Pantsing and Stripping Forums

Here’s another story about a girl who things she’s just getting a physical but things take a turn. Enjoy and let me know how I did.

Morgan had always kept to herself in school. With her ghostly pale skin and jet-black hair, she stood out without meaning to, an eerie contrast against the sea of ordinary faces. She wasn’t just short—she was small, with delicate features that made people mistake her for a middle schooler, sometimes even younger. It didn’t matter that she dressed in thick, oversized layers, favoring band tees, ripped jeans, and scuffed boots. The grunge style was more than a fashion choice; it was armor, a way to look tougher, older. Anything but the fragile, doll-like girl people assumed she was.
The high school hallways weren’t unkind to her, but they weren’t welcoming either. She wasn’t bullied outright, just… overlooked. Like a shadow moving through the crowd. It was safer that way. She’d seen how brutal kids could be when they found an easy target, and she refused to be one.

But today was different.

Morgan sat stiffly in the hallway, flipping through an old, dog-eared magazine she wasn’t really reading. The walls smelled faintly of antiseptic and cheap vanilla air freshener, the kind meant to be comforting but instead felt suffocating. A small fan hummed in the corner, barely stirring the air.

Her heart had been racing since that morning when the principal made the announcement over the intercom: all freshmen were required to get a physical for the school year.

A routine check-up, they called it. Standard procedure. Nothing to worry about.

But for Morgan, it was a nightmare waiting to unfold.

She’d never liked doctor visits, not because she feared them, but because they reminded her of how small she really was. They reminded her that no matter how tough she tried to look, no matter how many layers she wrapped herself in, she couldn’t hide from what she was underneath.

And now, she was about to be examined, measured, scrutinized, exposed.

The thought made her stomach churn. She pulled her jacket tighter around her, gripping the magazine in her lap as if it could ground her.

A sharp knock on the door jolted her from her thoughts.
Before she could react, the nurse entered, a clipboard in hand, her expression unreadable.

“Morgan, you’re next,” she said, her voice flat and professional.
Morgan swallowed hard and stood, her legs stiff as she followed the nurse down the sterile hallway. The scent of disinfectant clung to the air, sharp and artificial, mixing with the faint rubbery smell of the gym floor.

Each step felt heavier than the last.

When they entered the gymnasium, her stomach twisted. The space had been transformed into a makeshift clinic, but it felt more like a last-minute science fair setup than an actual medical facility. Folding tables lined the walls, occupied by nurses in scrubs. In the center of the gym—where students usually ran drills—rows of flimsy paper partitions created temporary “rooms.” The only real privacy came from those fragile barriers, but even from a distance, Morgan could see that some were already torn or curling at the edges.

Her pulse pounded as she took in the scene. Students in thin paper gowns stepped onto scales, hugging the crinkly fabric to themselves. A girl sat in a plastic chair, pressing a cotton ball to her arm after having blood drawn. Morgan caught glimpses of bare shoulders, exposed calves—far too much skin for her comfort.
Her fingers curled around the hem of her hoodie, gripping the fabric tightly. She didn’t belong here. She never showed skin, never even went swimming without layers. The thought of being forced into one of those flimsy gowns made her stomach churn.

The nurse guided her toward one of the partitioned areas and pulled back the curtain. Inside was a small metal stool, cold and uninviting.

“Go ahead and put this on,” the nurse said, handing her a paper gown. “Everything off.”

Morgan hesitated. “Wait—everything? Even my underwear?”
The nurse barely glanced up from her clipboard. “Yes. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

As the nurse turned to leave, Morgan’s eyes flicked involuntarily toward the corner of the partition. Her breath hitched.

A tear.

Not just a small rip, but a gap—big enough for someone to see through.

Through the sliver of space, she caught sight of movement—figures shifting just beyond the gym’s outer wall. A few students, hanging near the windows. Watching? No, probably just passing by. Probably.

But then—

A glint.

Something small, dark, and rectangular, held at just the right angle.

Morgan’s stomach plummeted. Was that… a phone?

Panic surged up her chest, sharp and hot. “Um—excuse me,” she blurted, turning back toward the nurse. “The partition—it’s ripped. I think people might be able to see in.”

The nurse let out an exasperated sigh, barely glancing up. “I’m sure it’s fine.”

Morgan’s throat tightened. “But I just—”

“Honey, no one’s looking,” the nurse cut her off, her tone clipped. “Now hurry up. The doctor doesn’t have all day.”

With that, she slipped out, letting the curtain fall shut behind her.

Morgan was left standing there, clutching the paper gown in her hands, her heart thudding against her ribs.

She turned slowly back to the tear.

The phone—if it had even been a phone—was gone now. Maybe it had been her imagination. Maybe she was being paranoid. But the pit in her stomach wouldn’t ease, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was out there, watching.

She swallowed hard, the paper gown rustling in her trembling hands. The makeshift room felt suffocating, the silence pressing in on her.

Her fingers shook as she hesitated. She had to get this over with.
With a deep breath, Morgan pulled her hoodie over her head, the cold gym air prickling against her bare arms. Her shirt followed, exposing her small, delicate frame. Her breasts were petite, almost invisible against her pale skin, her nipples barely noticeable in the dim light. She unclasped her bra, letting it fall onto the pile of clothes, leaving her bare chest exposed to the cool air.
Her stomach twisted with anxiety. She hated this, hated the vulnerability that came with undressing. But she steeled herself, pushing forward. Her jeans were next, and she hurried to strip them off, stepping out of them with a quick, jerky motion. The underwear was last.

As she hooked her fingers around the waistband, she forced herself not to think about it. Just do it, she told herself. Just do it.

As her underwear hit the floor, Morgan instinctively wrapped her arms around herself. Her skin flushed with embarrassment, despite being alone. She felt small, fragile, as though her entire body had shrunk in on itself. Her eyes darted nervously around the room, as if expecting someone to pop in. But then the silence reminded her that she was alone. Even so, she couldn’t shake the feeling of exposure.

Just as she reached for the paper gown, a glint caught her eye.
Her head snapped toward the tear in the partition, her breath catching in her throat. Her heart skipped a beat as she saw it— the phone, its screen glowing with an eerie light. It hovered just outside the gap, the faint reflection of the screen making it appear like a tiny, mocking eye.

Laughter.

Muffled, but distinct. It came from beyond the gym’s exterior wall—right outside the window.

The sound sent a jolt through her, like ice coursing through her veins. Morgan’s face burned with humiliation, her stomach knotting. She felt like she’d been punched in the gut. Her breath came in sharp, panicked gasps, her heart pounding so hard it drowned out everything else.

She lunged toward the rip, trying to see who was there, but the phone was gone. Nothing but the faint outlines of figures outside, shadows against the covered windows. The laughter had stopped, but Morgan's imagination was running wild. She pictured a group of people, their faces twisted with amusement, their eyes fixed on her naked body. The thought made her skin crawl, and she felt a cold, sick feeling curl in her stomach.

She scrambled for the paper gown, yanking it over her head with a desperation that made her hands shake. The thin fabric did nothing to make her feel covered—it barely reached mid-thigh, loose and weightless around her body. She felt like she was wearing a tissue, a flimsy barrier that offered no protection from the prying eyes she imagined outside. Her arms locked tightly over her chest, trying to shield herself from the emptiness of it, but it was no use. She felt exposed, vulnerable, and utterly humiliated.

As she stood there, frozen with embarrassment, Morgan's mind replayed the worst-case scenario. She pictured the video of her, naked and alone, spreading like wildfire through social media. She saw herself as the laughingstock of the school, her classmates snickering and pointing behind her back. The thought made her want to disappear, to crawl under a rock and hide from the world.

Before she could even catch her breath—

The curtain rustled.

Morgan barely had time to flinch before the doctor stepped inside, his eyes already on the clipboard in his hands. He didn’t look up right away, didn’t notice the way she was hugging her arms around herself, fingers digging into the crinkling fabric of the paper gown like it was the only thing keeping her together.

“Alright,” he said, his tone brisk, distracted. “Let’s get started.”
Morgan’s pulse hammered against her ribs.

Her throat was dry, but she forced the words out anyway. “Wait—”

Her voice cracked. “There’s—there’s someone outside the window.”

The doctor finally glanced up, eyebrows raising in mild irritation. “What?”

Morgan's voice trembled as she spoke, her skin crawling with unease. "I saw a phone. Through the tear in the paper. Someone's out there, watching me."

She glanced toward the rip, her eyes darting back and forth as if expecting the phone to reappear at any moment. But there was only the dull glow of light, a harsh reminder of her vulnerability.

The doctor's sigh was like a slap in the face, his dismissive tone making Morgan's heart sink. "No one's watching you," he said, not even bothering to look up from his clipboard. "Why would they?"

The words cut deep, a cruel jab that made Morgan's face burn with embarrassment. She felt like she'd been punched in the gut, her breath catching in her throat as she struggled to process the doctor's brutal honesty.

He flipped a page on his clipboard, his eyes scanning the contents with a detached air. "You're not exactly... blessed in the chest department, are you?" he said, his voice dripping with disdain. "I mean, it's not like you've got anything worth looking at. You're basically a couple of mosquito bites on a stick."

The doctor's words were a knife to Morgan's self-esteem, a vicious attack that left her reeling. She felt like she'd been stripped bare, her insecurities and fears laid out for the doctor to mock and belittle. Her face burned with shame, her eyes stinging with tears as she struggled to keep her composure.

Morgan's body locked up, her muscles tense with humiliation. She bit down on the inside of her cheek, hard enough to hurt, trying to shove down the lump rising in her throat. She would not cry. Not in front of him. But it was hard to breathe, hard to think, as the doctor's cruel words echoed in her mind.

But no matter how much she tried to steady herself, her skin still felt like it was on fire. The way he said it. The way he dismissed her. Like she was just some dumb, awkward kid no one would ever look at twice.

She wanted to scream. She wanted to crawl out of her own skin.
Instead, she just nodded, lips pressing together to keep them from trembling.

“Okay,” she whispered.

The doctor didn’t notice. He was already turning back to his clipboard, already moving on like nothing had happened.

Morgan didn’t dare look at the window again, because if she did…she was afraid she might still see the phone

The doctor didn’t seem to notice her discomfort as he flipped another page on his clipboard and moved closer. He gestured toward the small examination table near the wall. “Sit here,” he ordered, his tone still detached. “I need to check your breathing.”
Morgan shuffled to the table, her legs feeling weak beneath her. She climbed onto the cold surface, gripping the edge of the paper gown tightly, trying to steady herself. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she was still being watched, that eyes were on her, even though she knew it was probably just her paranoia taking over.

The doctor stood at the foot of the table, eyes focused on his clipboard as he pressed the stethoscope against her chest. His cold fingers sent a jolt through her body, and she couldn’t help but tense, the thin fabric of the gown providing almost no warmth. He didn’t seem to care as he moved the stethoscope over her ribs, not saying a word, just taking notes as though she was another patient, another set of numbers to record.

“Breathe in,” he commanded.

Morgan obeyed, the cold air filling her lungs, but she barely felt the oxygen as she focused on the sharpness of the stethoscope against her skin. Her breath wavered as she exhaled.

“Again,” he said, moving the stethoscope a little higher.
Her heartbeat thundered in her chest, each breath feeling shallow as she tried to ignore the sudden, overwhelming sensation of being entirely too exposed.

“Alright,” the doctor said after a few more moments of silent listening. He made a few more notes on the clipboard and then looked at her again. “Now, sit up straight. I’m going to check your reflexes.”

Morgan nodded numbly, feeling a little lightheaded, but she sat up as instructed, clutching the paper gown even tighter around herself. She could feel the edges of the gown riding up her thighs, the flimsy material making her feel even more exposed than before.

He took out a small reflex hammer from the pocket of his lab coat and lightly tapped the top of her knee. The brief sting of the tap made her jerk, her foot twitching involuntarily.

“Good. Now the other side,” he said, moving to the other knee.
Morgan winced when he tapped it, the sensation sharp and sudden. She hated this. She hated feeling so small, so powerless. But she held herself still, not daring to move or speak.

After a few more routine checks, the doctor finally placed the reflex hammer down and turned back to his clipboard, reading over his notes.

“Now,” he said, not bothering to meet her eyes. “I need you to remove the gown. I need to check for anything that could be considered cancerous.”

Morgan’s stomach dropped. She felt as though the room had gotten smaller, the walls closing in around her. Her fingers clutched the gown even tighter, as if it were the only thing that was keeping her from being completely exposed.

“I—I don’t…” Her voice faltered, the words choking in her throat. “I’m not… ready for that.”

The doctor didn’t look up from his clipboard. “You have to,” he said flatly. “It’s part of the exam. We’re not wasting time, and the longer we wait, the more at risk you are.”

The words felt like a punch, the coldness of his voice making everything feel even more unbearable. She swallowed hard, but her throat felt tight, like it was closing up. She couldn’t breathe. She wanted to escape, to just disappear, but there was nowhere to go. She was stuck.

“Morgan,” the doctor said, sounding impatient now. “We can’t keep doing this. If you don’t take the gown off, we can’t proceed.”

Her chest tightened as she hesitated. She wanted to scream, to refuse, but she knew she didn’t have a choice. She had to do this. She had no choice.

Morgan's hands trembled as she slowly untied the paper gown, the cool air of the room seeming to crawl over her skin like a living thing. She felt like she was being flayed alive, her vulnerability sinking in with every passing second. The gown slid off her shoulders, pooling on the floor around her feet, and Morgan's face burned with shame.

The doctor's gaze was detached, clinical, as he scanned her body for any signs of abnormalities. Morgan's small frame, her pale skin, and her thinness were all on display, and she felt like she was being judged, found wanting. Her breasts were small, barely a handful, and her nipples were tight with embarrassment. Her hips were narrow, her thighs skinny, and her pubic hair was a sparse, awkward triangle.

The doctor's eyes lingered on her breasts, and Morgan felt a surge of humiliation. "You know, Morgan, you look like you should be playing with dolls, not getting a medical exam," he said, his voice dripping with condescension. "I'm surprised you're not still in elementary school."

Morgan's face burned, her eyes stinging with tears. She wanted to sink into the floor, to disappear, but she forced herself to hold still, not wanting to give him any reason to think she was weak.

The doctor's gaze moved down her body, his eyes scanning her hips, her thighs, her pubic hair. "I mean, seriously, you're so flat-chested, I'm surprised you don't still have a training bra," he said, his voice full of mocking amusement. "And that little strip of fur down there? It looks like you just started puberty last week."

Morgan's arms instinctively wrapped around herself, but it did nothing to hide her body. She felt like she was being torn apart, her dignity shredded by the doctor's cruel words. She wanted to scream, to refuse to continue with the exam, but she knew she didn't have a choice. She had to do this, no matter how much it hurt.

The doctor's eyes lingered on her pubic hair, and Morgan felt a surge of shame. "You know, Morgan, I've seen more developed bodies on 12-year-olds," he said, his voice full of disdain. "You really should consider hitting the gym, or maybe just eating a few more sandwiches. You're so skinny, it's like you're trying to be a little girl forever."

Morgan's face burned, her eyes stinging with tears. She felt like she was being humiliated, degraded, and she didn't know how much more she could take. But she forced herself to hold still, to endure the exam, no matter how much it hurt.

Morgan’s fingers were about to grab the paper grown when the doctor suddenly paused, his eyes flicking down to the clipboard again. His face twisted with mild irritation, like something had just dawned on him like there was something he’d forgotten.

“You didn’t get your vitals,” he said, his tone clipped and businesslike, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Without waiting for a response, he moved toward her, taking hold of her shoulder with force, guiding her toward paper partition that marked the rooms exit,

“As the doctor pushed her toward the gymnasium doors, Morgan's eyes widened in horror. She was completely naked, with no clothes or gown to cover her. Her skin was pale and smooth, with a smattering of light freckles across her cheeks and nose. Her hair was a messy tangle of brown locks, and her eyes were wide with fear and embarrassment.

"Wait!? what!?" Morgan gasped, her voice trembling with panic. She tried to reach for the paper gown that lay on the floor, but it was too late. The doctor had already dragged her past the partition, and she was now being pulled through the gymnasium's makeshift clinic area.

The room was a large, open space with rows of partitioned areas where gym mats formed tiny exam rooms. The entire place was too public, too exposed. Morgan could already hear the sounds of other students' voices, the shuffling of feet, and the buzz of nervous conversation. She felt like she was on display, like a specimen in a lab, with everyone's eyes on her naked body.

As the doctor dragged her through the room, Morgan's eyes scanned the area in desperation. She saw other students, some of whom she recognized from her classes, all of them staring at her with a mixture of shock and curiosity. She saw the gym teacher, Mrs. Johnson, standing by the water cooler, her eyes wide with surprise. She even saw the school principal, Mr. Smith, standing by the door, his face stern and disapproving.

Morgan's face burned with embarrassment as she realized that everyone was staring at her. She felt like she was going to die from shame, like she was going to melt into the floor and disappear. She tried to pull away from the doctor, but he just kept moving, his grip on her arm tightening.

"I..I'm naked!" Morgan screamed, her voice cracking with panic. "I can't! people are gonna see me! I'm not dressed!" She tried to cover herself with her hands, but it was no use. She was completely exposed, with nothing to hide behind.

The doctor didn't stop. He just kept moving, his eyes fixed on some point ahead, his expression completely detached. "Keep moving," he said, his voice cold and unfazed. "We need to get your vitals."
Morgan's eyes welled up with tears as she felt herself being dragged through the room, her naked body on display for everyone to see.

“Mister, please!” Morgan cried, trying to pull away, but he just kept moving, his grip on her arm tightening. Her small breasts jiggled with each step, and her pale skin felt like it was glowing in the fluorescent lighting. Her nipples were erect, and she could feel them puckering in embarrassment as she tried to cover herself with her hands.

“Move it,” he snapped, completely unaffected by her pleas. As they approached the nearest partition, Morgan’s stomach sank. A few of her classmates were lined up on either side of the open gym space, some sitting in folding chairs, others standing by the examination tables. As they turned to look at her, their faces froze in shock. The sound of their surprised gasps made her heart skip a beat. Her eyes locked onto theirs in panic, and she felt a wave of heat wash over her face, making her cheeks burn with humiliation.
Her long, slender legs trembled beneath her, and her thighs felt like they were on display, exposed to the entire room. She tried to squeeze them together, but it was no use. Her pubic hair was visible, and she could feel the eyes of her classmates drifting down to that area, making her feel like she was going to die from embarrassment. Her hands instinctively tried to shield herself, but it was no use. She was fully exposed, all that she tried to hide was on display. The worst part was that they were already staring, eyes wide, mouths agape. Some of them were giggling, whispering to each other as if they couldn’t believe what they were seeing.
Morgan’s stomach twisted, her face flushed with humiliation. She could already picture the conversations that would follow, the cruel laughter that would spread through the school. Her mind was racing with the thought of how she would never be able to show her face in school again. She felt like she was going to throw up, and her body was trembling with fear and embarrassment.

“Stop!” Morgan screamed, her voice breaking. “I’m naked! You can’t do this to me!” But the doctor didn’t even flinch. He was already pushing her forward, practically shoving her toward the center of the room. She caught glimpses of other students being checked by the nurse, their eyes drifting toward her, some of them giving sympathetic glances while others were clearly amused. She saw one of her classmates, a boy she had a crush on, staring at her with a mixture of shock and fascination, his eyes fixed on her breasts.

“I’m not dressed!” she cried again, her voice wild. “They can see everything!” Her heart pounded as they passed by more students, some looking up in confusion, others clearly stunned by the sight of her naked, pale body. Morgan’s face burned with shame, the blood rushing to her cheeks as she felt her body trembling. Her breasts were bouncing with each step, and she could feel her nipples rubbing against her arms as she tried to cover herself.

The doctor barely slowed down. He didn’t look at her once, didn’t acknowledge her panic, her pleas, her desperation. She was just another patient, just another task to get through. He was focused on his clipboard, checking boxes and flipping pages, completely indifferent to her situation.

“Please!” Morgan cried one last time, her voice strained with frustration and fear. “Please, let me put my gown on! I didn’t want anyone to see me like this!” But the doctor only glanced back at her once, a blank expression on his face.

“Get your vitals. Hurry up,” he muttered, pushing her into a small space next to a row of students, some of them seated and staring at her, a few trying not to smile, but failing. The nurse standing at the other end of the partition blinked at her, clearly surprised by the state of things. But said nothing. Morgan stood there, still shaking, her arms wrapped tightly around her body in a futile attempt to cover herself. Her skin felt like it was on fire, and she could feel the weight of every pair of eyes that had seen her exposed, as if they were all etched into her memory.

She wanted to disappear. She wanted to crawl up into a ball and vanish into nothingness. But instead, she stood there, vulnerable and humiliated, waiting for her to get blood drawn and her height and weight, all while her heart raced, her mind reeling with the realization that this moment would haunt her forever.

As Morgan sat down on the cold, metal chair, she felt like she was on display, a specimen for her classmates to gawk at. The nurse's mechanical voice and detached demeanor only added to her mortification. "Don't move," the nurse said, her eyes fixed on the needle she was preparing.

Morgan's heart racing, she tried to avoid eye contact with the other students, but she could feel their gazes on her, like a weight pressing down on her skin. Some of them were trying to stifle their giggles, while others were openly staring, their faces a mixture of shock, fascination, and amusement. She saw one of her classmates, a girl she had considered a friend, looking away, her face reddening with embarrassment. But others were not so kind, their eyes roving over her body, taking in every detail of her exposed skin.

The nurse's voice was a distant hum as Morgan's mind reeled with the humiliation of it all. She felt like she was going to throw up, her stomach churning with anxiety. The cold swab on her skin made her jump, and she couldn't help but let out a small gasp as the needle went in. The pain was a sharp sting, but it was nothing compared to the agony of being exposed in front of her classmates.

As the nurse worked, Morgan's eyes flicked around the room, taking in the reactions of the other students. Some of them were looking away, trying to pretend they weren't seeing what was happening. Others were watching with a mixture of horror and fascination, their faces pale and drawn. But there were a few who were clearly enjoying the spectacle, their eyes gleaming with a cruel light.

One of them, a boy who had always been a bit of a bully, was grinning openly, his eyes fixed on Morgan's breasts. She felt a surge of shame and humiliation, her face burning with embarrassment. She wanted to cover herself, to hide from the world, but she was trapped, unable to move or escape.

The nurse finally finished, pulling the needle out and bandaging Morgan's arm with a swift, efficient motion. But Morgan didn't feel any sense of relief. She was still exposed, still on display, and she knew that this moment would haunt her for a long time to come. As she sat there, frozen in humiliation, she could feel the weight of her classmates' gazes on her.

As the nurse instructed her to stand against the height and weight chart, Morgan's stomach plummeted. She felt a wave of dread wash over her as she realized she would have to expose herself even further. Her naked body seemed to glow with vulnerability as she hesitated, her eyes darting around the room in a desperate bid to escape the attention.

But there was no escape. With a sense of resignation, Morgan stood up, her bare skin prickling with goosebumps as she moved to the chart. The nurse's detached demeanor only added to her humiliation, making her feel like a specimen on display. As she stood against the chart, Morgan could feel the weight of eyes on her, the gaze of her classmates burning into her skin like a brand.
The nurse's disinterest as she took Morgan's height and weight only made things worse. Morgan felt like a piece of meat, a mere object to be measured and recorded without any regard for her feelings or dignity. Her heart racing, she climbed onto the scale, her bare feet cold and clammy against the metal surface. The nurse's expressionless face seemed to leer at her, making Morgan feel like she was trapped in some kind of twisted nightmare.

As she walked back to the exam room, Morgan's legs felt like jelly, her body trembling with shame and vulnerability. She couldn't believe this was happening to her, that she was being forced to endure such humiliation in front of her classmates. The sterile environment of the gym seemed to closing in around her, making her feel like she was suffocating under the weight of her own embarrassment.

When they reached the partitioned area again, the nurse ushered Morgan back into the exam room, pulling the curtain closed behind her. Morgan barely had time to breathe before her eyes locked onto the empty chair where her clothes had been. The clothes she’d arrived in. Her hoodie, her jeans, her bra and underwear, were gone. She didn’t even see a gown for her to wear.

“Where are they?” Morgan’s voice came out in a whisper, her pulse quickening as she looked around, hoping it was some kind of mistake. But the room was bare. The corner where her things had been was completely empty, like they had never been there at all.

“Excuse me,” she called out, trying to keep her voice steady, but panic was rising in her chest. “My clothes…they were just here. Where did they go?”

The nurse appeared a moment later, still holding her clipboard and looking completely unperturbed by Morgan’s distress. “Don’t worry about it,” she said flatly, brushing off Morgan’s concern with an almost practiced indifference. “Just take a seat. The doctor will be in shortly.”

Morgan’s hands trembled as she stood there, rooted to the spot. Her clothes—the only thing that had made her feel even remotely covered—were gone, as if they had been taken from her. She felt a wave of nausea hit her, her thoughts racing. Someone had to have taken them, but who? And why?

“Please,” she said, voice shaking. Tears rolled down her freckled face. “I need my clothes back. You can’t just..”

But the nurse was already turning away, her back to Morgan as she walked toward the door. “Just wait,” she called over her shoulder. “The doctor will take care of you.”

Morgan was left standing there, her body still completely exposed, the cold air of the room chilling her skin. She looked around, desperate for some explanation, but all she saw were the sterile white walls and the shadows of the partitioned rooms. Her clothes were gone, and there was nothing she could do but wait in this humiliating, suffocating silence.

Morgan sat in the silence, her eyes fixed on the floor as she tried to make herself as small as possible. Every creak of the floor outside, every distant voice in the gym, made her jump, her heart racing with anticipation. She had no idea how long she'd been sitting there, but the air in the room seemed to grow heavier with every passing minute, weighing her down with its oppressive silence. Her arms remained wrapped tightly around herself, trying to shield her exposed body from the cold, from the vulnerability, from the prying eyes she was sure were watching her.

Her skin still burned with the humiliation of being left in such an awkward, compromised position. She felt like a specimen on display, a naked and helpless creature exposed to the mercy of the world. The sound of bustling from the gym continued in the background - muffled laughter, the scrape of chairs, the rattle of equipment being moved - but it only served to remind her of her own isolation, her own powerlessness. No one had come to check on her. No one had even acknowledged she was still waiting. Was the doctor even coming back? Had he forgotten about her completely?

The uncertainty was suffocating, making her feel like she was drowning in a sea of embarrassment. Morgan's eyes began to prick with tears as she thought about her situation, her mind racing with worst-case scenarios. What if someone saw her like this? What if they took pictures or videos? What if...

Without warning, the partition jerked sharply, tearing away from the edge with a loud, almost violent noise. Morgan gasped, her eyes wide with shock, as the thin, flimsy curtain was pulled away. Her heart stopped, her arms shooting instinctively around herself, but there was no escaping it now. The partition had been ripped away completely, leaving her fully visible to the open gym.
Morgan's face burned with shame as she took in the scene before her. She could see everything - the workers milling about, the gymnasium stretching out beyond them, filled with students and staff. The noise of the gym swelled around her, and in that moment, it felt as if the entire world was watching her, seeing her exposed body for the first time. Her breath caught in her throat, and panic surged through her, sharp and overwhelming.

She stared at the workers standing there, wide-eyed in disbelief. One of them had a mop in his hand, frozen in place, while the others seemed just as startled as she was. But Morgan didn't care about their reactions. All she cared about was covering herself, hiding her naked body from the prying eyes that seemed to be everywhere. She tried to speak, but her voice caught in her throat, coming out in a strangled gasp.

Morgan's face was a deep, burning red, her skin prickling with the weight of every eye she imagined on her. The cold air hit her exposed skin like a slap, making her feel even more vulnerable and helpless. She was barely covered by her arms, the rest of her body exposed in the most humiliating way. The workers were just as shocked as she was, their gasps and whispers filling the air as they took in the sight of her.

The man who had pulled the curtain back muttered an apology under his breath, but Morgan didn't hear him. She was too busy trying to process the horror of her situation. Her mind was a jumbled mess of thoughts, her breath coming in fast, panicked gasps. She couldn't just stand there like this, exposed and helpless. She had to get out of there—now.

The bathroom. There had to be a bathroom down the hall. If she could just get to a stall, lock the door, and hide, maybe—maybe she could get some control over the situation. She didn't care who was watching; she didn't care about the workers or the students anymore. She just had to get away from the open gym, from the humiliation that was crawling over her skin like a thousand ants.

Her feet stumbled as she darted toward the door, her hands still desperately trying to shield herself from the cold air and the world that seemed to be closing in on her. But she barely got a step before another worker noticed her movement. "Hey, wait—where are you going?" one of the women called, her voice shaky.
Morgan's eyes darted to the hall, the light from the gym pouring through the door like a beacon of escape. She pushed herself harder, her feet pounding the floor as she ran. The hallway was just a few feet away. She could make it. But before she could even reach the door, she heard someone shout, "Stop!" The voice echoed behind her, making her heart skip a beat. She couldn't stop. She couldn't let them see her like this. With a burst of adrenaline, she shoved the door open, the sound of her feet slapping against the gym floor still ringing in her ears.

She sprinted down the hallway, her breath coming in ragged gasps, but the sounds of pursuit were already too close behind her. She didn’t dare look back.

The bathroom had to be close. She could get there, lock herself in.
“Girl! stop!”

The shout cut through her panic, but she didn’t care. She was nearly there—nearly at the bathroom. The only thing that mattered was getting the hell away from the gym, away from the eyes, away from the feeling that she was a joke to them all.

But just as she reached the bathroom door, she skidded to a halt, the blood rushing to her ears. The door wouldn’t open.

Someone had locked it.

Her stomach dropped, and for a moment, she felt like the world was closing in on her. She whipped around, but she was met with the sound of footsteps approaching too quickly. The workers were coming for her.

Tears burned at her eyes as she pressed her palm against the cold door, her whole body shaking with embarrassment. She could feel her face burning, her pulse pounding in her throat.

“Please…” she whispered, not even sure who she was begging anymore. She just wanted to disappear.
Morgan’s chest heaved as she crouched by the bathroom door, her back pressed against the cold, sterile wall. Her hands gripped her knees, arms hugging herself tighter as though it could make her disappear, as if it could shield her from the reality of the situation. Her heart was racing so loudly it drowned out everything else—the rush of her breath, the tremble in her limbs, the hum of the gymnasium behind her.

She could still hear the workers’ footsteps echoing down the hallway, growing quieter now, but she didn’t dare look up. She couldn’t face them. She couldn’t face anyone.

And then, a sharp sound sliced through the air: the bell.
It rang loudly, sharply, signaling the end of the class. The flood of students surged through the hall, the rhythmic thudding of their footsteps growing louder, closer.

Morgan’s heart leapt into her throat.

No. No, no, no—

The hallway, which had been eerily quiet for a moment, was suddenly filled with the sounds of chattering voices and laughter, students pouring out of classrooms in droves, unaware of what awaited them.

And then they saw her.

The first student, a girl in a cheerleading uniform, stopped short when she spotted Morgan hunched by the bathroom door, her slender body completely exposed. Her small breasts, barely developed, were visible to everyone, and her pale skin seemed to glow in the harsh fluorescent lighting. Her arms were clutched around herself in an effort to protect her dignity, but it was a futile attempt. Her small legs were curled up, trying to make herself as small as possible, but her nudity was on full display.

Morgan’s skin crawled as the first wave of shock washed over the students who had gathered in the hallway. Whispers started—snickers, gasps, and the unmistakable sound of phones clicking, cameras flicking on.

“Is that—?” one of the boys murmured, his voice trailing off. He couldn’t finish the sentence, because there was no need. The students had already recognized her, and in that moment, it felt like the entire world was staring at her—like she was no longer just Morgan, but a spectacle for everyone to gawk at.

She pressed her head against the door, as if the coldness could freeze her into the wall, into invisibility. The stares were like burning holes into her skin, and the snickers and cruel remarks began to fill her ears.

“Oh my god, she looks like a little girl! Has to be a freshman!”

“She’s naked…”

“What the hell happened to her?!”

A voice from the back of the crowd laughed. “She’s a freak, man…”

Morgan squeezed her eyes shut, a hot wave of humiliation crashing over her. Her face was burning, her throat tight with the sting of unshed tears. She wanted to curl up and die. She wanted to run, to find some dark corner of the world and disappear, but all she could do was shrink further into herself, as small as she could possibly get.

More students flooded the hallway, and the crowd grew, some stopping to gawk, others pulling out their phones. She could feel the weight of their judgment, could almost taste their laughter, and it tasted bitter, sour, cruel. They didn’t care that she was a person. They didn’t care about the pain or the humiliation that was consuming her from the inside out. She was just the joke of the day, a naked girl in the hallway, and they were ready to make it their story to tell.

She turned her face to the side, her cheek pressed against the door as she squeezed her eyes shut, but it didn’t help. The voices got louder, the eyes felt more intense, and she couldn’t hide from them.

A voice from the back of the crowd yelled out, “Eww you can see her pussy! She's probably enjoying it!”

This caused more laughter from the growing crowd. Morgan’s stomach churned, and she felt like she might actually be sick. Her thoughts were a blur, swirling in a storm of confusion and horror. She couldn’t think. She couldn’t process. She just wanted to be anywhere but here.

Her hand trembled as she reached for the door handle, her fingers slick with sweat. But before she could even make a move, someone from the crowd shouted, “She’s gotta be faking it! There’s no way she doesn’t know what she’s doing!”

She tried to get up and run, but her path was blocked by a sea of faces, all of them twisted in cruel amusement. A boy, his eyes gleaming with a mix of excitement and malice, reached out to grab her, his hands closing around her breasts like vice grips. He squeezed them hard, making Morgan cry out in pain. Another student, a girl with a cruel smile, joined in, her hands roaming over Morgan's body, fondling her breasts and pinching her nipples.

As Morgan struggled, she lost her balance and fell backwards into the crowd behind her. Hands closed around her arms, her waist, her legs, pulling her in different directions. She felt fingers tracing the curves of her body, probing and poking at her skin. Someone's hand slipped between her legs, touching her pussy, making Morgan feel a wave of shame and disgust. She tried to kick out, but her legs were pinned down by the weight of the crowd.

A finger slipped inside her, making Morgan cry out in agony. She felt like she was being torn apart, her body exposed and vulnerable to the crowd's cruel whims. She never wanted this. This wasn't how she thought her day would go. She had woken up that morning feeling normal, feeling like herself. And now, she was trapped in this nightmare, surrounded by people who seemed to take pleasure in her suffering

But just as suddenly as it had begun, everything stopped. The principal stormed through the crowd, his face thunderous with anger, and began to pull students away from Morgan. "That's enough!" he bellowed, his voice echoing off the lockers. "Get back, all of you! Now!"

The crowd slowly began to disperse, the students backing away with a mixture of guilt and shame on their faces. Morgan was left standing alone, her body still exposed, her face streaked with tears. The principal quickly grabbed a blanket from a nearby locker room and wrapped it around her, trying to restore some semblance of dignity to the shattered girl. But the damage was already done, and Morgan knew that she would never be able to erase the memories of this horrific ordeal.

Nicely written, thank you!