Greta’s Story: The Naked Candystriper
A Naked In School Tale
Any one who has read the exploits of Karen, Carl, Beth and Keiko understands the concept of the Program. Naked in School had spread school district by school district from the time the Virginia laws concerning observed nudity had been challenged in court to the time the US Supreme Court made its final ruling that anyone, anywhere could be naked in public and not be considered to be obscene, prurient or offensive.
Granted, some people went nude who simply should not have been allowed to do that. Mrs. Wilcox, who lived across the street from me, had to be seventy years old when the court ruling came down. The first warm day she was out on her front lawn, stark naked, weeding her flowerbeds. But I digress, something I am wont to do on occasion.
My name is Greta, my last name does not matter for, as you will see as the story unfolds, I no longer have the right to the one given to me at birth. Greta is not my name on my birth certificate either. The Naked in School program put an end to my old life and created this new identity for me.
I was a junior in high school when the Program came to our town. My father was a Pentecostal pastor in a large church in town and my mother was the daughter of missionaries and a seminary educated Master of Christian Education director of the church-run day school I had attended from pre-kindergarten through ninth grade.
The church’s school did not continue through high school, therefore the choice for me was either home schooling or attendance at the large public high school that was within walking distance of the home the church provided for my parents and me.
As most of the children in the church attended the high school, my parents decided I should also attend there to show equality as only the elitist few chose home schooling and private tutors when their children reached the grade at which the church school ended.
Again, my parents decided that I should fully participate in all the programs the high school offered. I was to try out for sports, I was to do all the clubs that interested me, and in many ways try to be a normal teen-age girl. My mother, with my father’s approval, dressed me in calf length skirts, long sleeved white blouses and either a sweater or a blazer. My feet were shod with saddle shoes and I always wore knee socks. My hair, sort of a light brown, was always severely pulled back in a ponytail or parted in the middle and braided to the sides. I either looked like a refugee from the 1950’s or the dorky princess from those science fiction movies.
I survived sophomore year, grade ten, only because of a medical problem that prevented me from taking gym and thus having to shower with the girls following gym class. When my father learned I would have to be nude with the other girls in a group shower and also dress and undress in a locker room with members of my gym class he almost pulled me out of school. During my pre-school physical our doctor discovered several growths on my skin. She excised one of them and had it biopsied. It turned out to be a benign but rapidly growing subcutaneous virus similar to shingles or warts that required cauterization. As I was undergoing weekly treatments I was always raw, scabbed, blistered or bandaged so I was given a full years medical excuse from participation in gym.
I did not get away scot-free though, as every week I had to report to Nurse Kramer, the school nurse, during what would have been my gym period, strip naked and let her examine me to verify the condition was persistent and ongoing. I was finally clear of lesions three weeks before the end of the school year, Nurse Kramer winked and signed me out of gym for those three weeks, saying if I’d missed that much time I would probably hurt myself trying to keep up with the girls who had been participating five days a week for the entire school year. She still required me to show up in her office and strip naked during gym class. She said it was to preserve our cover story, but looking back I think she just enjoyed seeing me nude, and truth be told I enjoyed the hour in her office being naked.
May twenty-sixth, the last day of school, came and there was an assembly. The Principal and Nurse Kramer spoke about some changes that would be coming in the new school year in September. They spoke of something called the Program, and that our parents would be getting information packets concerning the Program in the early portion of July. They were to read the literature and only if they had objections were they to return the forms enclosed in the package by July fifteenth.
My father had been called as a summer evangelist at a resort town along the Maryland coast for the entire summer. We packed up and moved our summer clothes, the dog, and ourselves to a small cottage a block from the ocean beaches. We would walk along the boardwalk and my parents would seethe over the bathing costumes of the men and women basking on the beaches. This girl in a thong bikini, that girl topless, that mother with her pregnancy obvious to everyone in the two-piece suit. I wore sundresses that were calf length and a large sunhat. I was never allowed on the beach to bathe in the ocean or tan in the sun. It was immoral. My father would rant and rail against that behavior in the pulpit every Sunday and at the mid-week prayer and hymn sing every Wednesday. He did this for the entire summer.
When we packed to come home on the last day of August, my father told the church committee that he was glad to be leaving this cesspool of sin, iniquity and temptation with its exposed flesh and lewd behavior.
I look back at it now and I laugh. My parents had their mail held while we were away. We arrived home late on a Saturday and went to church where my father preached his homecoming sermon Sunday morning. As we greeted the people leaving the service many asked my father if I was going to get with the program. My father, having no idea what was being discussed, assured the member who asked that this year I would be able to do gym class and participate in everything else a good girl should at school. Those folks shook their heads and left as though the question they had asked had remained unanswered.
Monday came and off I went to another school year. Surprisingly, very few of my church friends were walking with me to the high school and one, Brenda Adams, who was, stopped me and asked, “Your folks, they didn’t object to the Program and your participating in it?”
“What Program,” I asked her, not remembering the principal's and Nurse Kramer’s little speech during the end of school assembly.
“Well, it was mentioned before school let out, remember,” Brenda told me. I nodded and I vaguely did remember. Brenda filled me in with, “The information packets came out in early July. It was a pile of non-consent forms and a brochure that was thirty pages of detailed information about the Naked In School Program.”
“THE WHAT?” I must have yelled loud enough to be heard two blocks away.
“You really don’t know, do you,” Brenda giggled. “We are required to participate in all non-contact sports in gym class nude; cheer leaders, marching band and color guard will performs nude at all events and at least one week a month every student must remain nude for all regular scheduled classes and events. This includes your mandatory community service time. If you choose to remain naked all the time, your grade point average is given an automatic one-point boost on a four-point scale. I’m going to do the all nude all the time, myself, as I’m a solid C student and the extra point will make me a full B and maybe then a college will look at me for admission.”
“Brenda, we’ve been away all summer at that evangelist conference. My folks had all their mail held until we got back. I don’t think my father was even picking the mail up until tomorrow morning. What do you think I should do?” My poor brain was working overtime.
“Well, the brochure spelled out that on the first day of school everyone would be nude for the entire day. Teachers, janitors, staff and students will all be naked for Program orientation. Your parents would have had to sign the non-consent waiver opt-out forms by July fifteenth and then found a school nearby that would take you as a student. My guess is you are stuck with attending here and following the rules.”
I thought back to the summer and the people I saw having fun on the beach in their tiny swim suits. I admit I had looked at them and had disagreed with my parents about the ‘sinfulness’ of their flesh. God made flesh before he made clothes, and Adam and Eve were content to be naked until the whole apple incident. My father reacted angrily when I tried that on him. He kept slamming his Bible on the kitchen table and yelling, “Modesty, modesty, modesty…that is the virtue and you shall be a virtuous girl.”
I also remembered all last year the time I spent in Nurse Kramer’s office naked while she examined my healing wounds. She had remarked several times how lovely I was and what a sin it was for my parents to insist I keep my body imprisoned under the layers of clothing I was forced to wear. I had silently agreed with her. I enjoyed the freedom of being in a natural state.
“So, basically, we get to school, remove our clothes and go to class?” I asked for clarification.
Brenda responded, “Yes, if all you do is go to school. I’m on the color guard. So all my practices and my performances at games will be done nude, both home games and away games. If it is a school-sanctioned activity it is to be done naked. I’m not sure, but I think it even spills over to school dances.”
“Oh, school-sanctioned activities include work-study and community service, don’t they?” The question was rhetorical, as I knew those were included. I also knew that my community service was a candy-striper position at the local church home for the aged and infirm.
“Yes, of course,” Brenda said and added, “On the days you do your community service, your clothes stay locked up in the school locker and you travel back and forth to your community service nude. It is all in the Program brochure. Which, you haven’t read, have you?” Brenda giggled, and then she said, ”My community service is playground pick up at Rockland Avenue Park. Now that is going to be interesting.”
My first inkling that this really did affect everyone in the school was seeing the traffic guards, one male and one female, crossing kids to the school wearing their safety vests, hats and shoes and not one other thing.
The teachers manning the doors, greeting the students as they arrived and giving them directions, were similarly unattired. No, they were all stark naked. Brenda and I were directed by a stunning nude Nurse Kramer to report to the locker banks in the girl’s locker room of the gym, remove our clothing and then report to the auditorium for the School Year Opening Assembly. Nurse Kramer caught my arm and asked me, “Do you remember the poses I taught you during the days you spent in my office last year?”
I did and told her so although I always thought she positioned me those ways to better examine the scars and blistering left behind by my treatments. “Would you be willing to demonstrate those positions during assembly?” The touch of her hand on my arm felt reassuring. I said of course I would, what the heck, four hundred of my closest friends and a few of my enemies were going to see me as I would see them, naked, so being a bit more on display to help Nurse Kramer didn’t make a big difference to me.
It was funny, Brenda had so few garments to remove, a t-shirt, a bra, Bermuda shorts and bikini underpants; while I had a cotton summer sweater, starched white oxford blouse, camisole, bra, long skirt, half slip, granny panties because my father believed that modesty extended to a woman’s undergarments as well, knee socks and saddle shoes, yet I was out of my clothes before she had skinned her panties off and into the locker. I guess my inner freedom fighter was finally rebelling against the restrictive life I had been forced to live up to this very moment. So restrictive that I was not allowed to put a razor to skin. I had hair on my legs and under my arms that had wispy ash blond coloration, and the patch over my pussy was just a half shade darker and not very full.
I scampered out of the locker room and met Nurse Kramer at the auditorium door and she asked me to please join her and the principal up on the stage. She again told me how lovely I looked and assured me I would only be on display for a few moments while she taught the positioning poses to the rest of the school.
The principal in his full nude glory gave the 'welcome back from your summer' speech that rarely varies from school year to school year, he then turned the assembly over to Nurse Kramer.
“Young ladies and young gentlemen,” a huge swell of giggling went up in the student seats, “you have all read the Program brochure and none of your parents have filed a non-consent form; this means you shall all be fully participating in the Program. Full participation includes posing in display positions for those who may wish to examine you. If the request is reasonable and you will not be made late to a class, you will be expected to stop in the hallway or in any other public place and display. These are the proper display poses.” Nurse Kramer motioned me forward and whispered, “On my command.” I nodded I understood.
“Position one.” Nurse Kramer called. I immediately spread my legs forty-five degrees, clasped my hands behind my head and pulled myself up straight. “As you can see, position one allows the observer to see every fold and every nuance of the subject’s body. One can touch anywhere on the body,” as she said the words she was running hands up and down my legs then up my buttocks and back to my neck and around to the front where she caressed my breasts and finally moved down past my navel to wind up with a finger in my vagina and a thumb massaging my clitoris.
She stopped just short of my fulfillment and ordered Position Two. This was basically the same as position one except I was on my knees with my ass resting back on my heels rather than standing up. She described to the assembly how this pose was easier to hold over the long term and then called position three which was me still on my knees back straight but now with the palms of my hands resting upon my knees.
Position Four was position three standing up. Feet forty-five degrees spread, hands on knees, head down and back straight. This time when Nurse Kramer demonstrated how easily every area could be touched, she rolled my nipples between her fingers and did not stop playing with my vagina and clit until I visibly shuddered in orgasm on stage. She thanked me for my participation in the assembly. I got a round of applause from the audience and I was allowed to return to my seat.
“Wow,” Brenda reacted as I sat beside her now off stage but in the very front row of seats. “Did I just see the Ice Princess get off on stage?” She stifled a giggle unsuccessfully then twitched her nose a little, “Wow again, if I couldn’t believe my eyes, I sure can trust my nose, that smells like girl juice.”
“I did and it is,” I replied, and then I added, “Just because I’m still a virgin doesn’t mean my body doesn’t react to stimulus.”
The rest of the day went much as assembly had. This year I had US history, geology/earth science, calculus, lunch, gym, English, and German, in that order. I walked into my US history class and Mr. Potts stopped me from finding a seat. “As you were the official demonstrator for the assembly today I would like you to repeat your demonstration of the four positions.” It was a reasonable request and I did not argue. I simply stood and waited for the rest of the class to find seats then as Mr. Potts requested them I went through each of the four poses again. Mr. Potts hands on my body felt a bit rougher and less lingering than had Nurse Kramer’s hands. Yet, by the time I was displayed in Position Four, he had me cumming against his thumb. He thanked me for the demonstration and I finally found a seat and waited for the baby buzz in my body to abate.
Class changed and two senior boys asked me to display as I walked between classes. The both wanted Position One and they felt every nook of my body, one working front and the other back and switching sides. I barely made it to geology before the late bell and Ms. Shea looked at me with really interested eyes. “Class, for the remainder of the school year, the last student into the class room shall be expected to spend the first five minutes of the class in front of the class demonstrating the four posing positions.” Ms. Shea pointed to me, I put my book bag down and she called out the positions she had me wanted to see. She had me hold Position Four a very long time and invited each of the class members to caress and fondle me while I was in it. Most took advantage of the playtime, and I certainly didn’t mind the simulation.
Somehow we returned to Devonian fossils and bedding planes after that and the class went quietly. Then the bell rang and two senior girls who demanded I pose for them trapped me in the hallway. Reasonable request and I did so, barely making it into the cafeteria lunch line before it was closed off.
I found Brenda and sat with her and two other girls. We ate and compared notes on the morning. I was the only one who had been posed in class; but as Brenda noted I was the assembly demonstrator so the teachers probably felt comfortable using me as a model. I nodded and told them I expected this for the rest of the day, by tomorrow everyone will know what is to be done when posing is requested, so I should be free of that burden, anyway.
Lunch over we headed to gym class. The partitions between the boys and girls locker rooms had been torn down over the summer and the two shower rooms made equally accessible to both boys and girls. Wow, if my father was upset with my showering nude with girls last year, he was going to be livid when he found out the boys shared all accommodations with us girls now. Even the toilets in the gym locker rooms had been made unisex. The girls loved the idea as boys usually only had to pee and the did that standing up, so we had our stalls (no doors, they had all been removed) in the former girls' room and the stalls in the boys' room for those days when we all had to pee at one time. As it turned out a lot of boys liked to watch girls pee. Most of them got excited while doing so. Which made their need to pee difficult to complete.
Since today none of us had anything to remove and place in our locker, we all peed before going to class. Several of the boys stood in the line up ‘happy to see us’. Thereafter, Coach Kersch and Ms. Cohen, the two gym teachers in the school who were both nude, reviewed the ‘release and relief’ policy of the Program. If any student or faculty member felt at any time at the start of class that he or she needed release, the code word for masturbation, or relief, the code word for sex with a partner, they could request it. Further, any male student or faculty member seen to be in a persistent state of arousal would be permitted release and any female student or faculty member needing release could satisfy themselves. This had to take place openly in the classroom or on school grounds. “For instance,” Ms. Cohen told us, “today we are going to play flag football on the outdoor practice field. If any of you need release or relief feel free to do so out on the field. Our supplies of towels to mop the gym floor haven’t arrived yet, so we ask you not to do it in here just yet.” The class broke nervous laughter until she blew her whistle and we quieted down, she continued, “The locker rooms and the rest rooms are OFF limits. The shower rooms are open for both relief and release activities.”
Another toot of the whistle and we were all outside choosing sides and starting our pick up football games. Running around naked outside of the school felt exciting and I was as happy as a girl could be with the freedom of spirit to match the freedom of nudity. Another set of whistles signaled shower time and two boys asked me for relief. I had no idea what to do for them. Brenda came to my rescue, embarrassing me in the process, “She’s a virgin guys, she has no ideas what you are asking for, mind if I demonstrate for her?” With that she was on her knees before one boy and, yuck, she stuck his thing in her mouth. The other boy had his thing wrapped up in her fist and she was moving rapidly up and down with her hand on it. She stopped rubbing the second boy; as the first seemed to fill her mouth with what, pee? Then she let her mouth off of the first boy and quickly gobbled up the second while now rubbing the first boy’s penis with her free hand. In minutes the second boy unloaded his stuff into Brenda’s mouth. She came over to me and kissed me on the lips giving me my very first taste of boy cum. “That, my darling, is giving relief.” She then went under the spray of the showerheads to finish her shower.
In English, Mr. Falcone asked for a two-paragraph report on the emotions we’d experienced thus far while being program participants. Tomorrow we would exchange papers and read them to the class, but Mr. Falcone warned that any attempts at humor or ridicule at another’s expense would be subject to punishment.
I finished my two paragraphs and handed them in, third to finish behind Brenda and a boy named Alan. Mr. Falcone was dismissing us as we finished, so I got a head start to my last period German class.
Ms. Schiller, and my heavens, who knew that behind that bun and stiff tweed teacher suit she used to wear to class in my sophomore year there lay such an exquisitely sculpted woman, had us recite the proper and slang German words for the various parts of the body. Oh, and who was the lucky display model, wow, you got it right the first time, ME.
The final bell rang for class that day. Brenda did not take German; her last class was music appreciation. I saw her head out to the practice field for her color guard practice and we smiled and waved at each other. I was waiting in the parking lot for the schools van which Ms. Cohen; the gym teacher would use to take the six of us assigned to the nursing home to our community service assignments.
Five days a week, for the last year and now this one, while school was in session, I wheeled a little cart from room to room at the home offering magazines, newspapers and books to the residents and stopping to chat with them. I have to admit I felt a little awkward doing this naked today. There were five others in the facility also as bare as I was so I wasn’t alone. I was separated from the group going through the resident’s rooms, though.
Some of the others were serving snacks or doing recreation activities with the more able residents. I had those who had been in the therapy pool or physical therapy earlier and were now resting in their room. I was awkward and nervous until I entered the first room where two women in their late seventies slept. “Gladys, wake up dear, it is that nice girl who brings us the papers and she’s naked.” Martha the woman who had the bed closest to the door called to her roommate.
“I wasn’t asleep,” Gladys, replied, “just resting my eyes and, GIRL, I am so glad I did!” She put her glasses back on and looked me up and down and asked that I turn around for them and come out from behind the cart. I did and they beamed. “We are so delighted to finally see you and not all those awful clothes your parents forced on you, dear. You are lovely.” This from Martha. Gladys echoed with, “Wait til the boys down the hall catch a glimpse of you, honey, those limp dishrags will be looking for a little action before you leave tonight I’m sure of it. Oh, don’t look so shocked. We may not get it often at our age, but that doesn’t mean we don’t still want some.” She grinned and added, “Go on, girl, get that cute behind down the hall and stir up some fire in those men, so Martha and I can haul some ashes later.”
Horny septuagenarians, who knew? I was laughing as I entered Steve and Bill’s room just across the hall. “Hi guys, anything I can get you this afternoon? Today’s papers, this months magazines and a couple of good mystery books on the cart today.”
Bill looked up and muttered, “I’ve died and this is heaven…no, wait…it is hell I’m still trapped in this old body and there is a naked girl in front of me offering me can I get you anything.” Steve laughed and had not yet looked up from the book he was reading, “Yeah, right, tell her to stand around until I finish this last chapter and maybe I’ll look at the books she has on her cart,” pause turn page, must have been the end, look up, “Oh my lord, Bill there’s a naked girl in our room.”
All three of us had a good laugh and I explained the Program to them and how any school related activity such as my community service project had to be done in the nude. They tried to hide it but from the stirrings under their sheets I could see that Martha and Gladys would be getting a little action later. Steve did pick out a new book and left the old one on the cart and I left Bill with the latest ‘who’s hot and who’s not in a bikini” edition of People magazine.
So it went down my corridor, alternating the female and male rooms with the reactions being positive down to Henrietta in the fifth and final female room. She took one look at me and yelped, “Young lady, does your father know you are prancing about in the all together?”
“He did not sign me out of the Program, ma’am.” I honestly replied, (omitting some key facts).
“Well, I cannot believe it of him or of you, now scat and don’t come back in here until you are decent.”
I didn’t know it then, but within the next two minutes my old life ended.
I finished my shift. The rest of my people were jovial and excited at the novelty of having a nude teen-ager catering to their needs, so I thought, 'Ten positive and one negative reaction; I guess this can be fun for everyone'.
Ms. Cohen was waiting for us with the school van when our hours were completed and she drove us back to the school parking lot. One of the boys on the van looked out and yelled back to me, “Hey, Pastor is out in the parking lot swinging a leather strap and he looks angry.”
Ms. Cohen, still as nude as any of us, told us all to wait in the van and she would speak to my father first. Through the closed doors of the van I heard my father shout, “Shameless hussy,” in Ms. Cohen’s face and he then proceeded to lay into her with the strap.
I jumped out of the van and yelled, “Daddy stop!”
He wheeled to face me and yelled in return, “Daddy? I’m not the Daddy to any slut who would exhibit herself so shamelessly, and in a nursing home of all places! Yes, Henrietta called me and asked me when I approved of the Program. I had no idea what she was talking about until your mother called saying she had picked up the mail and there was something in it I should see right away. I left the church office came home and read the filth material concerning this program and shot right over here to wait for you. Had you been clothed I would have forgiven you. As I found your clothing, the clothing I bought for you, in your locker, I have that in my car. You have never purchased anything of your own in your life. Every stitch you wear and I provided every other thing you needed. No more, what you have now is what you leave with, your life, your body and your shame; I have taken action to have your name stricken from the family records. I gave that to you and I now take it back. Good-bye little whore and don’t come crying to my wife. She is in perfect agreement with me on this matter.”
There I stood in nothing, with nothing, and with nowhere to go. Ms. Cohen was asking if there were any other adults she could contact who might put me up for a night or two until this blew over with my folks. Considering the fact she had huge welts on her body from the whipping she had received at the hand of the man who used to call himself my father she was optimistic to think the matter would blow over. It never did and I have not seen nor heard from my birth parents since that day.
Nurse Kramer save the day, or evening, when she came out of the school building and saw the disaster that had transpired. “She’ll feel better after a hot bath, a cup of tea and a good night’s sleep. Helen, she’ll come home with me tonight.”
Helen Cohen didn’t argue, although I learned she was seconds away from offering me a bed for the night herself. Mr. Cohen was the vice-principal at the town middle school, the one the kids not in the church’s school attended. They had two boys, seven and nine, and a Labrador retriever named Max. I didn’t know how well a nude eighteen-year-old girl would fit into the Cohen household.
Nurse Kramer, Samantha, (she asked me to call her Sam or Sammie), lived alone following a childless marriage to an abusive man and an acrimonious divorce. She had two bedrooms in her condo and could handle my presence less stressfully than Ms. Cohen.
She was right. I soaked in the condo association hot tub, took a nice bubble bath, wrapped up in one of Sam’s terry cloth robes and was sound asleep in her spare bedroom by nine o’clock that night. Sam offered me sweatpants and a t-shirt to wear to school the next morning and I declined. I officially entered myself in the raise-my-grade-point-average, I’ll-stay-naked-all-year part of the Program. Uy male parent and his spouse who stood behind him could go to wherever his soul could be damned.
The next day was a blur of social workers, counselors, and the principal and vice-principal sorting out what to do with me. I had no money, no job, no clothes and no family. I couldn't be put into the foster care system because foster kids had to be less than eighteen.
“Forget all that nonsense,” Nurse Kramer told the whole bunch of them, “She’ll come live with me. I need someone to make a hot meal, keep the place clean and keep me company, before I turn into a cat lady.” Everyone in the room laughed at that, for looking at Sam, even now in her white nurse uniform (the faculty was clothed again but had rolling teach in the nude days scheduled for the rest of the year) everyone knew she would never lack for companionship.
But, that was how it went for my junior and senior year of high school. I lived with Sam, went to school naked, and at every function and every dance and every sporting event, rain or shine, I was there in the buff. My skin bronzed to a rich dark luster as I spent a lot of the time naked and outdoors. Just as did old Mrs. Wilcox, I had discovered the joy of gardening nude. I earned pocket money, (wait, I didn’t have pockets), so I earned money doing part time landscaping first for the high school as a work-study project and then later the Board of education hired me to do landscape gardening at the two elementary and one middle school as well. Sam had me put every cent into the bank toward college and literally covered all of my expenses for school. She had become mother and best friend to me and we hung out together in our free time. I loved her but never made love to her and she felt the same about me. We did occasionally take the time for mutual release. She loved being watched when she masturbated and I loved watching her. It was she who renamed me Greta.
During the March of my senior year I was visited in school by the national vice-president of Sigma Kappa Gamma sorority, who interviewed me for a possible scholarship to a school called Philadelphia Fashion Institute of Technical Design (referred to as P-FIT by alumni and students). Sam Kramer was an SKG sister and had worked behind the scenes to arrange this opportunity. Sam also told me that she was my home, and any time I needed to come home to cry on a shoulder or just spend some time, her door opened with my key.
Oh, how I loved that woman.
Let me rest a while and perhaps, if you are really good, I’ll share my college years with you, later.