Pantsing and Stripping Forums

The following is applicable to all chapters of “Roosevelt Humiliations:”

© May 2004 by Blondie.

This is a work of fiction, and is fantasy only. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

For ages 18 and older only.

Chapter 1: The Wedgie
Chapter 2: Pantsless in Homeroom
Chapter 3: Stripped in the Car
Chapter 4: The Naked Crawl
Chapter 5: Bus Stop Humiliation
Chapter 6: Naked and Molested in the Auditorium
Chapter 7: Brenda's Revenge
Chapter 8: Classroom Humiliation
Chapter 9: Stripped on the Soccer Field
Chapter 10: Forced Naked at a Public Beach
Chapter 11: Maternal Discipline
Chapter 12: A Very Embarrassing Spanking
Chapter 13: Under My Sister's Control
Chapter 14: Victoria's Secret
Chapter 15: A Mortifying Measurement
Chapter 16: Tormented by Becky and Brenda
Chapter 17: The Bubble Bath
Chapter 18: Spanked and Pantied
Chapter 19: The Slumber Party Begins
Chapter 20: Petticoated
Chapter 21: Felicity
Chapter 22: Denuded by a Thirteen-Year-Old
Chapter 23: Shake That Ass!
Chapter 24: Hairlessness Revealed
Chapter 25: Shrinkage
Chapter 26: Forced Orgasm





Chapter 1: The Wedgie

Intro

It was my first week at Roosevelt High School, and I was scared. I had heard stories about how the smaller kids are tormented by the bigger ones. Unfortunately, I’m one of the smaller kids. I’m only five feet, four inches and I weigh only one hundred and seventeen pounds dripping wet. I’ve seen some of the older, bigger students, and maybe it’s my imagination, but I feel like they are smiling at me as they size me up as a future target. I have found myself walking a little faster in those situations.


My Humiliation Begins

It was lunchtime on Friday, and I was standing by myself watching a group of kids play baseball. The week was almost over, and so far I had escaped unscathed, so I was thinking that maybe those stories are just unfounded rumors. I was starting to feel a little more comfortable with that thought when out of the corner of my eye I noticed someone kneeling on his hands and knees right behind me. Before I had time to react, another student pushed me backward by the shoulders and I fell to the ground.

That was when I made a fateful mistake that probably went a long way toward inviting future torment. Without thinking, I vented my anger by getting up and kicking dirt on the guy who was on his hands and knees. He at first had an incredulous look on his face, probably because a little freshman like me had dared to lash back. That look was instantly replaced by one of anger, and the next thing I knew he grabbed my ankles and hauled me back down to the ground, saying to his friend, “Come on, Reggie, let's teach this little shit a lesson.”

Struggle as I might, I couldn’t fight off the two attackers, as they were almost twice my size. I felt my shirttail lifted out of the back and then felt fingers reaching inside the back of my pants. My white briefs were then pulled violently up my back. I was on my knees while the guy called Reggie held me in a headlock. The other attacker straddled my neck, facing toward his objective while pulling my underpants up my back.
"No! Please! I'm sorry!" I screamed, attracting more attention, as the baseball players stopped their game and were looking on in amusement.

Before I knew it the leg holes of my underpants were completely outside of my pants. Reggie’s friend was relentless. He grabbed the leg holes and pulled even harder. My balls were starting to hurt from the pressure when the unmistakable sound of ripping fabric could be heard. He kept pulling and before long my underpants were ripped completely off. He then took my torn underpants and wrapped them around my neck, tying them in a knot.

They both got up, full of themselves with their accomplishment. My main attacker addressed me. “What the fuck were you thinking, you little shit?” he said. “Nobody fucks with Mitch, especially a freshman. What’s your name?”

I gave him my nickname without thinking, which I immediately regretted. “Blondie,” I answered tearfully.

“Blondie, huh,” Mitch answered. He laughed. “Well, Blondie, you and I are gonna get to know each other really well.” He looked at Reggie and said, “I think we’ve found ourselves our freshman plaything.”

Reggie looked at me and smiled. "Yeah, we'll have some fun with him, alright."

As they walked away Mitch said, “Watch your back, Blondie. I’ll probably be there.”


Recovery

I had to put my worries about Mitch aside, as I had more immediate concerns. I tugged at the underpants wrapped around my neck, but the knot was very tight. I looked up and noticed quite a few people looking at me, including a group of about five girls who were giggling freely. I felt my face turning bright red as I sat on the ground and struggled with the knot. After a couple of agonizing minutes, a compassionate fellow freshman came to my rescue.

“Here, let me help you with that,” he said as he took two hands and tore the underpants from my neck.

“Thanks a lot,” I told him gratefully.

“No problem. My name’s Robert, what’s yours?”

“Most people call me Blondie.”

“I can see why,” he grins as he looks at my shock of light blond hair. “A pretty unnerving experience, huh?”

“Yeah, I’ve heard about this place and should have known better. I was an idiot for fighting back.”

“You’d better be careful, Blondie, from what I hear. Next time they’re liable to take off your pants.”

“Oh, God,” I answered, literally quivering at the prospect. "Seriously?"

“Yeah, I don’t mean to scare you, but my brother is a senior here and he's told me a few stories. For instance, last year they stripped a freshman completely naked and greased him from head to toe with baby oil. Then they took turns sliding him down a newly waxed hallway. They made bets on how far the poor kid would slide. A crowd started gathering and they were making bets, too. Supposedly the winning bet was forty-seven yards. I guess every time he got up, he just kept slipping all over the place. Can you imagine the humiliation?”

“Oh, God,” was all I could say.

“The scary thing is," Robert continued, "when these guys got caught, they got in trouble—not for stripping and humiliating the poor freshman but for greasing up the hallway.”

"Oh, man," I responded. "Why don't the teachers do something about it?"

"Well, I'll tell you," said Robert. "I heard that a couple of years ago a bunch of seniors stripped a freshman near the football field. They made him walk naked the full length of the field with his hands behind his head."

"Oh, shit," I said.

"Yeah. Anyway, one of the teachers—it was a woman—reported the incident to the principal. He had to act on it, and there was a full investigation. One guy already had a history, and he was expelled. Three other guys were suspended."

"That's a good thing, " I said, hopefully.

"Well, here's the deal," continued Robert. "The guy that was expelled was out for vengeance, and his three friends felt the same way."

"Uh-oh," I said.

"Uh-oh is right. They stalked the female teacher, and about a month after the incident she was attacked."

"Oh, jeez, what did they do?"

"Well, she wasn't physically harmed, but I guarantee you there are emotional scars. She was working late in her classroom after school one day, and they burst in, ganged up on her and stripped her naked."

"Whoa," I said, wide-eyed and agape.

"They tied her up with rope from a fixture on the ceiling, then took pictures. They told her that if she ever told anyone who did it then they would release the pictures, and that she could expect much worse—and that they knew where she lived."

"Holy shit!"

"They left her tied up there with the door open. At some point a couple of students saw her from the hallway and rescued her. Word got around the school quickly, including to the faculty.

"She never gave them up, but everyone had a pretty good idea who did it and why they did it. In any case, the boys got off scot-free, and ever since then the teachers turn a blind eye when anything takes place like what happened to you today—or worse."

"Oh, God. Um, which teacher was it?"

"Her name was Miss Hartford. She's not here anymore. She took a leave of absence and never came back. I'm guessing she left town. I mean, can you blame her?"

"No, I guess not," I said, shaking my head.

"And there's more," Robert continued. "It involves Mr. Radcliffe—he was the principal, and still is. My brother never got the full story of how they got to him. More naked pictures? He's not a big guy, so they could have easily overpowered him if they wanted to. In any case, about a week after Miss Hartford's naked episode, Mr. Radcliffe reinstated the guy that got expelled."

"Jeez, that's crazy."

"And just to show that they had free rein to do whatever they wanted, they found that same freshman—he helped with the investigation, so they weren't happy with him—and they stripped him naked and made him walk the length of the football field again. And this time they didn't give him back his clothes."

"Holy shit!" I said. "What did the kid do?"

"I don't know how he finally got some clothes, but he had to go back into the building naked. I'm sure it was a very humiliating experience."

"Oh, man," was all I could say as I imagined myself in the same position as the unfortunate freshman.

"Anyway, like I say, watch yourself, Blondie. The inmates are running the asylum here."

The warning bell sounded, and Robert and I went our separate ways. As I tried to shake off my awful experience and Robert's harrowing stories, I shuddered as I thought of what may lie in store for me in my future at Roosevelt High.

I'm hoping Blondie gets to witness some humiliations dealt out to other underclassmen. But I'm sure Blondie will end up having his fair share
of trouble.

TeenFan wrote: ↑Sat Jan 06, 2024 3:35 am I'm hoping Blondie gets to witness some humiliations dealt out to other underclassmen. But I'm sure Blondie will end up having his fair share
of trouble.

In the very next chapter, Blondie does describe some humiliations to the other freshmen that he witnessed. It's been a few years since I've read this, but as I recall, much like Tommy in "Tommy's Debasement," the story focuses mainly on the humiliations suffered by the Blondie character, mostly at the hands of females.

Chapter 2: Pantsless in Homeroom

Roosevelt Lore

Almost a month has gone by since the forgettable wedgie experience at the hands of the two sophomores, Mitch and Reggie. Even though I’ve been spared any more attacks (so far) at their hands, this school is really starting to scare me. Since my experience, I have witnessed or heard of three instances of freshmen boys being humiliated.

On one occasion the student received a wedgie like I did, only it was worse. It happened after school out by the old Roosevelt statue. They pulled up his briefs and lifted him up and hung him up by his underpants right there on Roosevelt’s extended arm. The poor kid was dangling there helplessly with his arms flailing at air and his legs kicking furiously. I thought for sure that his underpants were going to rip, but he was kind of small and didn't weigh very much. An entertained crowd gathered, watching and laughing at the poor kid. It was over ten minutes before a teacher came out and rescued him.

I must admit I was chuckling to myself at the comical sight, while at the same time I shuddered as I knew all too well that it could just as easily have been me hanging up there.

The second episode took place between second and third period. I happened to be walking to my next class when I noticed a raucous crowd whooping it up outside the locker room door. I weaved my way through and discovered the cause of the commotion. A freshman was frantically banging on the door of the locker room with his foot. He had been thrown out there, completely naked with his hands tied behind his back with one of those plastic zip ties. I stood transfixed at this scene until the warning bell sounded for the next class. The crowd dispersed, leaving the distressed kid to himself. I don’t know how long it was before somebody let him in. Again, I felt a strong sense of anxiety when I imagined myself in such a predicament.

The third incident took place outside during a P.E. class. I wasn't there to witness this one, but my friend Robert was, and he told me the story over lunch one day. Here is how our conversation went:

"So I'm in my P.E. class yesterday," started Robert. "We're playing a five-on-five basketball game, while a girls' senior class was nearby doing calisthenics. We were playing shirts vs. skins, and one of the guys playing shirtless was....a bit on the small side."

Like me, I remember thinking.

"Anyway, I happened to notice that three of the senior girls had stopped doing their calisthenics and were watching our game. One of them was pointing at the smaller kid. All three of them were grinning. I had no idea why at the time, but I do now. I think they were scheming on him, and I don't mean in a good way—at least for him.

"Well, as fate would have it, the ball got away and rolled right to where they were standing. The small kid—who I think was totally oblivious to the fact that the girls were keying on him—went to get the ball. One of the girls had picked it up and told him he could have it in exchange for his shorts."

"Whaaaat?" I said.

"Yep. So the kid said something like 'Come on, just give me the ball,' and the girl said he would get the ball when she got his shorts. I don't think the guy took her seriously, but as it turned out she was dead set on seeing the guy in his underwear. He finally walked back toward us, shrugged his shoulders and said, 'They won't give me the ball.' Well, while he was shrugging his shoulders one of the girls snuck up behind him and pulled his shorts down to his ankles."

"Oh, wow."

"They weren't done. Not nearly done! He reached down to pull them up, but the girl was stepping on them. He tried to push her away, but by then her two friends came to help. One of them wrapped her arms around him and lifted him up—she was bigger and more athletic than he was and had no problem—while another girl pulled his shorts completely off."

"Oh, shit!" I said.

"They were the standard Roosevelt gym shorts and they were probably two sizes too big for him, so they came off pretty easily. We're all watching—and to be honest, it was pretty funny—while the guy frantically chases them while they played keep-away with his shorts. He finally gave up and decided his best course of action was to escape to the locker room where his clothes were."

"Yeah, that's what I would have done," I said.

"But they stopped him before he could get there and told him if he didn't go back to the basketball game that they would take off his underpants, too. He took them seriously this time. So he had to play basketball in his tighty-whities while everyone laughed at him."

"Seriously? Oh, man," I said. "I can't even imagine."

"It gets worse. After a minute or so—maybe less—I guess the humiliation was too much for him so he made another run for the locker room."

"Again, exactly what I would have done. I don't think I could have handled playing basketball after being stripped to my underpants like that."

"But these girls were mean, and they were having fun. They weren't going to let up. So again they caught the guy, but this time, while one girl held him up, another girl pulled his underpants down his thighs."

"No!"

"Yes. And they told him if he didn't go back and finish the game, that they would take them completely off, and do the same thing every day until he did what they said."

"Holy shit! So did he play?"

"He knew he had no choice unless he wanted to be stripped naked on the spot, plus be humiliated by these girls every day.

"So they let him go and he pulled up his underpants and went back to the game. But they told him that they never said he could pull his underpants back up, and that he had to finish the game with his tighty-whities pulled down."

"You're kidding! Tell me you're making this up!"

"I kid you not."

"Oh, my God. Did he do it?"

"He did," said Robert, while shaking his head in wonderment at the recollection. "We're all standing around, waiting to see what he was going to do. It took him a minute to build up the nerve. But then—and I couldn't believe what I was seeing—he started pulling his underpants down."

"Jesus Christ! This is crazy!"

"It was. At first he only pulled them down a little bit, to where he was showing most of his ass but not his dick. But they kept yelling, 'Further! Further!' until he had them most of the way down his thighs. Then he played basketball."

"Oh. My. God."

"I know. It was surreal. He was on the other team, and I was defending him. He kept trying to cover up, but his teammates kept passing him the ball, which I found a little sadistic on their part."

"Yeah," I said, while shaking my head like Robert did earlier.

"And he had this....well, to be blunt, he had this little dick with no hair on it (just like me, I thought once again), something the girls had a good time teasing him about. And it was bobbing around while he played, which made them laugh even harder. It was amusing to see, I have to admit. I probably would have been laughing too if I didn't feel so sorry for him.”

"Oh, Jesus, he must have been sooo fucking embarrassed," I said.

"Totally. I've never seen anyone's face so red, or anybody so humiliated. All the girls had paused their calisthenics and were watching and laughing, along with the other guys in our class that were playing flag football nearby.

"Anyway, he somehow finished the game, and he pulled up his underpants and the girls threw him his shorts. It was all so unbelievable, but I saw it with my own eyes."

I knew the story about why teachers don't get involved in these sordid occurrences, but I had to ask. "What was the P.E. teacher doing throughout all this?" I asked.

"Well, Mr. Dunlop, our P.E. teacher conveniently disappeared into the locker room. Their teacher was a woman, and it looked like she was going into the locker room, too. But I looked over there a couple of times and she was standing in the doorway, watching the whole thing. I swear she had a smile on her face."

"Oh, man, this place is unreal," I said.

"You got that right."

I found Robert's story particularly unnerving, and not only because of the excruciating humiliation that was endured by the poor freshman. The scenario of getting stripped by guys is frightening enough. But somehow the prospect of girls doing the dirty deed seems like it would be especially humiliating. And now it was apparent that the girls at this godforsaken place are just as apt as the boys are to humiliate a poor freshman boy like me. And it appears that the girls might just be more fiendish than the boys in their means of inflicting humiliation.
As I left the cafeteria, I felt myself shudder while contemplating Robert's disturbing account.


Depantsed

Regrettably, my time was coming. It was an unusually warm Tuesday morning in early October. My mother dropped me off at school about thirty minutes early so she could meet a client. As I closed the car door, I spotted Mitch and Reggie standing near the drinking fountain in front of the school. I nervously walked briskly through the front door, avoiding eye contact and hoping that they hadn’t seen me. I walked up the stairs and looked back. There was no sign of them, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

Ten minutes later I was at my locker in the busy corridor. I was hanging up my coat when it happened.

I never saw them coming. Suddenly I felt two strong arms wrapped around me in a bear hug, pulling me to the middle of the hallway. I looked back and recognized Reggie. Another set of hands grabbed my ankles and lifted me off the ground. I noticed Mitch going for my waist. I was expecting another wedgie.

“Please, no!” I shouted.

But they had something else in mind—something much more humiliating. Mitch started undoing my belt. Petrified, I started kicking my legs wildly in an effort to fend them off. But Mitch had brought some of his friends, so I was overwhelmed and pretty much helpless. I felt my belt loosen and then felt Mitch’s fingers undoing the button on my corduroys. At the same time someone else was pulling off my shoes, apparently to facilitate taking off my pants. For some reason, I guess for good measure, they also removed my socks.

Mitch had my button undone and started going to work on my zipper. I screamed bloody murder, and someone put his hand over my mouth. My zipper was down, and I felt my pants sliding down my thighs.

Someone shouted out, “Hey they’re pantsing him! Check it out!”

I noticed a large group of students forming around me, all of them enjoying the proceedings. My pants were below my knees, and I feared the inevitable. Sure enough, Mitch pulled my pants inside out over my feet, and in a matter of seconds they were stripped off. A cheer went up in the corridor. Several girls were giggling. “Strip him naked!” I heard one of them yell.

I remembered the naked freshman outside the locker room and wondered if that could happen to me. I was in a panic, red-faced and terrified. Mitch addressed me while Reggie maintained his hold on me.

“All right, Blondie, I’m giving you two choices. Your first choice is to walk to your homeroom just like you are, in just your tee shirt and your little tighty-whities. Otherwise, everything comes off and we throw you in there buck naked.” To my horror he pulled out the front of the waistband of my underpants and peeked inside. Grinning, he continued. “Yeah, I’m sure you’d love to show all these pretty girls your hairless little weenie.

“So what’s it gonna be, Blondie?”

“Oh please, don’t do this to me!” was all I could muster.

“Let’s strip him, Reggie,” said Mitch as he reached for my underpants.

“No! Stop! I’ll do it!” I screamed. Mitch withdrew and Reggie released me. “When can I get my pants back?” I asked pleadingly.

“Oh, don’t worry, you’ll get them in due time,” answered Mitch with a sly grin.


The Shameful Walk

Homeroom was all the way on the other end of the hallway. I started to make the long, humiliating walk of shame. The crowd of amused students parted in the middle, forming a path. I saw my shoes and socks on the floor, and I picked them up as I went. I looked straight down and walked as fast as I could, at the same time not at all looking forward to reaching my destination. I self-consciously tugged on my shirttail, but it only reached about halfway down my underpants. What a sight I must have been: face glowing, walking through the hallway in my underwear.

I reached my homeroom door, put my hand on the knob and looked back. Mitch was leading the way, holding my precious pants. I didn’t even bother asking him for them, knowing what the answer would be. I closed my eyes for a second, took a deep breath, pulled open the door and entered the room.


Homeroom Debasements

The room was about three-quarters full. My chair was in the front of the middle row. I made a beeline for the desk without looking up. I heard the buzzing, then the giggling—pretty much the reaction you’d expect from seeing some guy walk into a classroom in just his underwear. I took my seat, my face burning as I felt all eyes on me. As other students filed in, they invariably followed the gazes of the rest of the students and discovered me in my semi-disrobed state.

“Blondie, where the hell are your pants?” the guy on my left asked. I just waved my left hand back and forth, palms down, without looking at him, as I was too distraught to answer.

The bell rang and Miss Farnsworth, the homeroom teacher, entered the room. She is a tallish, thin spinster in her late forties. She had been teaching at Roosevelt High for over twenty-five years, so she most assuredly had seen more than her share of pranks for which Roosevelt is infamous. She could sense the energy in the room, and it was only a few seconds before she discovered my condition. At first a startled look crossed her face, followed by a wry smile as she stared at my bare legs.

“Mr. Haggerty, would you stand up, please?” directed Miss Farnsworth. I stood, embarrassed to the max. My hands hovered near my groin, as if to provide a shield. Miss Farnsworth looked me up and down, her gaze coming to rest on my legs. “You have very pretty legs, Mr. Haggerty,” she remarked with a teasing smile.

The laughter surrounding me echoed in my ears. If she was trying to exacerbate my embarrassment (as I’m pretty sure she was), then she was certainly successful. I stood there, burning brighter, totally speechless.

“But I hardly think this is the time or place to be showing them off,” she continued. “I think we deserve an explanation, Mr. Haggerty.”

“I-I-I.…”

My response was drowned out by raucous laughter. Miss Farnsworth was staring out the window, as was everyone else. I followed her gaze and made what can best be described as a bittersweet discovery. There, hanging from the top of the flagpole, just below the American flag, were my beloved corduroys.

It was a comical sight for everybody. Maybe someday down the road I’ll see the humor, but at that point all I could think of was retrieving my pants and pulling them on.

“I’d venture to say those belong to you, Mr. Haggerty,” Miss Farnsworth cleverly observed.

“Fucking genius,” I muttered, thinking she couldn’t hear me over the giggling students.

“What did you say?” she asked accusingly. She took a couple of steps toward me.

“N-nothing, Miss Farnsworth.”

“I heard you loud and clear, Mr. Haggerty. That is no way to talk to anyone, especially one of your superiors.”

“Yes, Miss Farnsworth. Sorry, Miss Farnsworth.”

The teacher stood there staring at me, apparently deciding how to handle my insubordination. All I really wanted to do was to run down and recover my pants. I figured my best course would be to step up my apology. “Really, Miss Farnsworth, I apologize. It will never happen again.”

But my attempt at placation would be unsuccessful, and my sorry plight was about to worsen.

“Take off your shirt,” was her startling response.

I was dumbfounded. I had heard that the faculty turned the other way during a typical Roosevelt hazing, but it appeared that this teacher would take it a step further and be actively involved in the depravity.

Amid the gasps and giggles, I stood there transfixed. Miss Farnsworth used that moment to exercise her authority. “Come on,” she prodded. “Off with it. You need to be punished for your behavior. You’re to spend the rest of this session in just your underpants….and if you push your luck any further, I’ll have those removed, too. If you don’t believe me, buster, just try me. You’ll be standing before me naked as the day you were born before you know what hit you. And don’t think for a second that you’re too young to be taken over my knee for a bare-bottomed spanking in front of all your classmates, either.”

The students could contain their amusement no longer, and the sounds of laughter resounded throughout the room. Intimidated, I peeled off my shirt. Miss Farnsworth snatched it from my grasp and promptly slam-dunked it into her desk drawer before kicking the drawer closed.

I stood among my peers and my homeroom teacher, clad only in my tighty-whities. Instinctively I covered the small protrusion in my underpants with both hands. My face burned like it had never burned before. I slithered into my chair, surrounded by the laughter that filled the room.

“Excuse me, did I tell you to sit down, Mr. Haggerty?” bellowed Miss Farnsworth. I obediently rose from my chair. “You’re to stand during roll call so everyone can see what happens to unruly students. What happens is they get shamed. Do you feel shamed, Mr. Haggerty?”

“Yes,” I replied softly, my face downcast.

“Yes, I’m quite sure you do. My, how you are blushing so. Please turn around and face your classmates, Mr. Haggerty, so they can see just how shamed you are.”

If I could have died on the spot I would have chosen to do so. I turned around, staring straight down to the floor with my hands crossed over the front of my underpants. That simple but worthwhile effort to help protect what little modesty I had left would be short-lived. "Put your hands by your sides, and keep them there," was the sadistic teacher's command. I did so, and my face was pulsating from the excruciating humiliation. Thirty-one sets of eyes immediately focused on my crotch, eliciting fiendish grins, mostly from the girls. Many of the students were giggling, and their obvious enjoyment over my shameful situation only added to my distress. I was forced to stand there, the center of attention, soaking up the degradation throughout the roll call.


Recovering my Pants

Finally, Miss Farnsworth relented. “Okay, you have about five minutes before the bell goes off, Mr. Haggerty. I suggest you go rescue your pants before your first class. And I do hope you’ve learned a valuable lesson.” Without answering I reached down to pick up my shoes. “That won’t be necessary, Mr. Haggerty. You may come back for your shoes and shirt after you retrieve your pants.”

I hesitated momentarily while digesting the ramifications of her statement. I would be forced to go outside in my underpants.

Best to hurry it up, I figured, lest the whole school sees me like this. To the accompaniment of hearty laughter, I bolted through the door and started running down the corridor toward the stairs. The hallway was empty but for two separate students (one male and one female) who were late for school. Both gave the classic look of open-mouthed surprise, followed by a huge grin of amusement as they discovered my state of undress, along with my panicked, embarrassed expression. I picked up the pace even more, making my way outside.

I reached the flagpole and was quite anguished to discover a nasty knot at the base of the pulley. I spent a couple of agonizing minutes clawing at the knot. I could sense the attention I was getting from the students in several classrooms on the first floor looking through their windows, but I refrained from looking at them.

Finally, I freed the knot and furiously pulled on the rope until my long-lost pants drew to the bottom. I removed them from the hook and quickly stepped into them. Never before had I been so grateful to be putting on an article of clothing.

As I started trotting back toward the building, the bell went off. I groaned, knowing the hallways would be crowded while I would have to maneuver my way through the masses, barefoot and naked from the waist up.

As I ran by one of the windows, I couldn’t help but glance into one of the classrooms. To my chagrin I saw Mitch in a window seat, waving to me and grinning broadly.

I quickly averted my glance and made a dash through the front doors of Roosevelt High, my school of nightmares.

Chapter 3: Stripped in the Car

Cafeteria Humiliation

I’m now completely under the power of Mitch and Reggie, and probably Reggie’s girlfriend, if she’s so inclined. And I think she probably is. I remember when I was stripped of my corduroys in the hallway she seemed to get as big of a kick out of my humiliation as anybody.

This is a most unsettling turn of events, and I now walk around with an eye over my shoulder, praying that none of my tormentors are in the vicinity.
But instead of carrying on I should probably backtrack and recount what transpired to put me in this state of hopelessness. This will be painful, as I cringe just thinking about that dreadful day.

Well, here goes: It was lunchtime at Roosevelt High, and I was sitting in the cafeteria eating lunch with my friend Robert. Out of the blue Mitch came and sat down next to me. I stiffened in my seat as he put an arm around me and spoke. “Hi there, Blondie,” he said. “I’d like you to do something for me.” He waited for an answer.

“What’s that?” I cautiously answered.

“Do you see my friend Reggie a couple of tables away?” I looked where he was pointing and nodded affirmatively. “Do you see the pretty girl he’s sitting with?” Again I nodded. Indeed, she was very pretty. “Good,” Mitch continued. “That’s Reggie’s girlfriend, and her name is Joanna. Here’s what I want you to do: Walk over there and say, ‘Hi Joanna, my name’s Blondie. Would you like to see my underpants?’ Then just stand there and wait for her reply.”

I had a horrified look on my face while Mitch looked at me for a response. “Please, I can’t do that,” I answered. “Please, just leave me alone,” I pleaded.

“Suit yourself, Blondie,” Mitch countered. “I’m sure you remember me stripping your pants off. Trust me, if you don’t do what I say you’re gonna lose more than your pants.”

I sat there dumbfounded, not knowing where to turn. At this point Robert came to my defense, a gallant move on his part but probably one he might eventually regret. “Hey, leave him alone,” Robert interjected. “He didn’t do anything to you.”

Mitch gave Robert an icy stare and said, “Shut your fucking mouth, dickhead.” He paused and continued to stare at Robert. “I’ll deal with you some other time." He refocused his attention on me. "Right now, Blondie, you’re up, and you’d better make it good. I’m going over to sit with them, and you better get your little ass over there. Don’t forget, her name’s Joanna and you want to show her your underpants.”

With that Mitch got up and made his way over to Reggie and his girlfriend. Several other students were also at the table. I watched him sit down and look over to me expectantly. I sat there anxiously, not knowing where to turn.

“I hate to say it, Blondie, but I think you’d better do what he said,” advised Robert. “There’s no telling what he’ll do to you if you don’t. You saw what he did to you in the hallway. If you piss him off, he’s liable to strip you totally naked next time. In fact, I’m sure that’s what he’ll do.”

“Oh God,” was all I could say. “I can’t believe this is happening.” I sat there for a couple of more minutes, my mind in a state of turmoil. More than once I tried to get up, but it was like I was bolted to my chair.

Now you’re probably saying, “What’s the big deal, just go do it and get it over with,” especially considering the consequences if I didn’t. And in retrospect I certainly agree with you.

All I know is that I finally pried myself out of my chair and timidly walked over to their circular table. I stopped next to Reggie’s girlfriend. My body was shaking, and my voice was quivering. “Hi, Joanna, my name’s Blondie,” I blurted out.

And that’s as far as I got. The scene is kind of vague, but I felt all eyes on me, and I heard a couple of people giggle. There was no way, under the circumstances, that I could ask this beautiful looking stranger if she wanted to see my underpants. I remember freezing there for what seemed like a long time, my face as hot as the stovetop in the kitchen behind me. Then I just turned and walked away, staring at the ground but not seeing anything. I heard the laughter from the table, and I broke into a trot, running straight into the bathroom, where I found sanctuary in a stall. I sat with my hands over my face for the next fifteen minutes or so, until the bell signaling the next period went off. When I came out, I looked around warily and was relieved to see no sign of Mitch, Reggie, or Joanna.


Kidnapped

To my dismay, my respite would only last a few more hours, until that fateful encounter with my antagonists—the one that left me in my present state of submission.

It happened after school as I was walking alone to the bus stop. Suddenly a car screeched to a stop right next to me. Before I had a chance to run, Mitch and Reggie jumped out, and before I knew what hit me, they had me inside the car and we were speeding off.

Just like that, I'd basically been kidnapped—snatched right off the sidewalk, all in a matter of seconds.

There was a guy driving and a girl in the passenger seat, neither of whom I recognized. I was in the middle in the back seat, with Reggie on my left and Mitch on my right. It was Mitch’s voice I heard first. “Well, hello, Blondie, nice to see you again,” he said with a grin. “We thought we’d save you the bus money and give you a lift, nice guys that we are.” I didn’t say anything as I sat there, terrified. Mitch continued talking to me. “It’s too bad you didn’t obey me during lunch today. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Now the first thing you're going to do is to take all your clothes off.”

I guess I wasn’t surprised that that’s what he had in mind. But it didn’t lessen the impact of what I had just heard.

To make matters worse, the girl in the front suddenly had taken a keen interest in my situation. She turned around and faced me with her knees on the seat and her hands on the backrest, leering lasciviously at me. She looked to be about sixteen, with long blond hair, somewhat plain but with a pretty smile.

Unfortunately, the reason for that smile was a source of extreme apprehension for me. I sat paralyzed in my seat, not saying anything or looking at anybody. I was hoping beyond hope to wake up from a nightmare. But it was all too real, and Mitch wasn’t about to back off.

“Okay, Blondie, here’s your choice,” he said. “You can take off your clothes yourself, or Reggie and I will do it for you. Don’t think we can’t; we’ll have you bare-ass naked within a minute.” I didn’t doubt that for a second, as they have demonstrated already that with their size, they can overpower me. “Now, if you take your clothes off yourself, we’ll give them back before you go home. But if you make Reggie and I strip you, your clothes are going out the window, piece by piece as we take them off. In which case you’re walking home naked. So what’d it gonna be, Blondie?”


The Stripping

It wasn’t much of a choice. What could I do? I sure as hell didn’t want to run home naked, but could I trust that these assholes would give my clothes back if I took them off myself? That was a chance I'd have to take.

Again the relentless Mitch badgered me. “I’ll give you five seconds to start stripping,” he demanded. Reluctantly I started unbuttoning my shirt, while the girl in the front seat giggled merrily. “I thought you’d come to your senses,” said Mitch. “Now when you take off each article of clothing, hand them to Marcia here. Marcia, have you met Blondie?”

Marcia stuck out her hand and said, “Nice to meet you, Blondie.” I shook her hand feebly without looking up and without saying anything.

“That’s not very friendly,” taunted Mitch. “Marcia went out of her way to join us when she heard you were going to do a striptease for her. She came along just to see you. Now tell Marcia how glad you are that she came along for the ride.”

“I-I’m glad you came, Marcia,” I managed to muster up.

“Me too, Blondie, I’m looking forward to seeing all of you,” teased Marcia, eliciting laughter from her companions.

The strip would be excruciating, as you can well imagine.

As the car drove through a residential area I proceeded to undress. I finished unbuttoning my shirt, pulled it off and held it out for the grinning Marcia, who snatched it from my grip and tossed it behind her to the floor of the car. I started to reach for my tee shirt, but then thought better of it and went for my shoes. I don’t know why, as it was only prolonging the inevitable. I guess I was in no hurry to allow the girl to ogle my bare torso.
I handed her my shoes one by one, then did the same with my socks. It was a helpless feeling, as I was totally at their mercy. Nobody was saying anything; they were all just staring at me eagerly. The radio was blaring, but I couldn’t tell you what song was playing.

I hesitated momentarily, and then pulled my tee shirt over my head. I intentionally pulled the back of my shirt over my head; I remember thinking if I pulled it from the bottom, I’d have to lift my arms over my head, exposing my hairless armpits. Granted, that should’ve been the least of my worries, but I must admit it was on my mind.

After I handed Marcia my tee shirt, I sat there with my arms folded across my chest. I didn’t really think they were going to let me stop there, but I needed to build up the courage to continue with the dreadful ordeal. Mitch, not wanting the momentum to stop, prompted me by taking my hands and placing them on the front of my jeans. I closed my eyes for a second, and then unbuckled my belt. I didn’t hesitate anymore with my pants, as I guess I decided it was inevitable and I might as well just get it done. I unsnapped the button and pulled down the zipper. I then lifted my hips in the air and slid down my jeans.

This drew out the first audible reaction from my captors. Marcia clapped and giggled, Reggie whistled, and the driver turned around and laughed. Mitch put his hand on my right thigh. “Look at his pretty legs,” he said while he stroked my hairless thigh.

Revolted, I clenched my eyes tightly shut. I reached down to pull off my pants, brushing his hand away as I did. I handed the grinning Marcia my jeans, and she threw them behind her without taking her eyes off me. I could see her gazing back and forth from my burning face to my tighty-whities, to my legs and back up my near-naked body. I remember thinking that if this was bad, how would it be in a few moments, when I’d be naked?

Well, I’m here to tell you, it was horrible.

“Strip ‘em off, Blondie,” ordered Mitch.

I hesitated, having difficulty mustering up the courage to continue. I took a deep breath, slipped my underpants down my legs and pulled them off. I don’t think I handed them to Marcia as much as she plucked them out of my hands. For whatever reason, she hung my underpants on the rearview mirror, where they swayed back and forth with the car's movements.

Marcia turned back around, looked me up and down while grinning and said, "There's a naked boy in our car."

Everyone laughed. The music was blaring and there was hollering and cheering about. I was bent over from the waist, my head at my knees and my hands clutching my privates, almost like I was hanging on to them for dear life. Words can’t do justice to the mortification I felt at that moment.

After some time the noise subsided, and somebody turned down the radio. I felt a tug at both of my shoulders, as Reggie and Mitch were trying to nudge me up.

“Sit up straight, Blondie,” ordered Mitch. “You need to see what you’re going to do.”

I sat up, my hands still over my crotch. I was ever so thankful they didn’t make me remove my hands, though Reggie playfully tried to pull them away at one time, but not with much effort. I don’t know if it was in deference to Marcia (although I got the impression that she would have thoroughly enjoyed my naked exposure) or if they had just an ounce of compassion in their blood. More likely, I think they were saving it up for another time. In any case, like I say, I was relieved that they didn’t make me expose my prepubescent package for their ridicule.

Anyway, when I sat up, to my chagrin I noticed that we were in the middle of Main Street in the busy downtown. We were stopped in the left lane at a red light and there was a median grade on our left. It was the busiest intersection in town, and there were quite a few cars and a considerable amount of people bustling about.


The Threat of Public Nudity

“Okay, Blondie,” Mitch said, “Take a good look at this little area on your left. We’re going to turn left here, go around the block, and then you’re going to get out of the car when we get back here. We’ll dump you right in the center here, then you’re on your own from there.”

I was horrified. The experience in the car was traumatic enough, but to get thrown out naked in public like that—my God, that was beyond comprehension. I started to cry.

“Oh please,” I pleaded in a quivering voice through my tears. “I promise I’ll do anything you say….oh please, I can’t go out there like this!”

I think at that point Mitch knew he had me right where he wanted. He knew that I knew that if at any time I didn’t do exactly what he said, then he could easily have me in this very same predicament again. It may have been a bluff all along, but he achieved his goal, which was my unconditional compliance.

“All right, Blondie,” he said, “Since you obeyed me and took your clothes off yourself, I’ll be true to my word. But remember, if you fucking go against me ever again, I’ll put your naked ass out here in broad daylight, and I’ll tie your hands behind your back to the light post. Got that?” I nodded my head disconsolately. “Okay then. Joey, why don’t you take a right at the next light. We’re getting close to Blondie’s house. We can let him off up the street.”

Great, he even knows where I live. I won't be safe anywhere!

The driver followed instructions and turned into the residential area toward my house. I was still wondering when and if I would get my clothes back. I got my answer quickly.

“Stop here, Joey,” Mitch ordered. “Marcia, throw Blondie his clothes.”

Joey stopped in the middle of a quiet street about two blocks from my house. Marcia dumped my clothes on my lap. I looked up at my underpants, which were still dangling from the rearview mirror. Marcia followed my gaze. "Those are mine now," grinned Marcia.

Without responding, I grabbed my jeans and started to put them on.

“No time for that shit, Blondie, we gotta go. You’re outta here. Reggie, let him out.”


Released

Reggie proceeded to open his door. He pulled on my left arm while Mitch backed up against his door and used his foot to help push me out. I was frantic as I dropped a shoe and my jeans as I was trying to keep myself covered and at the same time hold on to my clothes with my one free hand. I wondered if at some point they all got a look at my naked crotch.

Reggie continued to pull, and Mitch continued to push. They were all laughing. I ended up in a heap on the ground in the middle of the street as Reggie got back in the car. As the car pulled away my jeans flew out of one window and my shoe the other. The driver sat on his horn as the car sped away. I looked up and the four of them were looking back at me, laughing heartily.

Meanwhile, my ordeal wasn’t quite over. I held my clothes over my midsection for protection as I ran and retrieved my pants and shoe. I looked around, and to my chagrin there was a young woman, maybe twenty or so, who happened to be walking in my direction. She stopped in her tracks to take in the unusual scene. I saw the grin on her face, and I turned and ran the other way. I stopped under a tree around the corner and hurriedly pulled on my clothes.

As I walked home, I shivered at the prospect of the repercussions of what happened that day. I was now at their mercy, and there was no telling what Mitch, Reggie, and whomever else they decided to include in their sordid deeds would have in store for me.

I had a nasty feeling in my gut that this was only the beginning of my torment at Roosevelt High.

In "Stripped by Friends" Blondie is a 14 year old Freshman in High School.
He is forced to strip during a car ride.

In "Roosevelt Humiliations" Blondie is in the first week of Freshman year.
He is forced to strip during a car ride.

Is this the same character in both stories?
Physically the character is the same in each story, and I'm assuming this Roosevelt story pre-dates the "Stripped by Friends" (in Blondie's life).

Assuming again, if this is the same Blondie in all stories using this character name, will there be references to events that happen in previous
stories using the character?

TeenFan wrote: ↑Mon Jan 08, 2024 2:19 am In "Stripped by Friends" Blondie is a 14 year old Freshman in High School.
He is forced to strip during a car ride.

In "Roosevelt Humiliations" Blondie is in the first week of Freshman year.
He is forced to strip during a car ride.

Is this the same character in both stories?
Physically the character is the same in each story, and I'm assuming this Roosevelt story pre-dates the "Stripped by Friends" (in Blondie's life).

Assuming again, if this is the same Blondie in all stories using this character name, will there be references to events that happen in previous
stories using the character?

Good assumption, TeenFan, and the answer is "yes" to both questions. As you will see, this story follows Blondie's travails through his junior year at Roosevelt High. We can assume it is the same character who was forced to spend the day naked in "Stripped by Friends"—just with a different group of "friends." Yes, that guy had a pretty rough time of it in high school.

There will be an upcoming story entitled "The Felicity Chronicles: My Exploits as a Humiliator" in which the Blondie character and his tribulations at Roosevelt High are referenced many times. In fact, several chapters are dedicated to Felicity's (as you will see, the Felicity character plays a main role in Blondie's humiliations) perspective on her experiences dominating Blondie in "Roosevelt Humiliations."

In case anyone is wondering—I have been asked several times in the past—the Blondie character is not based on my personal experiences in high school. Fortunately for me, nothing like that ever happened to me. When I write stories like this I do my best to try to get into the mindset in the character I am writing about, so using the Blondie moniker helped me get into that mentality. Of course, I also try to get in the mindset of the aggressor in the story—and I enjoy that just as much—but obviously I wouldn't use the same name.

Would I want anything like that to happen to me? That's a resounding "Hell, no!" Do I fantasize about that? Sure (sorry if that's TMI). I also fantasize about being on the aggressor's end. What can I say, I really enjoy humiliation scenarios.

Chapter 4: The Naked Crawl

Still Shy of Puberty

It is now the last month of my freshman year at Roosevelt High. Much has happened since my last entry in this chronicle of my harrowing humiliations. I regret to say that my physical development is still way behind that of the other boys, as I still have not begun puberty, much to my chagrin.

Even more regrettably, my underdeveloped body has been put on display against my will on more than one occasion. As painful as it may be I feel I should bring the reader up to speed on these most unfortunate occurrences.


Small Penis Humiliation

As you may recall, I left you with the story of the incident that led to my present state of servitude to Mitch, Reggie, Marcia, and anyone else that they wanted to include in their sadistic reign of terror at my expense. That took place in December of my freshman year.

After that horrible experience I returned to school the next day with considerable trepidation. For the first three days after that I managed to avoid all my antagonists. But on the following day I was sitting alone in the cafeteria eating my lunch when I raised my head to the sound of giggling girls at the table across from me. To my chagrin I spotted Marcia with three of her girlfriends. Marcia was doing all the talking and they were all looking at me, laughing heartily. Obviously, she was relating the story of how she witnessed my forced stripping in the back seat of the car a few days before.

My face turned beet red when I realized what was transpiring, which only seemed to enhance the merriment of the girls. I tried not to look at them but when I glanced up again Marcia was holding her index finger and thumb less than two inches apart, eliciting a loud chorus of laughter. I had thought that I had managed to cover myself up that day, but apparently Marcia had caught a glimpse of my manhood—or in this case, my boyhood.

In any case, the embarrassment was more than I could take. Leaving my lunch at the table, I clumsily got up, flushing ever so brightly, and made a hasty exit to the sounds of the giggling girls. I’m blushing right now, just thinking of that dreadful encounter.


Under Mitch’s Control

But that was nothing compared to my next awful experience the following week. That was when Mitch decided to test his newfound control over me.
It was an early afternoon during my free period. As fate would have it, Mitch had a free period at the same time. I was leaning against a tree catching a few rays when I heard his voice. I opened my eyes and saw him standing over me. “Well, well, Blondie,” he said. “I’ve been looking for you the past few days. You’re not trying to avoid me, are you?”

“No…no I’m not,” I answered uncomfortably.

“Well, it’s time to put our new arrangement to the test. Let’s see now, what can I have you do?” He looked around the grassy area we were occupying and located a group of five coeds standing and chatting about twenty-five yards behind us. “See those girls over there, Blondie?” I nodded my head with a strong sense of dread about what was coming next. “Good,” he continued, “I’d like you to crawl over there on all fours. I’m sure you recognize Joanna, Reggie’s girlfriend. She’s the one you refused to go ask if she wanted to see your underpants the other day, and you know how that ended for you.”

I remembered all too well sitting naked in the back seat of a car driving through downtown and being threatened with public nudity on Main Street. Again I nodded disconsolately.

“When you get over there, I’d like you to crawl right up to her and sniff her pussy. Just put your nose right on her jeans, take a couple of sniffs, then come crawling back.”

“Oh God,” I said with a horrified look on my face. “Please, Mitch, no, I can’t do that!”

Mitch simply pointed to the ground. I knew there was no use in pleading with him. I slumped my shoulders in resignation and started to drop down to my hands and knees.

“Wait, I’m not finished,” said Mitch. “I want you to crawl over there wearing just your underpants.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I started to open my mouth and he put his hand on my lips, shaking his head. “Not another word,” he said. “Get those clothes off now or you’re nude on Main Street after school today.


The Crawl

I knew I was in a no-win situation. I stood up, and using the tree as a shield I stripped down to my underpants. Mitch watched me closely, obviously enjoying the scene. My only consolation was that there weren’t any other people around besides Mitch and the five girls.

I braced myself, then again got on all fours and started crawling as fast as I could, figuring that the sooner I get the dirty deed done and over with, the better. I was about twenty feet from my destination when one of the girls discovered me and screamed out.

“Holy shit, check this out!” she yelled while pointing at me.

All heads turned toward me, and I remember seeing at first looks of disbelief, followed by grins of amusement. If they were surprised then, imagine their shock when I crawled straight up to Joanna, planted my nose in her crotch and sniffed like a dog. I quickly turned around and started crawling back.

But I didn’t get very far.


Stripped of Underpants

“You fucking pervert!” screamed Joanna. “Let’s get him, girls!”

I got only about five feet away from them before I was swarmed upon. I felt a pair of hands on the top of the back of my underpants and I remember hearing somebody say, “Let's strip him naked!”

The five coeds—whose anger had turned to amusement and delight—had me pinned down on my stomach and had started pulling my white briefs down.

“No! No! Please!” I screamed.

But it was no use. They were intent on their goal, and I was overmatched. Within seconds I felt the ignominious sensation of my underpants being pulled free from my feet.

They then turned me over on my back, rendering me fully exposed.

“Look at the pervert’s hairless little weenie,” laughed Joanna. “Hey little boy, the grammar school is down the street, what’re you doing here?”

Laughter was abounding, as I struggled to get away. “Please, let me go!” I begged through my tears. “Mitch made me do it! Please!”
The girls looked over to Mitch, who was on the ground by the tree, holding his stomach and laughing hysterically.

“Okay, pervy, you can go now, but don’t think I’m done with you,” warned Joanna. “If you think you don’t like what Mitch is doing to you, just wait till you see what I've got in mind for you. What's your name, little boy?”

"Blondie," I answered.

She laughed. "All right, Blondie, we shall meet again. Now get on your hands and knees and crawl."

Just what I need. Another tormentor, and a female, to boot.

I started crawling back toward Mitch and my clothes, but my degradation wasn’t quite over. Joanna and her friends followed me all the way back, slapping my naked ass silly. By the time I reached my clothes, all four of my cheeks were the same shade of bright red.

When I got to my clothes, I looked at Joanna, since she was holding my underpants. I watched her look up, then toss them as high as she could, where they snagged on a branch, far out of my reach. For the second time that month I had been stripped naked and would subsequently redress sans underpants.

I quickly slipped on my jeans, pulled on my shirt, grabbed my shoes and started running. I could hear them laughing as I disappeared behind a building, shaking uncontrollably.


A Grim Reminder

My underpants remained in the tree for the better part of two months, until we had a bad windstorm, when they must have finally blown down. Due to my route from one class to another, I would have to walk by that tree at least twice a day, and invariably I would sneak a peek at my underpants, which were often swaying in the breeze. It would serve as a grim reminder, not only of my ordeal but of my enforced servitude to the bullies of Roosevelt High.

Chapter 5: Bus Stop Humiliation

Accosted

Let’s see, in my last communication I left you with that awful experience when I had to crawl naked across the lawn in front of Mitch, Joanna and her friends. As you may recall, Joanna promised that she would have something sordid in mind for me in retaliation for sniffing at her crotch in front of her friends. I tried to tell her that Mitch forced me to do it, but it fell on deaf ears. To tell you the truth, I think she has a sadistic side and welcomed an excuse to pounce on a ripe victim such as myself.

Not surprisingly, a couple of months later she made good on her promise. I was waiting at the bus stop after school on one unusually warm, late February day. She was in the passenger seat of a car with a group of guys when the car pulled to a stop right in front of me.

“Hi, Blondie,” she called out from her window. “Want to go for a ride?” She was smiling, as I’m sure she had heard about my naked adventure in the car with Mitch, Marcia and company.

“No thanks, I’ll take the bus,” I answered cautiously.

“Well, okay. But before we go, I’d like you to drop your pants for me and show me your ass.” I heard the laughter emanating from the car. I tensed up and was about to make a run for it. But then I spotted Mitch’s grinning face in the back seat.

“Please, just leave me alone,” I pleaded, my voice cracking.

“We’re not going anywhere until we see your naked little ass, Blondie boy. Now do it, or we’ll kidnap you and strip you naked. I hear you already know what that’s like.”

I looked around nervously. The car partially shielded me from traffic, but there were three other kids at the bus stop, two girls and one guy. None of us knew each other, but I could see they were eyeing me with keen interest. Their mundane wait for the bus had just become quite intriguing. I’m sure they were wondering if I was really going to drop my pants right there in broad daylight.


Dropping My Pants in Public

Well, I really had no choice. It was that or Mitch would certainly carry through with his threat to leave me tied naked in the busy downtown. I turned my back on the car and unbuckled my belt. After unfastening and unzipping, I lowered my pants to my thighs. I could hear the outburst of merriment from the group in the car. “All the way down to your ankles, Blondie!” Joanna prodded. Miserably, I slid my pants all the way down my legs. I wasn’t at all surprised at what I heard next. “Now pull down your underpants. I think your friends out there want to see what you’ve got under there,” continued Joanna. “Pull your little undies all the way down.”

I looked up and sure enough the three strangers had moved a little closer to me and were wide-eyed and open-mouthed at the spectacle. Maybe it was my imagination, but one of the girls seemed to be smirking at the small protuberance in my underpants.

I took another look around. There was a group of about six or seven students about a block and a half away, walking in my direction. I needed to get it done and over with before I had even more witnesses. I swiftly lowered my underpants to my ankles and immediately covered my groin. Mortified, I reached down to lift my clothes back up.

“Uh-uh-uh, Blondie, we haven’t seen your whole ass yet—your shirt’s in the way,” Joanna shouted. “Lift your tee shirt up over your eyes and hold it there with both hands.”


Shake That Ass!

Much to my degradation, I complied. What an awful feeling it was to stand there, for all intents and purposes naked, so submissively catering to the whims of my tormentor.

Joanna addressed one of the girls in front of me, who must have been looking on in wonder and fascination. "What does it look like?" asked Joanna.

"It's small!" squealed the girl.

"I know, I've seen it!" answered Joanna to considerable laughter. "And no hair, right?"

"No, he's completely hairless!" responded the grinning girl.

The fiendish Joanna wasn’t quite finished with me. “That’s great, Blondie, now shake that ass for us. Shake it! Here, shake it to the music!” She turned up the volume to the car stereo full blast. A quick-paced dance number by Rihanna blared through the open windows. “Shake it, Blondie!” shouted Joanna. “Shake that little ass!”

I started shimmying my hips back and forth, much to everyone’s hilarity. I can only imagine how humorous a sight it must have been, both for the group in the car and for the three incredulous bystanders. My hidden face was extremely hot as I wallowed in my debasement, listening to the derisive laughter of the gleeful occupants of the car. Fortunately, the piece ended quickly.

“Okay, Blondie, we’re gonna go now,” Joanna said through her tears of laughter. “I want you to count to twenty really slowly, then you can pull your pants up. I’ll be watching you as we drive off, and if you get dressed too quickly, we’ll be right back to have some more fun with you. Thanks for the show, Blondie, you were awesome!”


A Knotty Situation

(Now, I should point out to the reader that something occurred while I was putting on the display. I couldn’t see anything with my shirt over my head, but I did hear one of the doors to the car slam shut near the end of the song. I didn’t realize it until a few moments later when I reached down to pull up my pants, but someone—probably Mitch, that bastard—had used a piece of rope to tie the bundle of my underpants and pants together in between my legs. If you haven’t already figured it out, you’ll see shortly how that added considerably to my humiliation).

I heard the car drive off and counted to what felt like the slowest twenty seconds of my life. I pulled my shirt down, revealing my crimson face to the three extremely entertained strangers. I reached down to pull up my underpants and pants. I saw the rope and realized that something was amiss. I anxiously pulled up the bundle and to my chagrin I couldn’t get them past my thighs, as the knot impeded their ascent.

I glanced at the three strangers and took in their amused expressions. The group of students walking down the street was closer and I think they may have seen the latter part of my exhibition.

I had to get the hell out of there. In a panic I slung my backpack over my shoulders and with my hands holding my pants at my thighs I made a run for it. Or at least I tried to—it was more of a wobble than a run.

I heard a car horn, and when I looked up, I saw Joanna leaning out of her window, laughing hysterically.

I ducked behind a fence and went to work on the knot. Successful, I waited for the bus to pass, choosing to catch the next one. No way did I want to be on the same bus as the three witnesses of my humiliation.

Maybe I’m getting a little paranoid, but I perused the next bus before I boarded, making sure that Mitch, Joanna, Marcia or any other prospective adversary was not aboard.

* * * * * *

So that was Joanna’s revenge—at least up to that point. I had the feeling she had more shameful tricks up her sleeve.

In our next communication I’ll tell you about a truly humiliating experience I had at the hands of Mitch and Marcia in the Roosevelt auditorium. I shudder just thinking about it.

Chapter 6: Naked and Molested in the Auditorium

No Relief as a Sophomore

My freshman year at Roosevelt High mercifully ended without any further debasements at the hands of my tormentors. I had high hopes that my suffering would finally be over, what with a new batch of freshman students coming in. After all, I was a sophomore, so they could find some nice, ripe freshman to pick on.

I would find out soon enough that this was not to be the case, as Mitch, Reggie, Marcia and Joanna seemed to derive great pleasure from imposing humiliation on me. It was during the second week of the new school year that, to my distress, I got a strong hint that my troubles weren’t over. I was at my locker when Mitch, Marcia and Joanna accosted me.

“Well hello, Blondie boy. Welcome back. It’s so nice to see you,” Joanna offered. “It’s been a while. Why don’t you drop your pants and shake your little ass for us again?” She had both hands on my waist and tried to move my hips from side to side. Amid the laughter, I slipped out of her grip, feeling very apprehensive.

“Hey, come on, I’m a sophomore now. Leave me alone and go pick on one of the new kids,” I tried.

“Oh, but we have more fun with you, Blondie,” Marcia teased.” She took both of my cheeks in her thumbs and index fingers and tweaked them while saying, “We love seeing you blush like a little schoolgirl, just like you’re doing right now.” My cheeks were indeed burning, much to the amusement of the three antagonists. Then the bell for the next class rang, at least temporarily freeing me from further embarrassment. “Bye-bye, Blondie,” said Marcia as the three of them walked away laughing. “Let’s get together and have some fun, real soon!”

I shuddered as I gathered myself and walked to my next class. Apparently, it didn’t matter that I was no longer a freshman. My indignities would continue, much to my chagrin.


Waylaid by Marcia and Mitch

It wasn’t until December that they made good on their desire to continue in their humiliation of me. The annual Christmas play was about to take place in front of the whole student body, and I was entering the auditorium with my friend Robert. Mitch and Marcia appeared on either side of me, each taking one of my elbows. “Come sit with us, Blondie. We’d like to watch the play with you,” said Marcia.

Mitch turned to Robert and said, “Go find another playmate, buddy.”

Robert had the good sense not to interfere. He looked at me and shrugged his shoulders apologetically as Mitch and Marcia escorted me into the auditorium.

We found three seats in the center of the spacious room. I was in the middle of the two with Marcia on my left. The seats on either side of them were vacant.

“Why don’t you take your jacket off and make yourself comfortable,” Marcia said.

I had no desire to remove any of my clothing, and it certainly wouldn’t have made me any more comfortable. “I’m fine, thanks,” I responded. But of course it wouldn’t be my decision.

“You better do what she says, Blondie,” intervened Mitch, “Or ‘you know what’ happens after school today.” Yes, a not-so-subtle reminder of his threat to tie me up naked in the middle of Main Street. I unzipped my jacket and took it off, laying it on my lap.

“Let me help you with that,” said Marcia as she took my jacket and laid it on the empty seat next to her.

I was feeling more ill at ease by the second.


A Quiet, Most Humiliating Stripping

The lights were turned off and the play began. I didn’t know what to expect, but I was extremely nervous. Fifteen minutes went by, during which time Mitch and Marcia left me alone. They seemed genuinely engrossed in the play.

But then their depraved plan began to unfold. Marcia leaned over and quietly spoke the words that caused me to bolt upright in my seat. “Give me your shirt,” she said.

I could have been told that nuclear war had been declared and not been any less terrified. I sat there without moving, figuring that once I submitted, then there was no telling how far things might go.

But I was between a rock and a hard place. I knew what I had to do. Incredibly, I was about to start stripping in the middle of the auditorium. Fortunately, the large room was quite dark, so I figured that only the three of us would be aware of what was transpiring.

I unbuttoned my shirt and slipped it off. I could just barely distinguish Marcia’s open palm through the darkness as I reluctantly handed over my shirt, watching nervously as she laid it on the seat with my jacket. I remember thinking how fortuitous it was that I wore a tee shirt under my shirt that day. But I had the foreboding feeling that my tee shirt would eventually belong to Marcia. I sat there, trembling in anticipation and dread.

Marcia waited a couple of minutes before turning her attention back to me. “I’ll take your shoes and socks now, pumpkin,” she said in a hushed tone while she had a hand on my shoulder.

Cringing, I leaned over and untied my shoes, removing them and my socks. I placed my socks inside my shoes and handed them to Marcia, who added them to her collection. I shivered when my feet contacted the cold floor. I looked around and was relieved that it was dark enough to obscure the sordid doings in the middle of the auditorium.

About five minutes went by before Marcia’s next overture. She took hold of the short sleeve of my tee shirt to pull me toward her and again spoke softly into my ear, in a very friendly tone of voice. “I’ll take your undershirt now, darling.”

I hesitated, took a deep breath, then in resignation I complied. I leaned over, pulled the tee shirt from the collar over my head and off my arms. When Marcia tried to take it from me, I temporarily resisted before opening my palm in surrender.

“That’s a good boy,” said the amused Marcia in a throaty whisper as she patted my bare chest.

I crossed my arms over my chest, quivering with an extreme sense of dread. I remember what a naked feeling it was, even though I was still wearing my pants. Of course, I knew what was coming next—it was just a question of when the devilish Marcia would hit me with her next shot.

Tantalizingly, she waited almost a full ten minutes before her next calculated move. Again she pressed her lips to my left ear. “You can take your pants off for me now, sweetie,” she directed, again with a teasing, friendly voice.

Although this was no surprise, it was as if I was hit with a sledgehammer. I was about to be stripped to my tighty-whities with the whole student body surrounding me. I hesitated momentarily before being nudged on my right arm by Mitch, who was obviously in tune with his partner-in-mischief.
I deliberately undid my belt and the button to my jeans before zipping them down. I slipped them down my legs. Marcia giggled as I bent over and slipped my jeans off my feet and handed them over to her outstretched hands. I watched forlornly as my pants disappeared in the darkness. What a miserable and helpless feeling it was to be sitting there like that, not knowing when or if I would get my clothes back.

Again I was made to wait for an extended period with no further word from Marcia. At one point Mitch, to my consternation, ran his hand up and down my thigh. “Nice and smooth, Blondie,” he said in a soft, husky tone. I cringed as he pulled his hand away while chuckling to himself.

After a few more excruciating minutes, the inevitable happened. I felt Marcia’s hand on my bare shoulder as she leaned toward me. I stiffened in my seat, bracing myself for what almost assuredly was coming. “Take off your underpants,” was all she said before pulling back into her seat.

It was only four words, but they were oh, so potent. I flushed intensely from head to toe, and sat paralyzed, hoping beyond hope that by ignoring her, the living nightmare would somehow go away. But only a few seconds elapsed before she nudged me in the shoulder and reached down and flicked the elastic of my underpants, pressing for my compliance. I grabbed her hand and leaned towards her in an act of desperation.

“Please, Marcia,” I said anxiously. “I’m begging you, please…Please don’t make me do this! I’ll do anything, but please, I can’t do this….” I squeezed her hand tightly for effect, then let go and leaned back in my chair. There was no immediate response from Marcia, which gave me cause for optimism.

A couple of minutes went by, and by then I had convinced myself that she was feeling compassion for me. I was just starting to feel confident enough to ask her for my clothes back when she leaned toward me, putting her lips directly over my ear canal. This time the friendliness to her voice was gone, and she spoke the words very slowly, clearly, and authoritatively.

“Give.…me….your.…underpants………..now!”

I was devastated. My situation was hopeless. I closed my eyes tightly and braced myself for the abject humiliation.

I lifted my hips and, incredulous at what was taking place, I slipped my underpants down my legs and off my feet. I let out a gasp while the sinister Marcia snatched my underpants from my clutches.

I was completely naked in the auditorium, surrounded by the entire student body.

I immediately, almost involuntarily covered my crotch with my hands, even though it was too dark for anybody to see anything down there. My knees were clenched together, and my elbows dug into my sides as I bent over with my head almost to my knees. Marcia leaned over to me and put her hand on my back and her mouth to my left ear. I could sense her delight as she tickled my ear with her soft, mellifluous voice. “Excellent, Blondie. You’re naked, yes you are! Can’t you just die?”

My only response was rapid, heavy breathing. She merrily repeated the word “naked” several times. As if I needed to be reminded of my dire predicament. “Naked. Naked, naked, naked, naked, nayked! Now sit up straight like the good naked boy you are, and enjoy the play,” she said.

I obeyed by sitting up, but enjoying the play was clearly out of the question. “Oh, God,” I whispered to no one in particular.

My knees remained pressed together, my arms were stiff, and my hands still clenched my genitals. I made numerous glances at my clothes. I could only see their outline, but the knowledge that they were close by was my only ray of hope. My apprehension was extreme, as I wondered if I would get them back before the lights came on. The play would surely be over within the next half hour.

I continued just sitting there, not really seeing or hearing the performance. My heart was beating a mile a minute as time wore on and Marcia showed no sign of relinquishing my clothes.

At one point that ray of hope shined brighter. I saw Marcia sifting through my clothes. She turned toward me with my jacket in her hands. I reached for the jacket, but the sadistic Marcia pulled it close to her. “It’s a little chilly in here, Blondie. I hope you don’t mind if I borrow your coat.”

The giggling Marcia wrapped my jacket around her while I sat, naked and shivering.


The Flashlight

After about fifteen minutes of inactivity, my sorry situation took a turn for the worse. First, I felt Mitch’s hand take my right wrist and pull it toward him, resting it on the armrest. “Leave it there,” he instructed.

That was Marcia’s cue to repeat the same maneuver with my left hand. “Don’t you dare move your hand,” was her command.

I now felt extremely vulnerable, and to my chagrin my vulnerability was about to be exploited. The diabolical Marcia reached into her purse and produced a small flashlight. She proceeded to flip the switch and shine it right on my exposed genitals.

My immediate reaction was to cover my nudity with my hands, but Marcia and Mitch had anticipated this, and each had a firm grip on my wrists, holding them to the armrests. Marcia put her lips to my ear. “If you cover yourself up you’ll never see your clothes again,” she warned. “And spread your knees out,” she said while pulling on my left knee with her free hand. "I want a clear view of your little bits."

I unclenched my knees and with considerable effort I spread them a few inches apart. Marcia and Mitch relaxed their grips on my wrists. I fought my natural inclination to cover myself and I kept my hands on the armrest as Marcia pointed the light directly at my crotch.

Back then I still hadn’t grown any pubic hair, and my mortification was extreme, as Marcia and Mitch had a full view of my very naked genitals. Both were using the palm of their hand to muffle their laughter.

Again Marcia put her mouth to my ear. “Such a cute wittle naked boy you are, Blondie,” she taunted. “And you have such a teensy wittle wee-wee, yes you do!.” She held the light on my “little wee-wee” for a few more seconds while she giggled some more. Then she shined the light on my blushing face and must have noticed that I looked like I could start crying at any second. “Oh, you’re not going to cwy, wittle boy, are you? Does wittle Blondie want his mommy?” I managed to hold back the tears, knowing that would only make matters worse.

Then, to my great distress Marcia shined the light at the row in front of me, revealing three grinning faces turned in my direction. One by one Marcia shined the light on Joanna and then another girl, an attractive brunette I recognized from my homeroom (her name is Brenda). The light then moved to yet another girl, whom I later found out was a friend of Brenda’s, a buxom blond named Cheryl.

Marcia then shined the light on my face so they could all take in my red-faced look of shock. She then lowered the light back down to her target as I sat there and absorbed the overwhelming humiliation.


Sexually Aroused

Though it’s probably hard for you to believe, my plight was about to worsen. Marcia took my left hand and wrapped my fingers around the flashlight. “Keep this shining on your little wee-wee, Blondie,” she ordered. So not only was I forced to sit there naked while at least five people stared at me, I had to suffer the further indignity of playing a role in my own debasement. As I sat there holding the light, I remember thinking that the depravity couldn’t sink any lower.

But I’m sorry to tell you that I was wrong, as indeed it was lowered to another level. A few minutes after Marcia handed off the flashlight, I felt her hand on the inside of my knee. She strummed her fingers while playfully working her way up the inside of my thigh. I flinched and jerked my body back when her hand reached a very sensitive spot high on my thigh, perilously close to my balls. Marcia giggled and rested her hand high on my thigh. That must have been a sign for Mitch, because he then took hold of my right wrist and pulled it toward him. At first I resisted, but then I succumbed, knowing that defiance would be fruitless.

Then—and it’s difficult for me to talk about this—he pulled my hand down to his crotch. He had unclasped and loosened his pants, and to my utter horror he directed my hand inside his boxer shorts and straight to his penis. He must have brought a small tube of Vaseline or something, because his penis was already lubricated. “Play with it, Blondie,” he whispered in my ear.

He let go of my wrist and waited for me to perform the distasteful act. I couldn’t compel myself to submit to him. I retracted my hand, knowing full well that it would provoke a reprisal. Sure enough, Mitch leaned forward and spoke loud enough for Marcia to hear. “Marcia, give me his clothes.”

“Okay! Okay, I’ll do it!” I whispered in a semi-panic.

I reached over and put my hand back inside Mitch’s shorts. Disgusted, I started fondling his penis. It was already semi-erect, but it really came to life with my touch. I was repulsed and stopped momentarily. Again Mitch leaned to my ear. “Just keep stroking it, Blondie,” he commanded. “I’ll tell you when to stop.” I swallowed hard and continued to do his bidding. “A little higher,” he instructed. “Yeah, that’s it…up and down…yeah, just like that…ohhh, yes, very nice,” he said before leaning back in sexual pleasure.

My left hand held the flashlight shining on my genitals as I continued caressing his now rock-hard, slimy penis with my right. After a couple of minutes, I felt Mitch’s left hand stroking the inside of my right thigh. Within seconds Marcia began stroking the inside of my left thigh. Her fingers would occasionally dart over to my balls, and I must say I’d never felt anything quite like that before—self-stimulation didn’t compare. Then, much to my dismay, despite my mortification, I started to get aroused. As Marcia concentrated more on my balls, no matter how hard I fought it I was becoming more erect. I heard Marcia and the girls in front of me giggle, while Mitch was moaning pleasurably.

Marcia put her lips right into to my ear and whispered, “You like that, don’t you, my naked little pet.” She then wiggled her tongue all around the inside of my ear, and I had a tingling sensation throughout my whole body, the likes of which I’d never experienced before. Then Mitch started stroking the underside of my penis and within a few seconds I had a full-fledged hard-on, such as it was. I probably was just a little over half the size of Mitch.

I heard Marcia giggle some more, and I could tell from the giggling coming from the row in front of me that Joanna, Brenda and Cheryl were enjoying the show, too—and I don’t mean the play.

All I could hear from Mitch were groans of pleasure as I dutifully continued stimulating his raging penis. Then Mitch squeezed something on his hand—probably Vaseline—and spread it all over my penis, a move that only enhanced my state of sexual excitement. Marcia concentrated on my balls, gently tickling them with her fingers. I must admit that at that point I momentarily forgot about my dreadful situation, that of being naked in a crowded auditorium while being molested by two students. As I came closer to ejaculation I closed my eyes and got lost in the moment.

“Oh…oh…oh, God, please, no…” I moaned as softly as I could.

The four girls were trying to stifle their giggles and I must have stopped my grudging servitude to Mitch, because he leaned to my ear again. “Don’t stop, Blondie!” he said, almost desperately. “Pump my cock. Pump it!”

I took hold of his penis and started jacking him off in earnest, disgusting as it was. Mitch proceeded to do the same to me. I remember losing focus of the flashlight and feeling Marcia guide it toward her mark with one hand while massaging my balls with the other.

I felt Mitch’s penis start to pulsate right about the same time that I reached orgasm. I lifted my hips off the seat and moaned, as the sensation was overwhelming. Marcia and Mitch didn’t let up until I finished, at which point I slumped back down in my seat.

A few seconds went by before Mitch leaned over and spoke quietly in my ear. “Nothing quite like simultaneous orgasm, huh Blondie?” he said while patting my thigh.


Frantic Recovery of Clothes

It was at that point that the loud ovation from the entire student body brought me back to my senses. For one horrifying moment I actually thought they were cheering my orgasm, but then I realized that the play had ended and they were clapping in anticipation of a curtain call.

That was only a minor consolation, as it hit me that I was still naked and that the lights would go on at any moment. I pulled my hand out from Mitch’s pants. I remember brushing across the wetness on his midsection and being disgusted with the stark realization that I had gotten him off.

But I had more immediate concerns. I had to get dressed as quickly as possible. So as not to waste any time, instead of asking Marcia for my clothes I reached around her to retrieve them myself.

Imagine my dismay when I found only my shoes and socks. My clothes were gone!

Now in a panic, I put both of my hands on Marcia’s shoulders and shook them passionately. “Where are my clothes?!” I asked frantically. I grabbed for my jacket, but she clutched it tightly around her chest. Without saying a word, the giggling Marcia shined the light one by one on the three grinning girls in front of me, who were each holding an article of my clothing, suspending them with two hands, right below their chins. Joanna had my pants, Cheryl had my shirt and Brenda had my underpants. My tee shirt was draped around Brenda’s neck. As I quickly reached out for them, they just as quickly retracted.

“I guess you’ll have to go get them, Blondie,” laughed Marcia.

I started to climb over the seat when Marcia slapped one of my protruding ass cheeks and took hold of my leg, pulling me back. “Not that way, silly boy,” she chided. “You’ll have to go around.”

Not having any other choice, I made the frightful trek to retrieve my clothes. The cast was making their curtain calls, so time was running out. I weaved my way across the row as quickly as I could. On my way, the wicked Marcia shined the light on my naked ass. This elicited a reaction from a couple of students.

“What the hell?” I heard from one, and “Hey, the guy’s naked!” from another.

Fortunately, not many heard them over the noise from the ovation. I reached the row in front of me and made my way toward my clothes. Again Marcia shined the light on me and I quickly ducked down. I crawled the rest of the way on my hands and knees.

When I reached the empty seat next to Joanna I grabbed my pants from her grasp, not even considering taking the time to get my underpants and tee shirt from Brenda. I quickly slipped my pants on. The sensation of donning my pants minus my underpants was becoming all too familiar.

As the lights came on, Cheryl tossed my shirt to me. I hurriedly slipped it on and buttoned it up, hoping not to be discovered by the mass of students. It probably wasn’t so, but it seemed like everybody in the auditorium was staring at me. My face felt like it was on fire; I’m sure it was tomato red.
I looked back and the grinning Marcia handed me my shoes, socks and jacket. I put them on and started filing out of the auditorium.

When I reached the hallway, I was surrounded by all five of the grinning culprits who had put me through the staggering humiliation. I looked straight down at the floor, too shamed to look any of them in the eyes.

“That was a very uplifting play, Blondie,” Mitch called out. “Don’t you think?”

To the sounds of laughter, I walked away speedily without answering.

* * * * *

The next morning I walked into homeroom with considerable dread, knowing I would have to face one of my antagonists from the day before.

My dread would be justified. When I reached my desk in the front row, I discovered my underwear that I had stripped off in the auditorium. My tee shirt was draped across the back of my seat and my underpants were neatly spread across my desk. I quickly snatched them up and stuffed them in my backpack.

When I sat down, I couldn’t help but take a glance back and make eye contact with Brenda, who was grinning widely at my profusely blushing face.