she had the authority to tell me what not to do. I’m not sure exactly, but the words were enough to prompt Claire to turn back and see where I was looking. With a yelp, she shot bolt upright, likely realising what she’d been presenting to me. Meanwhile, Gabby remained obliviously and utterly exposed, so I was able to enjoy a few more moments of her before they had both found the costume in question and were able to pull it on.

The costume was a shiny metallic red from the shoulders down to the top of the breasts, with the rest being matte white. It was a simple but sleek looking design, enhanced by the higher cut of the legs and lower cut under the arms compared to the prior costumes. It showed a lot of skin and most of the girls’ hip bones and sides - a pointedly sexier cut than the other leotards, and a look which every single one of the girls was pulling off flawlessly.

The usual salute and pivot directions my aunt then went through, provided an opportunity for me to see the additional visual benefits of this particular cut. From the sides, the wider and lower cut arm holes provided a tantalising hint of the sides of the girls’ boobs. The higher cut in the legs also showed a lot more butt cheek than prior costumes.

However it was after these usual pivots that things took an unexpected turn, as my aunt was apparently not done with instructions for this particular costume set.

“Aaaaand down into side splits!” She said, prompting the girls to all sink their way down to the floor of the stage, shuffling themselves until their legs reached a full horizontal extension either side of them.

Well, this was new. I looked over at my aunt, who leaned over to me and quietly explained “Sometimes these softer suits with higher leg openings have tendencies of riding up, so it pays to test them out like this”. Her knowledge of fabric and suit-cut behavior was lost on me but I knew what the concept of “riding up” was, and was excited that I was there to witness any undesirable results as it was put through its paces.

My eyes weaved from crotch to crotch, hoping to see evidence of my aunt’s concerns coming into play, but I couldn’t see anything going awry. That is, until my aunt advised the girls to stand up again. As they all straightened up, the true results of the test became clear.

Not one, not six, but all twelve of the girls now had fabric riding into the crease of their privates. I had been lucky enough to see these familiar feminine furrows during the prior tugging exercise, but now these contours weren’t popping in and out of existence, they were just… there. Permanently on display for my eyes. And not one of the girls were moving to fix this.

Another tidbit I learned on our drive home later that evening, was that gymnasts can also lose points for picking a wedgie or adjusting their costumes during a routine, even if they are riding up or at risk of slipping in a way that would expose them. This was another behavior my aunt had worked hard to train into her students; a remarkably strong second-nature discipline against making any sort of unconscious adjustments. “You train as you would compete”, she told me - a mantra I had heard her say many times to the girls.

Not that they weren’t already doing an expert job at keeping their hands off their displaced costumes in this glorious moment. Then again, their faces showed that they were very aware of what had happened, not to mention a deep desire to pull the fabric out of their nooks and crannies. Once again, girls’ bodies were squirming this way and that, trying to reposition the crotches of their leotards without using their hands, in a sexy dance that they knew was futile but couldn’t help but persist with. As they watched me watching them perform this dance, I could see faces reddening in real time. I could even hear little groans escaping with their breaths as the embarrassment and frustration of not being able to fix what should have been so easy to fix, snowballed within each of them.

“Oh drat.” My aunt exhaled as she looked at the display that the girls were making on the stage. “That’s a shame, these are quite striking otherwise. Let’s put them in the ‘Yes’ pile with the caveat that we’ll need to glue them if we use them.”

“Glue them?” I asked, wondering if she meant literally gluing the suits down to their skin.
“Oh, yes,” My aunt said, reaching down into her bag, “this’ll amuse you…”
After fishing around for a moment, my aunt pulled out what looked like a small roll-on deodorant bottle.

“We call this stuff ‘butt glue’.” She said. As she had predicted, I let out a chuckle.
“Butt Glue?!” I scoffed. “Like, glue… for butts?”
“It’s a funny name, I know,” my aunt agreed, “but it’s basically an adhesive specially designed to hold misbehaving leotards in place. Morgan!” She suddenly shouted, “Come down here a second!”

A girl with golden blonde hair tied up in a cute white ribbon, stiffened to attention second from the end in the back row. With a look of severe trepidation, Morgan made her way to the front of the stage. She moved slowly, as she evidently didn’t want to disturb her costume any further - I almost choked as I saw that the left lip of her labia was on the verge of slipping out entirely!

When she got to the front of the stage, she very carefully lifted herself down. She couldn’t see herself from the angle I could, but it was clear she could feel the precipice that the leg band was teetering on. She made her way over to us in an awkward tiptoe, trying to casually block my view of her crotch with one of her hands, and looked to her coach with a clear sense of trepidation as she spotted the butt glue she was holding.

“You can fix your costume dear” my aunt instructed Morgan, who wasted no time in doing so. “I’m just going to show Charlie how the glue works if you don’t mind demonstrating?”
Morgan froze. “Uhh…” was all she said, apparently not sure if my aunt was actually asking her if she would be willing, or if she was just politely framing an instruction.
“Okay, spin your tushie around here and hold the fabric out for me?” My aunt asked as she crouched down by Morgan, readying the bottle of adhesive.

Okay, this was really happening!

“Mrs. Abernathy?” Fiona asked.
“Yes, Fiona?”
“Can we please fix our costumes too?”
“No,” my aunt said plainly after a moment’s consideration. “This will be good discipline practice for you all.”

The girls let out a collective frustrated sigh and tried to fight their urge to continue squirming about. The reason Fiona had been the one to voice this request became very apparent as I spotted her costume’s right leg hole in a similar teetering position to where Morgan’s was just a moment ago. With the instruction to not adjust it, all she could do is watch me watching her intently, as she felt the elastic slowly slipping of its own accord. She valiantly bit her lip as the band rolled into her feminine divide, burying itself deep and securely. The entire right lip of her pussy was out, and she knew it. She closed her eyes and I could see the fingers of her right hand twitching as she waited for the permission to cover herself up that she so desperately desired.

I could have stared at this forever, but then things started happening in my immediate vicinity.

Morgan turned away from us, bending a little and tugging the leg hole open just a fraction, to expose a little of her left buttock. My aunt moved closer with the roll on, and then withdrew.
“A little further out, Morgan,” she said, “I can’t quite get in there.”
Morgan looked up to the ceiling in mortified resignation and drew a deep breath as she pulled the elastic about two inches further out from her body. I marvelled at the fact that I was so close I could now make out the tiny peach fuzz hairs on her toned globes. My aunt reached out with her free hand and assisted Morgan in stretching the fabric even further still. She maintained the hold, ensuring Morgan couldn’t rein it back in.

Morgan flinched slightly as the cold wet ball of the roll-on made contact, and I watched as my aunt painted a thorough coating of the glue across the part of her rump that the costume was supposed to cover.

A bold, mischievous thought suddenly crossed my mind.

“How sticky is it?” I asked with an innocent tone.
“Here, try touching it”, my aunt said casually, holding out the end of the roll-on toward me.
“Noooo!” Morgan shrieked, jumping away and spinning around to face us.

As Morgan leapt and twirled, the undercarriage of the leotard, still hooked in my aunt’s hand, was wrenched to one side before leaving her grip. For a few seconds, Morgan seemed not to realise that she was “out”. And not just a lip on the edge this time - the leotard had completely bunched to one side, exposing her full pussy lips to me. There was even a few little blonde hairs peeking out from the visible part of her mons. When Morgan finally noted where I was looking and realized her state of indecency, her hands couldn’t have moved faster to fix the bare-all wardrobe malfunction.

Realizing how Morgan had misinterpreted what was happening with my aunt’s offer for me to touch the glue, my aunt let out an uproarious laugh. As Morgan looked back at us from readjusting her crotch covering and pieced together what was actually going on, she immediately went into apology overdrive. It was kind of bonkers to see her apologising like this immediately after having her privates exposed, but nothing was making sense to me in that moment, so I just let it wash over me and continued to enjoy another vibrant, embarrassed face.

“Relax, Morgan, relax!” My aunt insisted hastily, composing herself again for the more pressing issue at hand. She gestured for Morgan to return to where she was standing before. “Come back here, you’re going to end up with the leotard glued in the wrong position.”

Morgan re-approached and spun her buns to face us again. I watched my aunt swiftly lift the leotard into place herself, with no protest from Morgan as she did so. I wondered for a moment whether there might be some world in which I could be dubbed the team’s official butt glue technician.

“Other side now please Morgan”, my aunt requested, and Morgan swivelled her body to present the other cheek for gluing.

Watching the glue rolling around and around on Morgan’s bum was hypnotic - I could have zenned out to it all afternoon.

“Normally you would give it a good five minutes to ‘set’ a little,” My aunt explained as she finished with the glue and began pressing the fabric firmly against her buttocks. “It’s the most tacky when it’s set, but it works fairly well while still wet too. We’ll just give it a minute or so.”

While we waited, I had a chance to look back up at the stage. I could immediately see that Fiona, Elena and Gabby in the front row had all adjusted their costumes while we were preoccupied with Morgan. I blurted this out to my aunt before I had a chance to think about how this may have reflected upon my innocent persona, but fortunately it seemed that the girls’ infraction overshadowed my apparent photographic memory of their crotches.

“Girls!” my aunt shouted. “Unacceptable! All of you, ten high kick stretches with each leg! I want to see straight legs and toes pointed sky high with each lift! Now!”

The girls on the stage all began pointing their legs skyward in front of them, first one, then the other. Within a couple of reps, the girls who had dared try to fix their leotards found themselves back in very precarious states of coverage.

“Sorry to those of you who were being well disciplined,” my aunt said as the girls continued to kick their way into more intense wedgies, “you can blame the other girls for not being team players.”

By the time the girls had finished, catching their breath and resuming their well-postured stances, the state of leotards were in even further disarray than before. Repeatedly raising and lowering each leg had guided both leg holes inward, nudging the fabric from each side to wedgie in between the folds of their privates. Practically all of the girls now had little more than a thin bunched strip of material between their legs, resting in the crevice of their otherwise exposed labia.

My aunt instructed Morgan to perform side splits again, which she now proceeded to do with complete confidence - a testament to the glue. And sure enough, her confidence was not misplaced. Gone was the prior fabric creep. I made a sound to suggest I was impressed, but this was by far one of the least impressive sights I’d had the pleasure of seeing that day.

“Alright, thank you Morgan.” My aunt said. “You can head back up to the stage now, but leave the Leo with me so I can get it cleaned.”
“Leave it… here?” Morgan asked, hoping she had misunderstood.
“It’s got glue on it, dear,” my aunt reasoned, almost amused by the idea that Morgan seemed confused. She held out a hand to collect the leotard. “It needs to be cleaned… this isn’t anything new - you know this! Now come on, you’re holding everyone up!”

Morgan let out a whimper as she hooked her thumbs under the shoulder straps and lifted them up, then down her shoulders. She paused to swivel away again, before pulling the leotard the rest of the way down her slender body. I smiled as she did her darnedest to hide what we both knew I’d already seen, and I almost openly laughed at the loud “SHHHLUP!” sound that the fabric made as it peeled away from her glue-coated behind. When it was off, she half crouched and half turned back to face us in order to be able to hand the costume to my aunt. Whatever instinct she had to adopt this pose, it did nothing to hide her perky breasts from me - really the only part of her I hadn’t gotten a clear look at by that point. Her nipples had a warm, rosy hue to them, the color much more pronounced than they had looked through the slightly sheer leotard earlier, and only just beaten in vibrance by the blush of her face. As soon as my aunt had taken hold of the leotard, Morgan scurried back to the stage.

Morgan’s backside glistened as the glue all over it caught the stage lights. I swear, I’m not traditionally what you’d call a “butt guy”, but in retrospect, this particular afternoon of events and this retelling of them really make it sound like the fates were trying to make me one.

I definitely found a much bigger appreciation for them on that day, that’s for sure.

My aunt turned her attention back to the girls on stage, still standing red-faced and embarrassed, with their hands by their sides and the pudgy lips of their genitals still obscenely squashed out either side of their frontal wedgies. She took a few moments to run her gaze across everyone, to make sure none of them had repeated the sin of adjusting their costumes while she was tending to Morgan. I happily did the same. It seemed there was no sneaky adjustments made this time, though it was clear each girl was now positively itching to be given permission to remedy their uncomfortable exposure.

“Right! Time to try the green leotard, my lovelies!” My aunt finally sang as Morgan sank back into the back row.

— —

The girls were by this point not only sporting flushed faces, but they were also physically sweating. It hadn’t dawned on me at the time, but in addition to performing salutes and other routine pieces in between repeatedly dressing and undressing, they were also putting immense strain on their leg muscles, constantly squeezing them together as they got changed, in order to ensure nothing would be accidentally flashed between them.

The green leotard was loud and garishly sparkly. To paint a vivid picture, it was emerald green, and visually provided the answer to the question ‘What if I gave a rhinestone applicator the biggest orgasm of its life and it finished on my chest?’

It seemed that by this fifth costume change, my earlier hopes were coming true for the girls to become a little more revealing as they got changed. Though admittedly it was fate and outside forces that were the reason, rather than any change in level of comfort from the girls. No, they were all still very much barely coping with this Groundhog Day of exposure. They were all just as embarrassed and desperate to get back into a dressed state as soon as possible, but despite their desires to finish the race, unexpected circumstances were throwing hurdles in front of them to trip over.

As well as exhaustion clearly setting in for all of the girls, Morgan now had the additional problem of a glue covered posterior, which was catching and trying to adhere to every part of the new leotard that it came into contact with as she tried to get it up her body and into place. And although it was fun to watch her writhing and wrestling about trying to cover up her nakedness, by the time she was done, there was still someone else not yet dressed to whom I could turn my attention.

At the extreme right of the stage, a shapely strawberry blonde I knew to be called Addison, was starting to have something of a minor freak-out, as she tried to wrench the latest garment up and over her gloriously round butt cheeks. Addison was not a particularly large girl by any means, but it had become incredibly clear that this leotard was not the same size as the other ones she had been trying on, and in fact would have been several sizes too small for her to be able to fit into. Still, the panic of not yet being able to get herself covered up again was putting her in a state of anxious irrationality. And as such, she continued to repeatedly tug and pull with desperation (and clear futility) on the snug, unbudging leotard. Her buttocks clenched and jiggled and jostled this way and that as she frantically tried to hide herself away, to no avail.

Putting two and two together, my eyes snapped across to the far left of the stage, to check in on Lilly, the most petite of the girls by quite a margin. Lilly’s face was obscured by the ringlets of her dark hair as she looked down her body, surveying a leotard that was, sure enough, a good few sizes too large. The fabric hung loosely on her body, with the rumpled crotch dangling a couple of inches down from where it should have been snugly holding her undercarriage. I let my mind entertain the thought for a moment that nobody would address this. The idea that my aunt would instruct the girls to salute, pivot, and perhaps even perform a few other stretching exercises. Having Lilly’s free-floating leotard leg holes providing little peeks at her privates as she moved, and Addison performing the same exercises with a bunched leotard around the underside of her buttocks, forfeiting virtually any mystery about her naked body.

But that was never going to happen; their predicament was impossible to miss, and my aunt was already on the case.

“Addison, stop!” My aunt said with concern as she witnessed Addison’s frenetically violent wrenching now causing a couple of the rhinestones to become unstuck from the costume and fall to the stage. “You’re going to tear the costume if you keep that up! There’s clearly been a mix up when we packed these, and you and Lilly have each other’s Leos for this one.”

Addison looked up for the first time since stepping into the outfit, and saw Lilly across the other side of the stage.

“Well go on,” My aunt urged, clapping her hands a couple of times, “Tick-tock! Switch! Switch!”

Addison stood frozen to the spot, unsure how she was supposed to make her way over to Lilly in this state in a dignified manner, leaving Lilly to trot across the stage and meet her at the front. Knowing they were already leaving their coach and the rest of their team waiting, they started undressing again, in order to make the exchange.

“Oh, Charlie,” My aunt asked, “Could you be a dear and reach up and grab those stray rhinestones from the stage before they get kicked somewhere? I’ll need to have them reapplied. I can see one near the edge of the stage there…” she said, helpfully pointing in front of the two girls currently in undress mode.

“Uhm, yyyeah, sure, just let me put my school bag… over here…” I stalled, as I quickly adjusted my excited state into a less visible bulge beneath the bag before removing it from my lap.

Lilly turned to face the back of the stage, eyeing me with intense unease as I approached them. With such a tight fit and intense tugging, Addison meanwhile was now struggling to work the overstretched suit back down her thighs, and began making little exasperated sounds that exuded her frustration and embarrassment. This left Lilly fully undressed, and as she waited eagerly for Addison to provide her with something to change into, she shifted Addison’s balled up leotard around behind her to shield her buttocks from my barely subtle upward gaze. But not before I had plenty of time to commit those cute bubble buns to memory.

Finally, Addison was able to start dislodging the suit down from her upper thighs, though it was taking both hands to do so, as well as the need to bend forward a little. I let slip an audible gasp as she accidentally tilted herself just enough for her to reveal her butt hole to me, before she clenched her buttocks and it was gone again from view.

I went through the motions of performing a sweep-search of the stage area in front of me with my hands while Addison continued to lower the leotard. I kept my eyes mainly to the stage, to legitimise my being there, but of course I was glancing up from time to time.

The next time I did this, Addison had exposed her anus yet again, giving me a few more seconds to take a mental snapshot of her butt hole before she straightened up once more. She parted her legs a little to allow the garment to finally drop to her ankles, and I had a brief opportunity to gaze up between her slightly parted legs. Alas, she was acutely aware of my vantage point and had one hand tightly curled over her pussy. She stepped out of the leotard, straightening up as soon as she realized her potentially compromising position. At last, she could cover herself up with the correct sized leotard. With no time to waste, she put one hand behind her (almost as a formality now rather than serving any practical shielding purpose) and crouched to collect Lilly’s suit so that they could make the exchange. All the time, Lilly was eyeing me anxiously and shifting her weight from one foot to the other in a nervous bouncing motion.

“The other rhinestone’s there,” Gabby said, pointing with her foot to where it had bounced and landed in front of her. She, like the rest of the girls, wanted me done with my task and away from the stage. I had been sparing in my clandestine glances upward, but I’m guessing Gabby had spotted me unglue my downward-cast eyes on at least one occasion.
“Thanks” I said, snatching up the runaway rhinestone and quickly resuming my position in front of Lilly and Addison. “I think I heard a third one drop though,” I lied as an excuse to hang around some more.
“It was just two”, Gabby assured me.
“No, I’m sure there was another one that fell over here somewhere,” I insisted. “Won’t hurt to look”, I said, doing my best to mock search while subtly taking occasional glances up at the nude girls again.

Addison had meanwhile stood back up from removing the ill-fitting leotard, and was holding Lilly’s leotard out to her side for Lilly to take. Lilly kept one hand behind her (again, doing little to cover more than her left ass cheek) and brought the other hand containing Addison’s leotard back around to her front, holding it in her direction. This left them in a position where they didn’t have any free hand to take their own leotard from the other person. For a few seconds, just wanting this to be over, they tried to make the exchange with the one hand, until my aunt prompted them to stop messing around. With a defeated sigh, the girls completely dropped their guards and relinquished the shielding position of their unencumbered hands in favour of getting the whole exchange ordeal done with, once and for all.

“I’m positive I heard another one drop around here…” I said, continuing my facade as I stole glimpses upward.

Addison and Lilly untangled their leotards, and finally worked the outfits into place over their beautiful bodies. Addison was relieved, however I could see Lilly’s shoulders sink in anguish as she looked down at her front.

I could tell from the back what the source of her woes were, as it was clear how loose and baggy this suit had now become. I listened as Lilly, in a wavering voice, explained to my aunt that it seemed Addison’s tugging with reckless abandon had broken or unthreaded the elastic of the leg holes. This left her costume susceptible to a wardrobe malfunction I very much wanted to see her have to demonstrate.

But I couldn’t be that lucky, right?

“How broken are we talking?” My aunt asked, taking half a step forward. There was a pause, suggesting that Lilly didn’t know quite how to answer the question. When the answer wasn’t forthcoming, my aunt said “Come down here and give me a look”.

Lilly’s whole body visibly flinched at the words. It took her a second, but to her credit, she pulled herself together and stepped forward to the edge of the stage, with one hand over her crotch. How bad was it that she needed to cover her crotch when she stepped forward, I wondered excitedly.

“Huh. Maybe there were only two rhinestones after all,” I said, turning to walk back over to my aunt with the gems in hand alongside Lilly.

Gabby didn’t even bother with an “I tried to tell you there were only two” - she could see exactly what game I was playing.

Lilly almost had a fall from the stage trying to climb down one-handed, but recovered well. Her eyes locked with mine as we both approached my aunt, perhaps taking a new tactic of trying to guilt me into looking away. I handed the rhinestones over to my aunt and resumed my seat, quickly returning my schoolbag to my lap. When I looked up and noticed Lilly was still trying to stare me down, I lowered my head in response, but not so much that I couldn’t still see her lower half. It was likely she knew I was still eyeing off her lower body, but it didn’t matter either way as we probably both knew my faux courtesy nod wouldn’t last.

My aunt crouched in front of Lilly and without any words exchanged it was obvious what Lilly had to do. I watched her pull her hand out from where it was nestled tightly between her legs, making a concerted effort not to disturb how she had the fabric tucked in snug against her undercarriage. Of course, she was only delaying the inevitable next instruction.

“Let’s see the damage then, Lilly. Legs apart a little, please.”

“Can we do it later?” Lilly asked desperately.
“Later? We’re here right now,” My aunt reasoned, “That would be a waste of time, which we are fast running out of this evening.”
“But… Charlie…” Lilly whispered. I’m not sure why she whispered as I was still well within earshot.
My aunt looked over at me, my head still lowered as I pretended to look for something in my school bag.
“What is it with you girls and Charlie?” My aunt asked in bemusement.
I used the opportunity to look back up. “Hmm?” I asked as if I had been tuned out this whole time. “Did you want me?”
“No, honey, you go back to whatever you’re doing.” She said, before returning her attention straight back to Lilly. “See? He’s not even interested. And even if he was, it shouldn’t phase you.”

My aunt stood back up, raising her voice to extend the rest of her diatribe to all of the girls and not just Lilly. “What we’re doing here is important, girls. We’re trying to decide on the new Leo you’re all wearing to the gym meet - how you’re all going to be presented to everyone there. You’ll be performing in front of potentially hundreds… But right now, you’re all getting shaken by my nephew! Now I don’t want to hear another word about Charlie from any of you until we’re done here! And no more of this interminably slow changing ritual, we simply don’t have the time for it anymore. You’re not going to be trying to cover yourself or turn away from the judges, or the crowd, are you?”

The room was frostily silent.

“Are you?” She repeated firmly.
“No, Coach…”, the girls squeamishly responded.
“Right. You train as you would compete. Understood?”
“Yes, Coach…” came the dispirited response from the girls.
“Okay. I don’t want to have to bring this up again.” She said, allowing a moment of silent reflection to pass.

I slowly allowed my head to raise again, and could see that my aunt had now returned her attention to Lilly. Lilly had locked eyes with my aunt and was evidently back to the tactic of doggedly trying to pretend I didn’t exist. I had been so caught up in the laying of the law by my aunt that I had also completely missed the fact that Lilly was also now standing with her legs a shoulder width apart, and I was finally able to see the extent of damage to the leg holes of the costume. The crotch of the costume hung loosely to where there was a clear opening through which I would be able to see her exposed, bare privates, if I could just get myself to the right angle. However, frustratingly, it would mean getting out of my chair and drawing attention to what I was doing, painting me as the perverted boy that the girls apparently wanted my aunt to see me as.

My aunt stooped down again to examine the extent of the damage. She squinted at the loose fabric that looped its way under Lilly’s crotch area.

“Does it still have elasticity or is it completely loose?” My aunt asked with a returned balance of quiet concern.
“I… I- I… I don’t know…?” Lilly quietly stammered, rising in pitch to a wispy squeak as she watched my aunt gingerly hooking a finger into the slack.

And then, without a modicum of concern for Lilly’s blushing red embarrassment, my aunt tugged the crotch of the leotard out and away from where it had been draped loosely in front of her privates. She had literally pulled back the curtain to where I now had an unobstructed view of Lilly’s hairless pussy. The detail I could make out in such close proximity was almost too much for my overstimulated hormones to handle at this stage. This was such an unexpected opportunity that my brain was swimming, and I made no effort to hide the tilting of my body and head to get the best view possible. I openly gaped at the soft pinkish fold of her girlish secrets. I think I might have even stopped breathing for a minute when I noticed a small area of stubble on the lower part of her pubic mound that she had apparently missed when last shaving. These were the kind of unexpected, intricate little details that would pepper and enhance my future night time fantasies.

Lilly was no longer looking at me with any perceivable intent of guilting me into looking away. It was too late for that. Now, she stood with her eyes tightly closed. Forget trying to pretend I wasn’t there, Lilly was trying to pretend she wasn’t there. But she was reminded by a number of small tugs at her crotch of exactly where she was, as my aunt stress-tested the elastic. Lilly punctuated each little tug with a series of soft, staccato squeals that she tried to stifle with a hand to her mouth.

“Okay, I can’t see any fabric damage,” my aunt mumbled, “The leg elastic has broken in multiple places though, which is why it’s all floppy like this. The good news is that I think our seamstress should be able to repair it.”

I knew where this was going now. If only Lilly had come to terms with what was to happen next, I’m sure she would have turned away. But she still had her eyes closed and couldn’t see it coming.

My aunt reached up and grabbed the shoulder straps of the leotard, rolling them off Lilly’s shoulders and pulling her only covering to the floor. Lilly’s eyes shot open as she felt her only covering slide down her body. Much like Claire earlier, she was caught off-guard for a second before her hands went to work.

“Ahh!” She sang, squashing her breasts with her left arm and slapping a hand over her vulva.

“Alright, back to the stage now,” my aunt said with zero emotion, not even looking at Lilly as she tended to folding the latest leotard and putting it away with the others she had collected.

Lilly scampered back over to the stage and shakily lifted herself up in a more hastened fashion than the prior girls had, allowing her legs to part and flash me her girlish secrets once again. She looked incredibly clumsy, but no amount of clumsiness was going to make Lilly flashing her pussy anything less than hot as all hell.

“Home stretch now, girls. Time for the last costume.” My aunt declared. The girls didn’t look all that relieved at the news, presumably as this was in essence their notice to strip naked again. And this time, after their Coach’s recent scolding of them, they knew they would need to display expedience over modesty. Not wanting to waste a second, they all dove into their bags to retrieve the final piece of attire.

As Lilly took her place at the back left of the stage behind Claire and crouched to find the new suit, Claire and Fiona shuffled to block my view of the naked girl, not wanting me to bear witness to yet another girl’s “obscene yet pretty” presentation. How rude of them!

— —

“Now this one will obviously require some lining underneath if we go ahead with it, as there are a lot of open areas,” my aunt forewarned as the girls pulled out the last new costume set of the day. “The seamstress ran out of time to put the lining in just yet, but I asked her to include the costumes as-is, because this will still give us an idea of how it looks. If it doesn’t look any good and we decide not to use them, we won’t bother with the cost and time in getting them lined.”

As my aunt spoke, the girls puzzled over the final outfit. It looked like it was in tatters; a tangle of black bands which when worn would make a lot more sense, wrapping over the body in a spider web-like structure. I almost squealed with delight at the costume! It really didn’t matter if they were able to expertly guard themselves while getting changed this final time; without lining underneath, there was no doubt I would be able to glimpse all sorts of stuff when they were wearing this!

The girls turned the costume this way and that, trying to work out which bands were merely visual design flair, and which bands were the functional ones that served as the frame of the costume. They all looked so panicked at how revealing this was going to be, but as a few of them found the right orientation for the costume, it became clearer that the design had larger black areas that would cover their breasts and genitals.

Rats. Well, there was still plenty of possibility for wardrobe malfunctions, I figured.

“This one’s too fiddly to try and put on one-handed, girls,” My aunt said as she predicted what would no doubt happen as soon as the girls deemed themselves ready to switch costumes. “Let’s just get over this extreme modesty hullabaloo and put this one on properly please. We’re running out of time.”

I was expecting more of a visceral reaction to this suggestion, but it became apparent that the girls were too preoccupied with the puzzle in front of them to really give what their coach had said any consideration.

When a few of the girls had oriented themselves with the garment, they began their nervous, reluctant-as-ever undressing. I was struck with the sad thought that this was to be the last time the girls would need to strip off in front of me, so I watched with a renewed determination.

Sure enough, this outfit with all its open areas and confusing design, was proving a lot more difficult for the girls to get into one-handed. Girls who thought they had it figured out had hastily tugged off their prior costumes only to find that - just as they had been warned - trying to navigate this new one with only one hand ended up reducing what they were holding back into nothing more than a jumble of tangled straps.

Suddenly, a familiar sound cut through the air.

SHHHLUP!

The sound of Morgan peeling her prior costume off of her glue-covered backside.

“Oh my gosh! Morgan!” My aunt exclaimed. “I can’t believe I had you get glue on another costume! Bring me that one, hun, I’m going to need to get it washed as well. And before I forget again, don’t get into the last one, otherwise it’ll need to be cleaned too! It would be a nightmare trying to get into it while covered in glue anyway.”

“Can I just put this back on while I get my clothes then?” Morgan asked, already starting to work the prior leotard back up past her sticky bottom.

“Morgan! Stop that!” My aunt yelled. “The last thing we need is another overstretched rhinestone costume requiring repairs! Take it off and hand it here!”

My aunt was now clearly getting agitated by the numerous hold-ups the girls were causing.

“What can I wear though?” Morgan whined, “Our clothes are at the back of the room!”

The whining tone hit like nails on a chalkboard to my aunt. “You can wear nothing, Morgan!” she exploded, “And you can stand there facing me with your arms at your sides and wait patiently until we’re done here!”

Morgan’s body went as still as a statue, a panic paralysis setting in at the instruction she’d just been given.

“Now, Morgan!” My aunt shouted, “Get that thing off, bring it to me, and then stand there with your arms at your sides. You’ve got ten seconds.”

Everybody stopped what they were doing as Morgan’s fate was sealed and she began quickly pulling her costume off. Obviously the girls would have been quietly hoping all this time that the occasional flash of nudity was the limit of what they would be expected to put on show in front of me. But Morgan had just been dealt the reality that the rest of the girls had doubtlessly been quietly fearing. Morgan was being asked to stand facing me, naked and with arms by her sides, until it was time to get dressed. Any one of them could be next - we all knew it.

There was no further possibility of modesty for Morgan. There was just a moment’s hesitation as she took a deep, pained breath, before she turned on her feet to face me. She crouched just a little and held the green rhinestoned costume in front of her as she hurried to the front of the stage. Her efforts to try and use it as a final few seconds of last-resort shielding only served to build my suspense of the fact that she was about to have nothing at all with which to cover.

“Just toss it to me and get back into place.” My aunt instructed, not willing to waste any more time with waiting for her to climb off and onto the stage again.

I could see Morgan internally wrestling with throwing the only piece of clothing she had at hand into the abyss.

And then, with a scrunched up face, Morgan relinquished her leotard, tossing it off the stage and leaving herself without a stitch on. The dramatic pose she struck as she threw the costume, her arms outstretched as the material left her fingers and unveiled her full naked form, served as a silent fanfare celebrating the moment - a moment which will live in my mind rent-free for all time. Her breasts jiggled at the movement, and continued to jiggle as she brought her hands down and ran back to her spot. And yes, she did exactly as she had been instructed when she got back to her spot, turning to face us with her arms by her sides.

This prolonged, uninterrupted sight of Morgan’s complete nudity was fucking beautiful.

For the rest of the girls who were lucky enough to still be facing the back of the stage, but stunned and terrified by what had just happened, getting into the new costume in a timely manner now became much more of a vital objective. Like a switch had been flipped, the last of the girls who hadn’t already, found the aggressive nudge that they needed to relinquish the prior costume, leaving them all naked and trying to reacquire their bearings with the unusual final costume set. Though they had made it past the threshold of removing the green leotard, all but Harley were still unwilling to uncover their rears and use more than one hand to try and get into the new one.

Harley, who had of course learned the immense dexterity advantages of two-handed changing earlier, was now reaping the benefits of that lesson. She was the only one who looked even remotely close to being able to step into the new outfit. I revelled in the benefits I was also reaping from her lesson. Namely, some more cheeky unguarded peeks between her legs! And with Morgan off to the side standing completely naked and uncovered, my eyes were darting around so much I thought they would soon start smoking and catch fire from being overworked.

My aunt was, by this point, looking very, very annoyed. This night of trying out new leotards was already destined to be a long one, and with the awkward one-handed dance that most of the girls were still persisting with, she was probably now feeling like it was never going to end. This latest performance of their wilful fumbling by virtue of their (in her opinion) misplaced modesty, had become too much of a heated issue for my aunt, and it was time for her to finally reach boiling point.

“Girls, stop! All of you, stop what you’re doing!” She shouted. The girls paused. With Harley being the only one to have so far successfully pulled her suit into place enough to be hiding her lower regions, there was a lot of nudity to take in. But there was about to be much more of a show on that stage.

“Hands to your sides and face me, NOW!” My exasperated aunt instructed the girls.

I couldn’t believe it.

The girls couldn’t believe it.

But belief aside… The whole regiment - the other eleven girls - all spun around. The girls were stood for the first time as a full group, naked as the day they were born, and - finally - facing me. Even the lower coverage that Harley had at that point managed, rolled down her body and fell to her feet, exposing her full body once more as she brought her hands to her sides. Claire and Fiona were the only ones to have not completely obeyed their coach, and held their hands in front of themselves, trying to casually block their crotches from my view. But my aunt wasn’t having a moment of it, shouting their names loudly and causing the startled pair to sheepishly snap their hands to their sides as well. The two of them closed their eyes knowing full well that their antics had only served to draw my attention specifically to them.

I couldn’t tell you what words came next from my aunt’s mouth. It was almost definitely a short but impassioned lecture on why as performance athletes, they needed to stop being so precious and guarded about their bodies in front of one little boy. Certainly something along those lines. But I didn’t hear a word of it. My aural synapses had shut down. All of my sensory energy had been diverted to my eyes. Watching. Exploring. Examining.

Twelve naked girls. Twelve unbelievably gorgeous naked girls. Twelve girls’ vulvas. Six with pubic hair. Six completely hairless. Twenty-four boobs. Two larger sets. Six medium sets. Four smaller sets. All perfection.

I began to become more attuned to my aunt’s words again when I heard my name being mentioned.

“Charlie, would you mind helping me out?” She asked.

“Uh, sure?” I said, wondering where this was going.

“Can you go stand up on the stage over to the left near Claire there please?” She asked.

I blinked at her, thinking I must have missed something. “Up onto the stage?” I queried, pointing in Claire’s direction.

“Sorry hun,” she said, “I know you didn’t ask to be dragged into this. It won’t take long.”

I let my schoolbag drop to the floor and walked over toward Claire in a daze. What was going on?

I reached the stage and made a genuine attempt to scale the edge, but I wasn’t the athletic type and didn’t have the upper body strength that the girls had. This would have proved embarrassing for me, but then there were a bunch of girls standing nude on stage, so the bar for embarrassment had been kind of skewed.

“Claire and Fiona,” my aunt said, “can you please give Charlie a hand getting up?”

It was clear that Claire and Fiona would need to assist me, much to their dismay. The naked redhead and brunette kneeled down and the three of us worked to get me up onto the stage. Well actually, I don’t know how much help I was, since I was mostly distracted at the incredible compromising positioning Claire and Fiona’s bodies were put into while squatting and lifting me toward them. I’ll be honest, as soon as I saw the pink flourishes of their partially spread vulvas between their opened, splayed legs, I may have gone completely ragdoll.

Once I was on the stage and I had regained my land-legs, Claire and Fiona stepped back into the front row, with Fiona’s hands instinctively going to cover herself up again before she realized what she was doing and brought them back to her sides. Both girls exchanged a look with me - their eyes screaming “oh god, what did I just show you?” and my glassy wide-eyed expression giving them a very concise answer.

“Okay,” my aunt said, “I’m going to have Charlie walk around the stage to make sure you’re aware of his presence. This single twelve year old should not have one iota of effect on your confidence. Now continue getting into the final costume.”

I looked along the row of naked girls to my left, and then across to the row behind me as they resumed trying to untangle their costumes, this time with their bodies completely exposed to me. This was insane.

“Go on, Charlie. Just walk around,” My aunt insisted.

Walking suddenly felt strange, like I was only partly in control of my legs and partly on autopilot. I weaved among the girls, my eyes wandering all over them, and their eyes all looking at the floor.

“Girls!” My aunt said, “Lift the leotards up in front of you. You’re never going to untangle them hunched over like that.”

The girls lifted the leotards higher as instructed, which had them standing less hunched over, and brought the young boy walking among them more easily into their periphery. As I walked in front of them, there would be the occasional brief moment of eye contact with me, and I could see flickers of recognition registering on their faces as I did. Cute, blushing recognition.

As I walked, I could feel my excited erection rubbing against the inside of my pants, and had to slow down my walking as I realized the unintentional stimulation was becoming too much. I could masturbate all I wanted about this for the rest of my life, and would have plenty of vivid memories to pull from - for now though, I needed to keep from getting too excited.

Easier said than done when taking a stroll through a field of naked sporty teenaged girls. A twelve year old boy’s trigger-happy genitals weren’t built ready for this level of teasing. Still, somehow, I found a pace that would keep me under control, but I could also tell that my underwear was going to be utterly soaked with precum by the time this was over.

Slowing down was allowing for more prolonged looks at each girl as I wandered. Bare shoulders, breasts and bellies glistened with sweat as the young gymnasts lifted their legs and twisted their bodies this way and that, wrangling the labyrinthine leotard.

Harley was the first to get her costume on, followed by Prue, then one by one the rest of the girls got there, until the only person left for me to ogle was the costumeless Morgan. I stopped in front of her.

My aunt wasted no time, instructing them to salute the very moment they were all ready to do so. The girls all shot their hands into the air. The upward stretching of the girls’ bodies had the unexpected consequence of causing all of their nipples to be lifted above the little zones of coverage that the incomplete suit provided.

Morgan gasped as she instinctively raised her hands too, despite currently standing devoid of any costume, and with me standing directly in front of her. I was shocked at seeing how her smallish breasts effectively disappeared as she stretched her body upwards. When she realized that she probably wasn’t expected to join in with this, she quickly dropped her hands back down, but this secondary movement only served to draw my aunt’s attention.

“No, that was good, Morgan,” she said, “commendable team spirit! You may as well join them. Resume your salute!”

I heard Morgan let out a little sigh of regret, as she raised her arms again, and watched me watching her boobs vanish.

“Arms to your sides!” My aunt instructed. As the girls lowered their arms, only around half of the girls had their nipples fall back behind the covering that the costume offered, with the rest finding the peaks of their breasts catching on the top edge of the shielding and remaining perched there.

“And quarter pivot! Quarter pivot! Quarter pivot! Quarter pivot!”

As the girls pivoted, the ones whose nipples were catching above the shielding made efforts to shift heavy on their feet, in an attempt to dislodge their peeking perkies. It worked for all but Prue and Lilly. While it was disappointing to have all these nipples hidden again, it was fun to see the bounce properties of all these different sets of breasts as they made their sharp movements.

And Morgan’s unencumbered breasts… there was a whole different appeal watching these movements with a completely naked girl. Her boobs might have been small, but they still had a very fun little jiggle each time she moved.

“Mrs. Abernathy!” Morgan abruptly shouted, almost scaring me out of my own clothes. “Charlie’s not walking around anymore, he’s just staring at me!”

“That’s what an audience does, Morgan,” my aunt responded, “you need to get used to it. It’s not a big deal!”

Morgan turned her attention to me, now pleading with her face for me to move on and stand in front of someone else. But her and I both knew that my aunt would be expecting me to keep staring at her now, at least for a bit longer, to make her point. I mouthed the word “sorry” to Morgan, and at least let my eyes wander to some of the other girls around me.

It must have felt excruciating as the girls waited for my aunt’s verdict on this final leotard, as she paced back and forth. I could see that some of the girls were even literally holding their breaths waiting to be told they could go and get dressed.

“This is tough,” my aunt said eventually, “I think this one will look good with the lining underneath, but not sure it’s worth our seamstress rushing through for this meet. Maybe for the next meet though...”

There was a long pause, and I could see the girls begging with their eyes to be given permission to end their torture. I took the opportunity to begin walking around again.

“So the shortlist we’ve narrowed it down to for this meet are the pink and white one, the blue and gold one, and the red and white one…” my aunt deliberated for an excruciatingly long time. Finally, she spoke again, but it was not at all what anyone expected.

“Let’s go back through the finalists. Pink and white one first, girls.”

The girls stared back at their coach in disbelief. They had to get naked again? But… their humiliation was supposed to be over!

“Now, girls,” my aunt said, clapping her hands together again to try and get things moving, “We’re almost there. We just need to narrow it down to a winner. The quicker we rotate through these, the quicker I’ll be able to choose. Except you, Morgan, you can stay as you are, obviously.”

The girls looked absolutely defeated by this unexpected extension to their embarrassment. I could see their disappointment and frustration at the absolute unfairness of what was transpiring in their eyes. The sudden rug-pull brought a renewed warm glow to all of their faces within seconds. I tried to keep a poker face, but for any of the girls glancing at me, it’s very possible that they could sense the festivities going on behind my eyes.

And so, the girls all undressed, now without being able to hide themselves from me as I walked around and in between them. Three more rounds of getting naked gave me the opportunity to check any aspects of any of the girls I hadn’t yet checked off my bucket list. In one evening, I had gone from never even having seen a real life nude girl before, to knowing nooks and crannies of twelve different girls that even they may have never known about.

As the costumes were cycled through, my aunt decided to rule out the red and white costume as it would require the use of butt glue, and the blue and gold one when she recalled that the floors at the gymnastics meet venue were a similar blue. In the end, she chose the pink and white leotard - the very first costume the girls had tried on that evening. The leotard they were already wearing when I first walked in, before any of them had been seen completely naked by an innocent, friendly twelve year old boy they knew as Charlie.

Almost perfectly on cue, an alarm on my aunt’s watch beeped.

“Okay team,” my aunt said as she stopped the alarm, “that’s our time here. Thank you all for picking up the pace so we could get through this in time. And on that note, let’s all please thank Charlie for helping us to work through your modesty issues this afternoon.”

“Thank you Charlie”, the girls reluctantly said. I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do, so I awkwardly nodded and gave a double thumbs up.

“Thanks Charlie,” my aunt added, before instructing the girls that they could now pack away all of their costumes into their bags and head to the back of the room to get dressed into their regular clothing.

For one final time, I watched the girls around me get naked. I watched as they crouched to sort out their costumes and put them away, and then I slid down off the stage as they all headed to the back of the gymnasium to get dressed. I could feel the wave of collective relief like a refreshing breeze, as the girls reached their clothing. And even though this marked the end of my evening of seeing naked girls, I actually felt relieved for them too. Plus, my penis had now been hard and positively drooling for almost an hour, and I just wasn’t used to this kind of thing - I needed relief as well!

As they began dressing, I got one last little thrill, an image I thought I was going to see much earlier that evening. I got to see each girl step into the panties that they had chosen to wear under their clothes that day, and what kind of bras all of these girls wore. Twelve girls putting on their personal, private undergarments. One final little insight into each of them that I could take with me.

After each of the girls had put their last pieces of clothing back on, they collected their belongings and filed out in silence, not once making eye contact with me. And honestly, after going through such unending mortification in front of me, I couldn’t blame them.

— —

“You train as you would compete,” my aunt concluded as she drove me home, having just explained to me the reason for her rule against the adjustment of ‘riding up’ costumes during her training sessions.

“You know,” I said after a long pause in thought, “You should start using the leotard with the red and white pattern as the girls’ regular weekly training uniform.”
“Why’s that?” My aunt asked.
“Well, if they’re always training in a suit that creeps and shifts easily, it would help them get used to it and help train them into ignoring it.”
“Normalizing the sensation of a suit riding up by training in one that has a tendency to ride up…” My aunt pondered the idea aloud. “That’s quite a clever idea, Charlie! You really should visit your aunt more often.”

“I’ve been thinking the same thing”, I replied with an excited grin.

— THE END —

I hope you enjoyed this experimental story as much as I imagine Charlie enjoyed getting to experience it! Thanks again to Sue DeNym for creating the original vignette that the world in this story was able to blossom from. As always for me, feedback is welcome, be it positive or constructive.

Really good expansion/continuation of the original vignette. I think Charlie just experienced the perfect day for any 12 year old boy!

That was masterfully crafted! Wow. I absolutely must check out your other stories as well.

I mean what an amazing aunt to have, eh?

What a strict coach, too. I bet the girls will do real well in competitions, if they don't die of mortification first, that is.

I think you really perfectly "milked" every drop of potential out of the situation described, with excellent escalation, twists and details (The glue! The various malfunctions!) Charlie is one lucky guy and we're very lucky readers. Thanks again!

This story was incredible! Perfectly paced! The way you slowly built the exposure up for the girls was absolutely perfect! There are so many parts that were wonderful but my two favorite things were the way the Aunt was totally disregarding the girls embarrassment, and my absolute favorite part was when poor Morgan lost her outfits for the rest of the time.

Fantastic story! I'm excited to read your other ENF story and look forward to what you write in the future