Tricked by the Hottest Girl at School
Posted: Fri Aug 30, 2024 9:56 pm
The following is another true story told to me in a private message from a member of the old WebApps board. In this case the message was lost when the site sadly closed so I have had to rewrite it as best as my memory serves. As it is a complete rewrite, I have taken the opportunity to narrate it more in the style of a fictional story, rather than the prosaic form of the original message, inserting imagined dialogue as I saw fit. But don’t let that fool you, I have neither changed nor exaggerated any key plot points. To the best of my knowledge, the story is true!
Unfortunately I lost contact with him long before the site closed so I am a little hesitant to post it here without permission, but I figured since I am rewriting it in my own words and keeping his identity anonymous, he wouldn’t mind me sharing. It seemed to me far too good a story to keep to myself!
If of course the writer recognises his story and wishes me to take it down, I will do so immediately.
For the purposes of telling the story, I will call him Sam. This was one school day he never forgot…
*
Tricked by the Hottest Girl at School
June, early 2000s
Somewhere near Nottingham, UK
I should never have fallen for it, I know. I don’t know what I was thinking letting myself get lured into what was so clearly a trap. But I did. Maybe it was the heat of that sunny June day getting to my head, or maybe it was the fact that it was Debbie, the most gorgeous girl in our year, that made me go along with the dare. After all, what’s a fifteen-year-old boy to do if the hottest girl in the year says she’ll let you touch her boobs if you can escape from being tied to a tree in under two minutes?
Like an idiot, a lamb, I followed her round the back of the Geography block at lunch time, near to the playground where there was a small group of trees, hidden from view. This would be easy, I thought, it was only an old skipping rope. I mean, how tight could one girl tie it?
“Okay, take your blazer off and stand with you back against this one,” said Debbie, gesturing to the trunk of a medium sized tree with the handle of the rope. Excitedly, I complied, shucking my blazer off to fall on the patchy, dried up grass and stepping up to where she had pointed.
The bark of the tree felt a little rough against my hands as she positioned them away from me, round to the sides. Looking back, I don’t know how I remained so confident I could easily escape. I guess all that was going through my horny teenage mind was boobies and not how tightly she was securing my hands behind me.
Having finished with my hands, she then looped the skipping rope around my front a couple of times and tied it off at the back again. My hands and torso were now well and truly stuck, but I could still move my legs. I thought that if I could maybe wriggle down the trunk, the rope would slacken off and I’d be able to sort of duck out of it or something.
It was not as simple as I’d thought.
“Right… Two minutes,” she said, looking at her watch. “Go!”
I wriggled. I twisted. I tried to move my wrists. Nothing. She’d tied that thing fucking hard! I tried to reach around with my fingers, searching for the knot but I could barely move two inches. This was not good, and for the first time I started to worry. What would happen if I couldn’t free myself in time? Would she untie me and that would be that? Or would she walk off and leave me there? My naïve little brain couldn’t possibly imagine she’d do anything worse than that.
“That’s one minute gone…” she announced, smirking. “You don’t seem to be doing very well, Sam.”
Stating the bloody obvious! I’d barely moved.
“One minute to go,” she laughed.
I changed tactic and began trying to use my legs. Pressing one foot against the trunk, I tried to sort of prise myself away at the front — maybe I could stretch the rope or the knot enough for it to loosen. I had to stop almost immediately as it just cut in painfully against my wrists. If anything, I think I had just made the knot even tighter. I tried to take little jumps, bouncing on the balls of my feet — maybe the up and down motion would sort of jiggle the rope loose. Nope. The rope moved a bit around my front but not enough for it to shake loose. This was not at all as straight forward as I was expecting. I reckoned even Houdini would struggle getting out of this!
“TIME!” Debbie said triumphantly, showing me her watch as the second hand passed twelve.
My heart fell. No boobies, and I had just made myself look pathetic in front of her, completely unable to break free.
“Now for your forfeit…” she declared and crouched down and began untying my shoelaces.
I was completely baffled and now more than a little alarmed. FORFEIT?! She’s said nothing about a forfeit when she made the deal.
“What are you doing?” I asked, looking down at her as she made short work of untying my school shoes and slipping one off.
“Your forfeit,” she explained, as though I was being stupid.
“Wait!” I spluttered. “You didn’t say I’d have to pay a forfeit!”
She just looked up at me grinning. “Of course you do… It would’t be a bet if you didn’t have to pay a forfeit.”
My heart began to race. What was she going to do?
Having taken off my shoe, she then proceeded to take hold of my sock and pull.
“HEY!” I yelled, really starting to panic now. “What the hell are you doing?!”
The brown, dusty grass felt scratchy against my now bare foot as she put it down. She didn’t answer my question, but simply straightened up, holding my shoe in one hand and reaching forward towards my face with my sock in the other. She was going to gag me! She was going to gag me with my own sock!
“Open up, Sam,” she said calmly, coming at my mouth with the balled up sweaty sock.
“NO! FUCK OFF!” I yelled, twisting my head this way and that to avoid the gag.
“Open up, or I’ll get all my friends to come over too!”
That fucking did it. I really didn’t want her to gag me but I REALLY didn’t want any more girls to come over.
Reluctantly, obediently, I opened my mouth and she promptly inserted my own sock inside. It tasted awful. Then, without hesitation, she brought my shoe across my mouth like it was a breathing mask you get in hospitals; the opening perfectly housing the balled up sock, the toe end of the shoe poking my forehead. Finally, to complete the job, she reached around the back of my head and tied the laces together, securing the shoe just as expertly as she had done the skipping rope. I couldn’t believe the predicament I was in. I was tied up, out of sight of any teachers, gagged with my own shoe and sock; completely unable to move or make a sound other than a muted “MMMPH!”
Satisfied I was rendered entirely incapable of escape or calling for help, she stood back to look me up and down. I was praying that was the end of the forfeit — the indignity of having a smelly shoe tied round my face and the shame that I had been got the better of by a girl — but I had a nasty feeling she wasn’t quite done yet. My suspicion was confirmed a moment later when from her bag she produced a second skipping rope.
As she advanced on me yet again, skipping rope bared between her hands I felt cold terror sweep through me. If what she had just done with my shoe was anything to go by, this new rope only spelled danger. Writhing around and “MMMPH-ing” for all I was worth, I saw she was coming in low, clearly about to start tying my ankles together. Girl or not, I didn’t care, I started kicking my legs out at her, determined not to let her go any further. She just stopped, looking at me with an exasperated expression, as if to say, “Really? You think kicking me is a good idea right now?”
“Well, it looks like I’ll have to get my girlfriends to come over after all… for backup,” she said, smiling. She dropped the rope and turned, as if to leave for the direction of the playground.
“MMMPH!” I yelled again and shook my head desperately.
“You sure? You promise not to kick me?”
Feeling weak, helpless, I nodded and went still for her.
“Okay then… Legs together for me, sweetie.”
Miserably I shuffled my feet together — one shoe on, the other foot bared, feeling lopsided and extremely vulnerable. She began tying my ankles tightly together and just as she had my torso, she looped the rope around the tree a few times. I could now barely move a muscle from my shoulders to my feet.
Once again she stood back, smiling as she regarded her handiwork. I just stared back, willing her not to do what I thought she was about to do.
“Did you really think I’d let you touch my boobs?” she laughed. I didn’t bother to respond; I couldn’t anyway. “Well, now that I’ve got you all tied up,” she continued, “I could do anything I like with you… How do you feel about that?”
I feel fucking terrified! That’s how I feel, you stupid bitch!
She stepped up close to me again and I could see the excited glint in here eye. She brought her hands to the front of my trousers, gripping the little clasp that held the waistband together.
“If I wanted to, I could pull your trousers down…”
I could hardly breathe, and not just because I had my shoe tied across my mouth and nose. I felt cold fear spreading out from the place she now had her hands, creeping all over my body. Silently I shook my head, pleading for her not to do it.
“No? You don’t want me to pull your trousers down?” She asked pleasantly, teasingly. Again I shook my head desperately.
“Well, you know what? I think you should beg. If you don’t want your trousers pulled down, I want to hear you beg me not to.”
Pointlessly, again I “MMMPH-ed” as loudly as I could but with the sock and shoe across my face no words came out.
She frowned in mock confusion. “What’s that, Sam? I can’t make that out.”
“MMMPH! MMMMPHHH!” I cried but it was of course no use.
“No? You’re not going to beg?” she said wickedly, deliberately choosing not to interpret my frantic noises as actual words. “Then I guess I can do what I like then.”
Wasting no time, she popped open the clasp. The waistband of my school trousers immediately went a little loose. By then I had given up trying to resist or beg. There was no point. No mater what I did from there on in, my trousers were coming down. I only prayed she would leave my pants where they were.
I closed my eyes, not wanting to look at hers as I felt my trouser zip being lowered. If she looked down now, she would catch her first glimpse of my pants! Then a moment later, as I felt the front of my trousers being opened like a window, flopping the fabric to either side, I heard her gasp in genuine surprise.
“OH MY GOD!” she exclaimed, and I felt her let go of my trousers suddenly. I had a pretty good idea why. “YOU STILL WEAR PANTS!”
‘Pants’ were what we called briefs, and by the end of year ten (fourth-form) very few boys still wore them. There was me and maybe four or five other guys, but all the rest had switched to boxers long ago. This was about as bad as it could possibly be. Not only had I been tied to a tree and was being stripped by a girl — the prettiest girl in our year — but she was laughing at me for wearing briefs!
I couldn’t help it, I had to know which pants I was wearing. By that point in the day I’d of course forgotten which pair I'd put on that morning, not caring which ones they were as I didn’t have PE, so was not expecting them to be seen by anyone. I opened my eyes and looked down. I felt my stomach drop. Of course I was wearing THAT pair! One of only three pairs of my old colourfully patterned set.
“RED AND BLUE, STRIPY PANTS!” Debbie screamed with laughter, and I felt those words hit me like a punch in the belly.
Still laughing, she returned to her task. She gripped my trousers by the sides and quickly yanked them down all the way to my feet. I felt more exposed and vulnerable than I'd ever felt in my life.
But then it got worse.
“OH MY GOD, LOOK!”
“WOAH!”
“IS THAT SAM BROWNING?
“SHE’S GOT HIS TROUSERS DOWN!”
I knew those voices. They were girls in my class.
A second later we were surrounded by four ecstatic girls, all giggling and shrieking at me.
“I can’t believe he wears pants like a little kid!” laughed Amy. Again those words hit me deep.
“Open his shirt, Debbie, let’s have a proper look!”
Instinctively I flinched away, trying to avoid what Laura had just suggested but then gave up as Debbie quickly got her fingers around my tie, loosened it, letting it fall to the ground, and began working her way down the buttons of my school shirt.
The breeze felt cold, despite the heat of the day, as my chest, then tummy, and finally all of my stupid, skimpy red and blue stripy briefs were exposed. The girls were besides themselves as they took in the sight: me, a fifteen-year-old, year ten student, tied to a tree and gagged with his own shoe, wearing nothing but a shirt that was flapping open, his trousers that were pooled around his ankles, one shoe, and those incredibly childish red and blue pants. I could have happily died in that moment, just to escape.
For a few moments they all just stared at me, and I looked around fearfully at them. I was absolutely convinced their next move was surely to pull my pants down, or at least fondle my junk for a few seconds, maybe try to make me hard. But they didn’t — thank God! What they did do, however, was not a lot better. They pulled my crumpled trousers from my feet and threw them up into the next tree to me. Debbie then stepped behind me again and began to undo the knots holding my arms and legs in place. I thought she was going to untie them all the way but just before she did, she stopped.
“Now, don’t even think about telling a teacher about this,” she said, coming back around to look me in the eye. “If you do, we’ll have to get you again — believe me, we will — and this time we’ll pull your little boy pants down.”
She needn’t have threatened me; there was absolutely NO WAY I was going to tell ANYONE about this, EVER!
Still smirking and giggling, the girls all sauntered away, leaving me still tied up but with the knots loose enough that I could easily untie them when they’d gone.
Shaking, I reached behind my head and tried to undo my shoelaces. When they didn’t come free I just grabbed the shoe and angrily yanked it off my face, spiting my sock out and taking a much needed gasp of air. Miserably I set about gathering up my various discarded clothes, making sure to do my shirt back up first to hide as much of my pants as I could. Lastly, all that remained was my trousers. Peering into the tree top, I saw them at once, dangling from one of the middle branches. There was no way I could reach them by jumping so my only option was to climb.
It was harder than it looked to get a good footing. I hated to think what I must look like if anyone came around the corner and saw me: trouser-less, desperately wrestling with the trunk to get up to the first branch, my brightly coloured briefs flashing around as I struggled to get a foot hold. Eventually I managed it and scurried up to retrieve my precious trousers. With some effort I managed to put them back on whilst still in the tree and jumped back down.
I kept a very low profile for the rest of the day. Fortunately it was Friday and I didn’t have any lessons with those girls that afternoon, so it wouldn’t be ’til Monday that I’d have to see them again. When Monday came around, I made damn sure to wear my least embarrassing, plain black pair of briefs, just in case they tried to strip me again, but they never did. Occasionally when I was alone and they passed me, one of them would ask: “Got your red stripy pants on today, Sam?” but I didn't say anything, just hurried off and they stopped bringing it up after a while. I guess they didn’t want that day being talked about openly any more than I did. If I’d told a teacher, they could have got into a lot of trouble, but I didn’t.
I never told anyone about it, until now!
Unfortunately I lost contact with him long before the site closed so I am a little hesitant to post it here without permission, but I figured since I am rewriting it in my own words and keeping his identity anonymous, he wouldn’t mind me sharing. It seemed to me far too good a story to keep to myself!
If of course the writer recognises his story and wishes me to take it down, I will do so immediately.
For the purposes of telling the story, I will call him Sam. This was one school day he never forgot…
*
Tricked by the Hottest Girl at School
June, early 2000s
Somewhere near Nottingham, UK
I should never have fallen for it, I know. I don’t know what I was thinking letting myself get lured into what was so clearly a trap. But I did. Maybe it was the heat of that sunny June day getting to my head, or maybe it was the fact that it was Debbie, the most gorgeous girl in our year, that made me go along with the dare. After all, what’s a fifteen-year-old boy to do if the hottest girl in the year says she’ll let you touch her boobs if you can escape from being tied to a tree in under two minutes?
Like an idiot, a lamb, I followed her round the back of the Geography block at lunch time, near to the playground where there was a small group of trees, hidden from view. This would be easy, I thought, it was only an old skipping rope. I mean, how tight could one girl tie it?
“Okay, take your blazer off and stand with you back against this one,” said Debbie, gesturing to the trunk of a medium sized tree with the handle of the rope. Excitedly, I complied, shucking my blazer off to fall on the patchy, dried up grass and stepping up to where she had pointed.
The bark of the tree felt a little rough against my hands as she positioned them away from me, round to the sides. Looking back, I don’t know how I remained so confident I could easily escape. I guess all that was going through my horny teenage mind was boobies and not how tightly she was securing my hands behind me.
Having finished with my hands, she then looped the skipping rope around my front a couple of times and tied it off at the back again. My hands and torso were now well and truly stuck, but I could still move my legs. I thought that if I could maybe wriggle down the trunk, the rope would slacken off and I’d be able to sort of duck out of it or something.
It was not as simple as I’d thought.
“Right… Two minutes,” she said, looking at her watch. “Go!”
I wriggled. I twisted. I tried to move my wrists. Nothing. She’d tied that thing fucking hard! I tried to reach around with my fingers, searching for the knot but I could barely move two inches. This was not good, and for the first time I started to worry. What would happen if I couldn’t free myself in time? Would she untie me and that would be that? Or would she walk off and leave me there? My naïve little brain couldn’t possibly imagine she’d do anything worse than that.
“That’s one minute gone…” she announced, smirking. “You don’t seem to be doing very well, Sam.”
Stating the bloody obvious! I’d barely moved.
“One minute to go,” she laughed.
I changed tactic and began trying to use my legs. Pressing one foot against the trunk, I tried to sort of prise myself away at the front — maybe I could stretch the rope or the knot enough for it to loosen. I had to stop almost immediately as it just cut in painfully against my wrists. If anything, I think I had just made the knot even tighter. I tried to take little jumps, bouncing on the balls of my feet — maybe the up and down motion would sort of jiggle the rope loose. Nope. The rope moved a bit around my front but not enough for it to shake loose. This was not at all as straight forward as I was expecting. I reckoned even Houdini would struggle getting out of this!
“TIME!” Debbie said triumphantly, showing me her watch as the second hand passed twelve.
My heart fell. No boobies, and I had just made myself look pathetic in front of her, completely unable to break free.
“Now for your forfeit…” she declared and crouched down and began untying my shoelaces.
I was completely baffled and now more than a little alarmed. FORFEIT?! She’s said nothing about a forfeit when she made the deal.
“What are you doing?” I asked, looking down at her as she made short work of untying my school shoes and slipping one off.
“Your forfeit,” she explained, as though I was being stupid.
“Wait!” I spluttered. “You didn’t say I’d have to pay a forfeit!”
She just looked up at me grinning. “Of course you do… It would’t be a bet if you didn’t have to pay a forfeit.”
My heart began to race. What was she going to do?
Having taken off my shoe, she then proceeded to take hold of my sock and pull.
“HEY!” I yelled, really starting to panic now. “What the hell are you doing?!”
The brown, dusty grass felt scratchy against my now bare foot as she put it down. She didn’t answer my question, but simply straightened up, holding my shoe in one hand and reaching forward towards my face with my sock in the other. She was going to gag me! She was going to gag me with my own sock!
“Open up, Sam,” she said calmly, coming at my mouth with the balled up sweaty sock.
“NO! FUCK OFF!” I yelled, twisting my head this way and that to avoid the gag.
“Open up, or I’ll get all my friends to come over too!”
That fucking did it. I really didn’t want her to gag me but I REALLY didn’t want any more girls to come over.
Reluctantly, obediently, I opened my mouth and she promptly inserted my own sock inside. It tasted awful. Then, without hesitation, she brought my shoe across my mouth like it was a breathing mask you get in hospitals; the opening perfectly housing the balled up sock, the toe end of the shoe poking my forehead. Finally, to complete the job, she reached around the back of my head and tied the laces together, securing the shoe just as expertly as she had done the skipping rope. I couldn’t believe the predicament I was in. I was tied up, out of sight of any teachers, gagged with my own shoe and sock; completely unable to move or make a sound other than a muted “MMMPH!”
Satisfied I was rendered entirely incapable of escape or calling for help, she stood back to look me up and down. I was praying that was the end of the forfeit — the indignity of having a smelly shoe tied round my face and the shame that I had been got the better of by a girl — but I had a nasty feeling she wasn’t quite done yet. My suspicion was confirmed a moment later when from her bag she produced a second skipping rope.
As she advanced on me yet again, skipping rope bared between her hands I felt cold terror sweep through me. If what she had just done with my shoe was anything to go by, this new rope only spelled danger. Writhing around and “MMMPH-ing” for all I was worth, I saw she was coming in low, clearly about to start tying my ankles together. Girl or not, I didn’t care, I started kicking my legs out at her, determined not to let her go any further. She just stopped, looking at me with an exasperated expression, as if to say, “Really? You think kicking me is a good idea right now?”
“Well, it looks like I’ll have to get my girlfriends to come over after all… for backup,” she said, smiling. She dropped the rope and turned, as if to leave for the direction of the playground.
“MMMPH!” I yelled again and shook my head desperately.
“You sure? You promise not to kick me?”
Feeling weak, helpless, I nodded and went still for her.
“Okay then… Legs together for me, sweetie.”
Miserably I shuffled my feet together — one shoe on, the other foot bared, feeling lopsided and extremely vulnerable. She began tying my ankles tightly together and just as she had my torso, she looped the rope around the tree a few times. I could now barely move a muscle from my shoulders to my feet.
Once again she stood back, smiling as she regarded her handiwork. I just stared back, willing her not to do what I thought she was about to do.
“Did you really think I’d let you touch my boobs?” she laughed. I didn’t bother to respond; I couldn’t anyway. “Well, now that I’ve got you all tied up,” she continued, “I could do anything I like with you… How do you feel about that?”
I feel fucking terrified! That’s how I feel, you stupid bitch!
She stepped up close to me again and I could see the excited glint in here eye. She brought her hands to the front of my trousers, gripping the little clasp that held the waistband together.
“If I wanted to, I could pull your trousers down…”
I could hardly breathe, and not just because I had my shoe tied across my mouth and nose. I felt cold fear spreading out from the place she now had her hands, creeping all over my body. Silently I shook my head, pleading for her not to do it.
“No? You don’t want me to pull your trousers down?” She asked pleasantly, teasingly. Again I shook my head desperately.
“Well, you know what? I think you should beg. If you don’t want your trousers pulled down, I want to hear you beg me not to.”
Pointlessly, again I “MMMPH-ed” as loudly as I could but with the sock and shoe across my face no words came out.
She frowned in mock confusion. “What’s that, Sam? I can’t make that out.”
“MMMPH! MMMMPHHH!” I cried but it was of course no use.
“No? You’re not going to beg?” she said wickedly, deliberately choosing not to interpret my frantic noises as actual words. “Then I guess I can do what I like then.”
Wasting no time, she popped open the clasp. The waistband of my school trousers immediately went a little loose. By then I had given up trying to resist or beg. There was no point. No mater what I did from there on in, my trousers were coming down. I only prayed she would leave my pants where they were.
I closed my eyes, not wanting to look at hers as I felt my trouser zip being lowered. If she looked down now, she would catch her first glimpse of my pants! Then a moment later, as I felt the front of my trousers being opened like a window, flopping the fabric to either side, I heard her gasp in genuine surprise.
“OH MY GOD!” she exclaimed, and I felt her let go of my trousers suddenly. I had a pretty good idea why. “YOU STILL WEAR PANTS!”
‘Pants’ were what we called briefs, and by the end of year ten (fourth-form) very few boys still wore them. There was me and maybe four or five other guys, but all the rest had switched to boxers long ago. This was about as bad as it could possibly be. Not only had I been tied to a tree and was being stripped by a girl — the prettiest girl in our year — but she was laughing at me for wearing briefs!
I couldn’t help it, I had to know which pants I was wearing. By that point in the day I’d of course forgotten which pair I'd put on that morning, not caring which ones they were as I didn’t have PE, so was not expecting them to be seen by anyone. I opened my eyes and looked down. I felt my stomach drop. Of course I was wearing THAT pair! One of only three pairs of my old colourfully patterned set.
“RED AND BLUE, STRIPY PANTS!” Debbie screamed with laughter, and I felt those words hit me like a punch in the belly.
Still laughing, she returned to her task. She gripped my trousers by the sides and quickly yanked them down all the way to my feet. I felt more exposed and vulnerable than I'd ever felt in my life.
But then it got worse.
“OH MY GOD, LOOK!”
“WOAH!”
“IS THAT SAM BROWNING?
“SHE’S GOT HIS TROUSERS DOWN!”
I knew those voices. They were girls in my class.
A second later we were surrounded by four ecstatic girls, all giggling and shrieking at me.
“I can’t believe he wears pants like a little kid!” laughed Amy. Again those words hit me deep.
“Open his shirt, Debbie, let’s have a proper look!”
Instinctively I flinched away, trying to avoid what Laura had just suggested but then gave up as Debbie quickly got her fingers around my tie, loosened it, letting it fall to the ground, and began working her way down the buttons of my school shirt.
The breeze felt cold, despite the heat of the day, as my chest, then tummy, and finally all of my stupid, skimpy red and blue stripy briefs were exposed. The girls were besides themselves as they took in the sight: me, a fifteen-year-old, year ten student, tied to a tree and gagged with his own shoe, wearing nothing but a shirt that was flapping open, his trousers that were pooled around his ankles, one shoe, and those incredibly childish red and blue pants. I could have happily died in that moment, just to escape.
For a few moments they all just stared at me, and I looked around fearfully at them. I was absolutely convinced their next move was surely to pull my pants down, or at least fondle my junk for a few seconds, maybe try to make me hard. But they didn’t — thank God! What they did do, however, was not a lot better. They pulled my crumpled trousers from my feet and threw them up into the next tree to me. Debbie then stepped behind me again and began to undo the knots holding my arms and legs in place. I thought she was going to untie them all the way but just before she did, she stopped.
“Now, don’t even think about telling a teacher about this,” she said, coming back around to look me in the eye. “If you do, we’ll have to get you again — believe me, we will — and this time we’ll pull your little boy pants down.”
She needn’t have threatened me; there was absolutely NO WAY I was going to tell ANYONE about this, EVER!
Still smirking and giggling, the girls all sauntered away, leaving me still tied up but with the knots loose enough that I could easily untie them when they’d gone.
Shaking, I reached behind my head and tried to undo my shoelaces. When they didn’t come free I just grabbed the shoe and angrily yanked it off my face, spiting my sock out and taking a much needed gasp of air. Miserably I set about gathering up my various discarded clothes, making sure to do my shirt back up first to hide as much of my pants as I could. Lastly, all that remained was my trousers. Peering into the tree top, I saw them at once, dangling from one of the middle branches. There was no way I could reach them by jumping so my only option was to climb.
It was harder than it looked to get a good footing. I hated to think what I must look like if anyone came around the corner and saw me: trouser-less, desperately wrestling with the trunk to get up to the first branch, my brightly coloured briefs flashing around as I struggled to get a foot hold. Eventually I managed it and scurried up to retrieve my precious trousers. With some effort I managed to put them back on whilst still in the tree and jumped back down.
I kept a very low profile for the rest of the day. Fortunately it was Friday and I didn’t have any lessons with those girls that afternoon, so it wouldn’t be ’til Monday that I’d have to see them again. When Monday came around, I made damn sure to wear my least embarrassing, plain black pair of briefs, just in case they tried to strip me again, but they never did. Occasionally when I was alone and they passed me, one of them would ask: “Got your red stripy pants on today, Sam?” but I didn't say anything, just hurried off and they stopped bringing it up after a while. I guess they didn’t want that day being talked about openly any more than I did. If I’d told a teacher, they could have got into a lot of trouble, but I didn’t.
I never told anyone about it, until now!