Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 ï>¿Becca Obeys by Ratios

   Part 2:

   Still scantily clad, now in public, Becca shows #schoolpride.

   The pale tan concrete of the city sidewalk still felt warm on my bare
feet thanks to it having sat absorbing the fall sun all day.  Even though
dusk was coming on quickly, it was still comfortable enough outside that I
wasn't cold yet, despite the fact that all I had on was a bra, a skirt that
had been over halved in length, and my unicorn undies.  Who knew what it
would be like in an hour or three when we were walking back in the dark.

   There was no time to worry about the future, however, as I had to spend
most of my time and attention focusing on where I was stepping.  Without
the luxury of shoes, I had to keep focus to make sure that my bare feet
didn't find any shards of broken glass, still burning cigarette butts, or
discarded HIV infected needles that my overactive imagination pictured were
lying just out of sight in all directions.  The sidewalks were clean so
far, however, and Nicky, walking ahead of me, had kindly given me advanced
warning of the single obstacle we had run across so far: a small fallen
branch sitting half on the path and half in the grass.

   We had been walking for several minutes now and the trip had been
comparatively uneventful thus far to what I had been envisioning in my mind
on the way out the door.  There were no unruly crowds of citizens ready to
burn me at the stake as a harlot, no tacking or tasering from police
officers in a hurry to put a stop to my indecent exposure, and no ground
opening to swallow me up whole.

   There were a lot of double takes from passers by, however, and my mind
burned with the knowledge that a growing number of people near campus now
had a firm mental image of what the swell of my breasts and the curve of my
thighs looked like.  I shivered at the thought.

   On the bright side, the walk meant that the ladies were giving me a bit
of a break from throwing any new embarrassing orders my way.  I was pretty
sure I had Nicky to thank for that.  After leaving the house, while I was
still trying to wrap my head around being half dressed in public, there was
some whispered conversation between the other women as I jogged to catch up
with them.  By the time I matched them, the group began to break up a bit
on the sidewalk.

   Nicky and Monique were now walking a little ahead, talking about whether
superhero movies were helping or hurting the movie industry.  Deeta was
bringing up the rear, face down on her phone, avoiding walking head first
into telephone poles or parking meters supposedly due to either luck or
some hidden sixth sense.  Sasha was a few steps in front of me, busy in her
own head doing Sasha things.  That left me in the middle, alone while
surrounded by friends, trying to think clothed thoughts, and watching for
sneaky rats that might try to nibble at my toes.

   It's possible that my less than fully clothed state might have been
making me paranoid.

   I didn't have a lot of time for rational thinking, however, when there
was another elephant in my brain's processing room that was causing me to
sweat in the cool evening air.  With this in mind, I caught up to the woman
in front of me to try to put my nerves at least a bit more to rest than
they had been.

   "Sasha?  Hey, I have a quick question...  That message board thing you
set up for, uh, pictures of me and stuff...  That's private, right?"

   "I believe so, yes.  This is the first such group I have created, but
there was an option to share when I built it and I declined to do so."

   Giving a nervous laugh at Sasha's not-quite-reassuring answer, I
responded, "Oh.  Good.  If any of the pictures or videos of me got out
there, that would be, like, really really embarrassing."

   Still walking, she gave me an appraising look followed by a small smile.
"Embarrassing...  Yes, I imagine it would be, and we both know your
complicated relationship with embarrassment."

   We walked in silence for a few seconds while her face scrunched up like
she was attempting to arrange her thoughts, then she looked at me
curiously. "Let's try another experiment.  Picture in your mind, for a
moment, a scenario.  Some image or video of you in some state of undress or
some compromising situation gets leaked.  Perhaps a photo that was already
taken today, perhaps something a bit more extreme; you with fewer clothes,
doing something you don't really want seen, begging on your knees or some
such.  What does that look like in your head?  Who sees it and what do they
say?  More importantly, how do you feel about it?"

   Like putting a struck match to tinder, my brain suddenly lit up with
scenarios I had never considered before.  Getting back from dinner and
finding out that Sasha had set up the board wrong and that the entire
university had had access to the message board full of half dressed
pictures of me for hours.  Hundreds of comments and notifications of
downloads.  My image on the front page of amateur softcore sites.  The
smirks and comments of my fellow students over the rest of my college
career.  People laughing at me and lusting after me constantly.  Getting
arrested for indecent exposure.  Being registered as a sex offender and
having to tell everyone I ever met again what a degenerate I am.  Waking up
every day feeling more exposed than I ever had before.  Everyone forever
thinking of me as a cheap slut.

   Slut.  That was the first time I ever even come close to considering
that word as applying to me, the nineteen year old virgin, never been
kissed.  My legs felt like they were going to give out but the scenes in my
brain just started flashing past faster and faster, each more frightening
than the last, each feeling like a worm tunneling deeper into my mind to
take up residence there.

   Being forced by peers to get naked in public places; "You have already
gone part of the way," they would say, "It's only fair that you should go
the rest." Fire sale for Rebecca, everything 100% off.  I could viscerally
feel the imagined loss of their static respect for me and the change in how
people would look at me.  Nudity was only the next step.  After that, I
would probably be told to streak on campus, make myself pretty for people
to look at and then bend to their will, both figuratively and literally. 
Long sessions of being made to do the most awful and humiliating tasks
before collapsing to the ground begging to touch myself after.  My mind
presented me with an out of body shot of me, naked on my knees, looking up
at a crowd of laughing people as they shout suggestions, telling me to
shake my chest and spread my-

   I didn't even realize that I had stopped walking until Deeta crashed
into my back, herself barely paying attention to anything other than phone.
I came out of my momentary trance almost hyperventilating, my whole body
feeling like I was a battery carrying an electric charge with the sure
knowledge that the right touch could have made me explode.  My first
instinct was to examine the ground around me for the burn marks left by the
lightning bolt that had obviously just hit me...  But there were no marks.
There was no lightning.  There was just my mind and my out of control
imagination.  A single drop of fluid was sliding down my left thigh,
pausing almost teasingly at the swell of my knee.  Was that...  my arousal
juice?!?!

   What the hell was wrong with me?

   I quickly pressed my legs together and did a quick shuffling motion in
an attempt to wipe the damning drop away, but all I succeeded in doing was
just causing a wet smear on the sides of both of my legs before my
attention was once again distracted when I noticed Sasha standing a few
paces forward regarding me with a coy smile on her lips.  I could almost
see her collecting and collating data in her mind about how I had reacted
to her triggering question.  She couldn't know the specifics of what had
gone on in my head but she had definitely seen me freeze up and almost fall
over, and she had definitely seen me deal with the incriminating drip.

   As the world around me slowly came back into focus, my attention was
once again torn away from Sasha when I realized that Deeta has been talking
to my back for an unknown amount of time.  I spun to face her and she was
giving me a bit of side-eye.

   "Finally!  I was wondering if there was anybody home in that head of
yours, Lady Godiva.," Deeta chided, reaching out to give my forehead a
gentle knock with her knuckles.

   With half my attention still struggling to process the mental whirlwind
that had just wreaked havoc on my brain, I stuttered out, "S-sorry...  I
got distracted for a sec."

   From behind me, Sasha pointed out, "FYI, Lady Godiva rode fully nude. 
Becca here hasn't gone that far, yet."

   Yet.  there was that word again.  The images in my mind began to spin
again and I shook my head in an attempt to clear them.

   Luckily, Deeta waved off the correction.  "Let's get to walking again.
I'm hungry!"

   She began to walk past me and I turned to follow along with her, but
then she glanced at my profile and I saw her do a double take that seemed
right out of a cartoon.

   "Whoa, Bex.  It's not that dark out; you don't need the high beams on,
lol!"

   The confused look I gave her must have correctly communicated my lack of
understanding, as she attempted to clarify.  "You got a bad case of the
pokies." I was still distracted enough not to get it.  "Visible peaks?" My
confusion was still visible so this time she cleared her throat and spoke
with comic slowness while pointing to my chest..  "Your hardened nipples
are sticking out through your thin little bra."

   Gasping, I looked down and saw that she was right.  I hastily threw my
arms up over my chest, looking cautiously up and down the street to ensure
that nobody else had seen.  When I returned my attention to Deeta and
Sasha, however, I found them both looking at me expectantly before Sasha
made an 'arms uncrossing' motion and I remembered our discussion from
before we left the house and the 'No Covering' rule.

   Steeling myself as best I could, I jerkily lowered my arms, my better
judgment fighting against my tendency towards obedience and losing
miserably.  Balled fists held stiffly at my sides, I ignored Deeta's
excited clap of approval or Sasha's thumbs up and turned to march stiffly
down the street, clamoring to clear my thoughts and find some modicum of
inner peace.  Despite my efforts, the feeling of the wind causing
goosebumps on my damp thighs and the feeling of my bra rubbing against my
stiff nipples in time to my gait kept one thought front and center of my
attention, no matter how hard I tried to push it down.

   I badly wanted to touch myself.

   The thought was so foreign, so unlike my normally conservative, reserved
self.  It wasn't that I had never masturbated before, but those urges had
always been something that I had only considered, much less acted upon, in
secret and in solitude.  To have such an urge dominating my attention as I
walked down the street, surrounded by friends and in full view of
strangers, felt...  Unnatural.  Inappropriate.

   ...

   Exciting?

   All I knew was that I was hornier than I had ever been before in my
life.

   Up the block, I was surprised to see Nicky and Monique heading back
towards us.  Had I slowed us down so much that they felt the need to come
back and check on us?  When we caught up to them, Monique, smiling ear to
ear, made an announcement.

   "Bex, we've decided on your next order!  Don't worry, it's definitely
something that will keep your face red and your peach juicy." This lewd
description alone started having the described effect.  "We're only a
couple of blocks from the front entrance of the uni and we thought this
would be a perfect time for you to show some hashtag 'school pride'.  And,
of course, pose for a few commemorative photos!"

   Quick to jump in and clarify her involvement in the decision, Nicky
added, "Yeah, a bit of fun for you that, importantly, doesn't require you
to take off any more clothes."

   "We'll see about that," Moniue teased, winking at me.

   Closely surrounded now by the group, walking in step around me in each
cardinal direction, I felt a bit like a criminal being marched by the city
guard towards the town square for punishment, and I could clearly hear my
heart beating in noisy syncopation with my footsteps.  A turn at the next
corner and another half a minute of walking in relative silence brought us
to the front driveway entrance for the university.  A circular area of
grass was inserted between the entry and exitways with the name of the
school, 'Mackinaw University', in large letters, each about four feet high.
Standing on the end was a statue of Big Mike, the school's
anthropomorphized tiger mascot, replete in his purple and gold jersey and
shorts.  The figure was posed standing straight with his arms wrapped
forward in a circle, as if giving everyone passing a virtual hug.

   Since it was early Saturday evening, there was almost no traffic into or
out of the uni at this time.  Monique walked ahead of us and did a quick
spin, arms out in the middle of the grassy area.

   "Isn't this a great spot for some photographs?  Wouldn't you just love
to roll around in this lush, green grass naked, Bex?"

   Shocked at the suggestion, I sputtered, "Uh, wha, huh?"

   Skipping over to me, she patted me on the head and cheerfully announced,
"Just kidding...  Though I bet we could get some super artsy nudes if you
really wanted to strip down, I guess..." Using her patting hand she brushed
down from the top of my head, down my nose and, flicking my lips.  In a
husky voice, she followed up, "So...  Do you really want to?"

   The sheer intensity of her gaze and the weight of expectation she
managed to put behind it and the seemingly voluntary choice she offered had
my heart pounding and my fingers fumbling with the clasp of my skirt of
their own accord when Nicky loudly announced, "You don't have to strip,
Becca.  I'm sure your three remaining pieces of clothing won't get in the
way of you having a good time as is."

   My moment of temptation passed, my hand left my skirt hem and I let out
a breath I had apparently been holding.  Some small part of me felt oddly
disappointed by being let off the hook, but I pushed past it quickly. 
Rolling her eyes, Monique changed tactics.

   "Fine, have it your way.  I have a great idea for some shots, anyway. 
Ladies, get your phones out.  Becca, come over here to the start of the
sign."

   The other girls seemed content to let Monique lead for now as this had
been her idea.  She had me move over to stand by the large freestanding
metal M at the beginning of the college name and, once everyone else was
ready, she explained.

   "You're going to go down the sign, letter by letter, and do your best to
make the shape with your body.  Later, we can edit them together and have a
'Becca Does Mackinaw' compilation!"

   "Won't there need to be a lot more student bodies involved if we really
want to do 'Becca Does Mackinaw'?," Deeta asked.  "I mean, 'Debbie Does
Dallas' is a classic and all, but this group isn't staffed for that..."

   Scrunching her face, Nicky asked, "What is Debbie Does Dallas?"

   I had no idea what Deeta was talking about; Sasha and Monique looked
confused as well.

   Looking between us incredulously, Deeta gave an exasperated sigh and
asked, "Am I the only one with access to the internet or something?  Meh,
just forget it."

   Obviously having Googled it on her phone, Sasha snorted with laughter
and showed Nicky before Monique hustled over to see as well, leaving me
standing awkwardly next to the big M.

   Covering her mouth due to laughter, Nicky teased, "Jeez, Deet, that
porno is from the freaking seventies.  My mom was only five when it came
out.  I bet the ladies in it had bigger bushes than that hedgerow over
there."

   "It's a classic!  Shut up!," was Deeta's only defense.

   Confused, Nicky responded, "It's all about dudes banging some chick,
too. I thought you were into girls..."

   "I like both just fine, thank you very much.  I just learned quick that
dudes are usually giant selfish asshats and ladies are more likely to give
a shit if their partner cums or not.  Pay disparities can fuck right off; I
don't want to receive seventy percent or less of the orgasms that men get!"

   "Amen to that," Sasha agreed with a nod and Monique added, "Preach.ï"

   I thought to myself that I would gladly accept any non-zero percentage
of any number of orgasms right now, but I didn't share that with the group.
A moment later, I realized what I had just thought and wondered how such
ideas were now finding their way into my head with increasing regularity.
Waving her phone around, Monique brought the focus back to me.

   "Enough bullshit, though.  Let's get back to business.  Bex: it's your
time to shine.  Hit us with your best M!"

   With the attention thrust suddenly entirely back on me, I floundered for
how I should respond.  Having never done any sort of cheerleading or
gymnastics, I wasn't particularly flexible and wasn't quite sure how I
should accomplish what had been commanded of me.  In my head, I imagined
all the ways I could make an M with my body and ended up settling for the
most straightforward.  Spreading my legs about two shoulder widths apart, I
bent over in front of the M and put my hands on the ground with my arms
together, so that my legs and my torso and arms formed the three
downstrokes of the letter.  Standing as I was, in an awkward forward bend,
my hair fell directly in my face and I found myself half blind to the world
around me.

   A fresh breeze from behind me subtly alerted me to the fact that,
bending as I was, I had probably caused my skirt to ride up my butt,
leaving my damp undies on full display for anyone standing behind me. 
Peering between my legs, I saw no cars or pedestrians approaching from the
college and breathed a sigh of relief, hoping that this photo session
passed quickly, and without any traffic.  Since I hadn't been told how long
to hold the pose, I just gritted my teeth and waited for someone to tell me
what to do next while the muted click of photos being taken filled the air.

   A moment later, I heard Monique call out, "Haha, that's great!  I
figured you were just going to do the hands on head thing like from the
YMCA dance, but what you're doing is much better.  Just hold like that for
a second."

   When nobody said anything in response to this statement, Deeta
apparently took offense.  "Hold up!  I'm like ninety percent sure that YMCA
by The Village People is from the seventies too.  How come I get mocked
when I reference old shit but Monique gets a free pass?"

   When Monique responded, I heard her voice coming closer and closer,
eventually settling behind me.

   "Because my old shit is a popular dance song still played at weddings
and parties, and your old shit is a pervy porno with mega-bush.  Also, I
can get away with things you can't because I'm much more popular and
prettier than you."

   The two old friends continued exchanging friendly jabs back and forth,
their calm frivolity posing a stark counterpoint to my body's reaction to
what Monique was now doing as she stood directly behind me.  The rapid
flurry of electronic clicks betrayed the fact that she was taking numerous
pictures of my exposed underwear and stuck-out butt.  The verbal jousting
didn't even stop when I saw her feet approach from between my legs and I
suddenly felt the back of my skirt being slid further up my hips.

   Still standing with the others from the group, Deeta yelled to Monique,
"Bitch, please; we have all the same friends.  You have money, and
everybody loves me, and those are the only reasons anyone puts up with you.
Your parents' cash is certainly the only reason I've hung out with you for
the last decade."

   All I could do was whimper as Monique grabbed the elastic band of my
panties and drew it firmly up my backside, burying the back of my underwear
in my buttcrack and causing the damp gusset to form a second skin against
the folds of my sex!

   Stepping back again, she kneeled down behind me, catching my eye between
my legs and giving me a wink before taking several more photos that
included everything, including my shocked face.  All I could do was blink
at her and try to hold my position as it felt like all of the blood rushed
from my nearly buckling legs towards my pulsing crotch.

   "Smile, Bex, your ass and crease are gonna look amazing in these pics,"
she whispered to me, before continuing her repartee with Deeta, calling,
"I'd rather have my money and self respect than your nose ring and
reputation for putting out for anybody who buys you dinner."

   It took several attempts for me to make my face form anything resembling
a normal smile, but she apparently approved, giving me a thumbs up and
snapping several more pictures before returning to join the group in front
of me, stopping only briefly to pat my right buttcheek on her way past. 
That tiny gesture was enough to break my feeble hold on myself and I
collapsed to my knees and elbows, sweaty and panting for air, nearly
breathless for reasons that had nothing to do with the relatively simple
pose I had just been in.

   There was no doubt that Monique knew what effect the very first set of
pictures had had on me.  Peering at the group through my hair, Sasha was
giving me that appraising look again, as if she could look past my skin and
read my soul, so I suspected she knew.  Nicky was laughing at Monique and
Deeta's conversation and was likely ignorant of how hard my arousal had
spiked in the last thirty seconds.

   Looking down, I could clearly see the outlines of my labia through my
damp underwear, and my sparse brown pubic hair was peeking out the sides,
forming a tantalizing frame of the area where my sex positioned, just
barely covered.  The sight almost made me pass out.

   Oblivious to anybody but her own mental state, Deeta just kept jibing at
Monique.

   "I've slept with one person after the first date.  You've slept with one
person total in your life.  You wish you were me."

   "Yeah, whatever," Monique answered.  After a pause, she called back to
me, "Hey, Bex.  Next letter?"

   The rest of the group faced me again and pulled up their phones.  There
I was, kneeling on the ground, hair on my face, breasts hanging down and
swinging with my labored breathing, barely covered by my thin bra, panting
like a dog in heat.  I did the quick mental math; the sign read "Mackinaw
U", so I was only one down with eight to go and I already felt like I had
just done a complete workout at the gym.  An order was an order, however.
It was a struggle to stand, but I moved to the next letter and prepared to
pose again.

   I did A on autopilot, taking Monique's YMCA tease under advisement and
just standing feet apart and hands pointed over my head.  Raising my arms
raised the hem of my skirt enough that I was sure my underwear were once
again on display and Deeta and Monique both took advantage this time of
kneeling on the ground in front of me to get low angle shots up my body.  I
just stood there while they took all the close-ups they liked.

   After taking a few shots, Deeta flicked around on her phone for a second
and held up the screen in front of my face to show me a picture of myself,
arms stretched high as they still were, biting my lip and looking down at
the camera.  If I didn't know any better, I would have said that the
version of me in the photo really wanted the viewer to come closer and see
even more.  I realized I was still biting my lip and putting out major
begging vibes, so I forced myself to stop and adopt a neutral expression.

   "You're so adorable, Bex," Deeta commented, pulling her phone back and
booping me on the nose.  "Next!," she called behind her as she and Monique
rejoined the rest of the group.

   C was just canting my hips to the right and leaning my arms to the left.
Nothing was particularly exposed and the group only took a few photos
before Monique waved me onwards.

   For K, I did half a star jump to get into position, my right arm and leg
straight up and down, and my left limbs at angles.  Monique noticed my move
and giggled before saying, "I think we need to see that move again.  Go
back to standing straight then get into K again."

   Blushing, I straightened out again and did the half star jump move
again. I noticed when I did it that the movement of my body caused my boobs
to jiggle a bit.  Several photos were taken and then Monique, still
giggling, told me, "Forget the letter for a second, just do some actual
star jumps for us, Bex."

   Fully aware that the full exercise move would have my boobs bouncing all
over the place and my skirt likely popping up and flashing constantly, I
tensed myself and did what Monique told me to, jumping up and down in place
and flailing my arms and legs out, then in, then out, then in.  All four of
my friends were either giggling or outright laughing at this point and I
would bet from how their phones were all held in place that there were four
very similar videos being taken of my antics.

   Of course, it was during my extremely embarrassing athletic performance
that a car turned into the driveway into the school grounds.  Even in my
bouncing state I could see the driver slow and almost stop before honking
several times.  The driver's side window rolled down and a woman's voice
shouted, "Nice look, girl!  Y'all need to send me those videos!  Woo woo!"

   Monique and Deeta laughed with her and, for a tense moment,I wondered if
they were going to actually offer to share their footage, but, thankfully,
the girl in the car must have just been joking and, after her woo-ing, she
rolled up her window and drove off.  My face turning beet red, I wanted to
dissolve into my component atoms and drift off with the wind, but I hadn't
been told to stop, so I kept up with my awkward jumping in place until
Nicky finally held up her hand.

   Coming a few steps closer to me as I leaned with my hands on my knees,
trying to catch my breath, she had a concerned look on her face as she
asked, "Are you having fun, Becca?  I'm not seeing a lot of smiles on your
face.  If you're not okay with all of this, it's totally okay to ask us to
ease up or stop."

   The rest of the group seemed to turn as one towards me, eyebrows raised
and looking so damned hopeful that they could continue our game that it
melted my heart a bit.

   Considering Nicky's question, I realized that I hadn't really thought
about what I wanted in what seemed like forever.  Taking stock, yes I was
still a bit terrified to be out doing what I was doing as I was doing it,
and, yes, I still felt completely out of my element, but did I really want
to stop?  I guess, more than anything, I didn't want to disappoint my
friends, and they were all clearly still having fun playing with me.  If I
was forced to be introspective, I might also admit that there was a certain
chemical rush that came with the thrill of doing something naughty in
public, risking consequences unknown.  Who knew that dancing on the edge of
cliffs could be so exciting?

   Not wanting to be the wet blanket that snuffed out everybody's good
time, I decided that, for the sake of my friends' enjoyment, and for my own
exploration, I was going to commit to following every order I received for
the rest of the night as long as they didn't cause me long term distress or
bodily harm.  And not just following, either: I had to put some enthusiasm
into it.  Constant hesitation and whining could be a mood killer, and I
didn't want my friends to feel bad, so I promised myself to obey as
cheerfully and enthusiastically as possible, no matter how much the
circumstances might be tearing me up inside.

   With a big smile on my face, I gave Nicky and the rest of the group a
double thumbs up.  Looking appeased but still slightly confused with my
completely-unlike-me pattern of behavior, Nicky shrugged and said,
"Whatever you want, girl.  Just know I'm here for you," before giving me a
big hug.  Squeezing her tight, I almost teared up and whispered, "I know
you are.  Thank you Nic."

   When Nicky and I separated, Deeta came up and high fived me and then
gave me a hug too, before mussing my hair.  It was already heavily askew
from previous posing, so I didn't bother to spend time fixing it, other
than brushing a few errant strands from my face.

   She gestured for me to stand up straight and I did so, and she laughed
and said, "Congratulations, you've just done I."

   I looked down at myself and then back at her and couldn't help but
giggle at the situation.  The group took their photos and then Deeta asked,
"Do you know what you're doing for the N yet?"

   Having not thought that far ahead, I shook my head in response.

   "Gotcha," she replied.  "Have you ever done any yoga?  Do you know what
bridge pose is?"

   "Uh, no, not really."

   "Kay, no worries.  Lie down and I'll show you.  No, rotate like this. 
There you go.  Now, bring your knees back so your ankles are vertical. 
Little further.  Perfect!"

   She had me positioned on my back, body parallel to the sign with my head
pointing to the right.  My knees were pointed straight up in front of me
and she knelt down next to me.

   "Now, spread your feet apart a bit.  Further.  Further.  There you go.
Next, lift your hips.  Keep going.  Really hump the sky!  Here, let me
help."

   Not being terribly flexible or coordinated, I wasn't sure what I was
doing.  Gravity, combined with the position I was in, had caused my skirt
to pretty much invert on itself, so I now had no covering on my lower body
at all except for my panties, which were still wedged into my two cracks
from Monique's earlier machinations.  Sasha and Nicky were still standing
at their spot near the edge of the grass circle, still taking photos of me
forming letters as intended, but Monique had quietly come to stand in front
of me, taking her photos directly up the corridor formed by my spread legs.
Remembering my promise to myself, I gave her my best smile as I struggled
to form the pose that Deeta was trying to help me into.  Between shots, she
mouthed, "So wet!," and smirked at me and I felt like my crotch might get
so hot that I would melt.

   When my hips didn't lift high enough for Deeta, she took it upon herself
to put her left hand under my butt and help me lift them further.  The hand
made contact briefly before she jerked back looking shocked for a second,
then her face broke into a huge grin and she reached back under me to
better guide my body.  I was confused for just a moment but then I put
Monique's silent comment and Deeta's reaction together and realized that
the seat of my panties was probably as damp as the front at this point. 
Deeta must have been getting literal firsthand evidence of just how turned
on I was right now.  Making eye contact with me, her lifting hand cupped
one of my buttcheeks and gave it a gentle squeeze as she positioned me. 
The squeeze was paired with a deepening of her dimples and a little nose
twitch as her smile got even bigger for a second.

   Her touch on the half bare skin of my ass had already been almost too
much, and the added squeeze caused me to shudder and an involuntary moan
escaped my throat.  I sucked on my lower lip to keep myself quiet and let
her finish pushing me to where she wanted, hoping that her helping hand
might provide further stimulation, but she just winked at me and stepped
back once my back and thighs formed a straight line.  She then took my
right arm and pried it off the ground from where I was using it for balance
and had me stick it straight up into the air.  My entire body was trembling
with the combination of physical effort and other, more intimate needs.

   Stepping back, she held her hand out proudly in my direction and
announced to the group, "Ladies and ladies, I give you: N!"

   Two seconds later, my whole body buckled under the strain and I crumpled
to the ground.  The whole group laughed at the perfect timing of my
collapse and, despite the hormones raging in my bloodstream, I couldn't
help but giggle along, whatever spell I had been under for the last moment
having been broken.

   Laughing along with everyone else, Deeta reached her right hand down and
helped me stand up off the ground, smoothing my skirt down with my free
hand and trying to regain a tiny shred of my modesty back as I went. 
Without letting my hand go, she caught my eye, giving me a strange look,
and raised her left hand to her face.  First, she took a long and steady
inhale through her nose, letting out a throaty "mmmmmm" sound.  Then, she
reached out and made an exaggerated show of slowly licking from the base of
her wrist to the tip of her middle finger, before forming a fist and
pressing it between hr breasts as if to say Thank You.  It took me a second
while I struggled to figure out the significance of her actions, but
then...

   Had that been the hand that she had lifted my butt with?  The one that
had just spent several seconds massaging my damp panties...  Had she
just...?

   Ho-lee Shit!

   My legs went weak and I felt like I was going to fall over again, having
to lock my knees in order to remain vertical.  It was a struggle to force
myself to keep breathing.  While I stood there with my mouth hanging open
like a dying fish, she gave me a flirty wink and finally let go of my other
hand before walking back to join the other girls.  Glancing in their
direction, I was relieved to see that the others were too busy passing
phones back and forth comparing pictures to have noticed what just went on.
I felt like I needed someone to dump a cooler full of iced water over my
head before my body overheated and I melted into a vaguely Rebecca shaped
puddle on the ground.

   There was a brief period where nobody was paying me any attention and I
found myself just standing there dumbly, not sure what to do.  Needing the
distraction of the photo shoot to get my mind out of my panties, I forced
myself to speak up and voluntarily asked the group, "Next letter?"

   This turned focus back to me once again and I stepped in front of the A
to do the hands-above-head Village People move.  There were a few
disinterested photos taken, I guess because this was just a repeat of a
pose I had done before, before Monique waved me on to the penultimate W. 
Relieved to be thinking about the photoshoot rather than my rampant
horniniess, I ran into a bit of a brick wall for this letter.  I first
tried putting my arms up at angles but the group was not satisfied with
this, Deeta asking, "Isn't that Y or V or something?"

   "Doesn't look like a W to me," Monique added.

   Next, I tried leaning back and kicking one leg up with my arms stuck out
in front of me at angles.  This awkward pose drew a laugh from the group
and it was Nicky who commented, "That looks like more of a backwards
extra-F or something."

   "The next hottest dance club move, the Triple Angled F, brought to you
by Ms.  Becky Hall!," Deeta declared before giggling.

   Blushing once again, I straighted up and started wracking my brain about
other possibilities.

   With a teasing grin on her face, Monique asked coyly, "Want some help,
Bex?  I have an idea."

   Despite knowing that Monique's helpful ideas often ended up with me
losing portions of my clothing or modesty, I recognized that I was stuck
without ideas and that my public showing wouldn't end until I finished out
this impromptu photo shoot.  With that in mind, I remembered my promise to
myself, and tried to look eager when I said, "Sure, what do you want me to
do?"

   "Lie down on your back, feet towards me."

   Complying with false enthusiasm, I lay down as she asked, just in front
of the W, and smiled up at her while waiting for her next instruction.  She
took an appraising stance with her arms folded on top of each and looked
down at me for a few seconds before nodding.  Without warning, she bent
down and grabbed my ankles and drug me forward about three feet on the
smooth grass.  The sudden motion drew a squeak from me but the movement was
over before I realized what was happening.  Dropping my left ankle, she
lifted my right up wide and pushed it as far back as my inflexible body
would go.

   "There," she stated, nodding and looking pleased with herself.  "Now you
do the other one."

   With a bit of effort, my left leg joined my right in the air and Monique
stepped back to appraise.  With my legs up as they were, I looked and felt
like I was sitting in an invisible gynecologist's chair, my ankles up in
stirrups to present my barely covered sex for public inspection.  The drag
through the grass had caused my skirt to invert once again, turning it into
more of a scrunched tube top for my lower belly, and I just knew that my
underwear were on full display, mushed into the damp lips of my vagina.  I
refused to look down at my crotch as I wasn't sure I could take what I
might see.

   "Finishing touch, Bex.  Stick an arm up and give everybody a wave; that
can be the middle of the W."

   Raising my arm to do as she asked, I felt ridiculous and exposed.  There
I was, on my back, flashing a group of my friends (and potentially any
passing members of the general public) my wet panties, smiling and waving
at them like I was the fricking Queen of England on walkabout.

   Looking thoroughly pleased with herself with the end product she helped
to create out of my body, Monique gave me a thumbs up, and said, "Perfect,
just hold that pose exactly like that."

   When she stepped aside, giving the rest of the group their first view of
me, Sasha had to hide a smile and Deeta laughed so hard she snorted. 
Nicky's jaw dropped open and she stepped forward to take a closer look at
me.

   Frowning, she warned me, "Uh, Bex?  You're kinda hanging out there,
babe. You good?"

   The big, fake smile plastered on my face like a rictus grin, I continued
my casual waving out of habit and slowly raised my head to glance down my
body in an attempt to see what the rest of the group saw.  My eyes first
passed over my chest; my bra was still in place and 'the girls' were still
covered, but my nipples were still doing their best to drill their way out.
I purposefully ignored them and moved my gaze lower.

   Some combination of my previous movements and getting dragged through
the grass had caused my already stretched panties to get pulled even
tighter against my throbbing lower lips.  With how wet I was currently, the
panties were already partially transparent, my obscene cameltoe offering a
display that required very little imagination to fill in.  Imagination
wasn't strictly required any longer, however, as the cotton fabric of the
gusset of my underwear had nestled itself partially between my labia lips,
making my already swollen, fleshy folds appear volumized and spread as they
peeked out the sides.  The moment I laid eyes upon myself, I swear to God,
I saw my vagina twitch under my panties and my vision whited out to
everything except my formerly private parts.

   If you had poked me with a cattle prod, I don't know that you could have
forced me to look away from myself at that moment, my brain working
overtime to sear this new image of myself into my cortex.  Numb to the
world, I'm not sure how much time passed, but eventually, Nicky's voice
calling, "Becca?  Bex?  Earth to Rebecca," worked its way into my
consciousness and I broke my gaze on my bulging sex to look up at her
again.

   "Sup, space cadet?" With concern in her voice, she crouched down to ask,
"Seriously, are you feeling okay?"

   Okay wasn't in my vocabulary any longer.  I had no idea where I was
mentally, but it certainly wasn't anywhere familiar.  My heartbeats felt
more like the flitting of a hummingbird's wing and I could see a wet sheen
at the top of both of my thighs from where I had been leaking on myself
throughout the photo shoot.  My body was obviously loving being on display,
but my mind hadn't caught up yet and I wasn't really sure I wanted it to. A
demented portion of my brain wanted to reach down and pull my panties to
the side so I could show the world the little bit of me down there that it
was still missing.  A more reasonable voice in my head advised me to run
away, far and fast.  The main part of my brain, however, ended up mimicking
what my body was doing and what I was used to: rolling over and giving up
control.

   "I'm fine," I assured Nicky, feeling not so assured myself.  On a whim,
I added, "This is all so exciting, I only wish I could go even further. 
I'll let you know if we cross any lines." In reality, we had already
crossed the line.  Several lines, in fact.  It felt like there was nothing
behind me but lines, but I felt duty bound to be a 'good girl' as Sasha had
called me, and to continue doing as I was being told.

   Nicky stared at my smiling face for a long moment before glancing at my
waving hand, and then taking her eyes on a brief tour of my body before
approaching to kneel beside me.

   "Even further, huh?," she questioned, flicking her right index finger
across one of my nipples, causing me to flinch and groan.

   Why had I told her that?

   "If that's what you really want, I'll stop pumping the brakes on your
behalf.  I can't say I really understand where you're coming from right
now, but you're my bestie and I'm down to help you live out whatever
fantasy it is that you're chasing.  I guess we can start with this."

   Still smiling, still legs akimbo, I watched as my best friend in the
whole world reached down to grab the front of my exposed panties and began
to shimmy them back and forth over my folds.

   "ohfuck," I wheezed in response to the sensation, the words barely
indistinguishable from a moan as they breezed directly from my throat out
into the world.

   By working the gusset of my panties back and forth a few times, Nicky
managed to scrunch the front panel into a thin, vertical line of fabric
buried between my, now well defined and prominently displayed, labia lips.
My fine, brown pubic hair lined the sides like lace ruffles on fancy
lingerie.

   Seconds away from cumming from even this tiny amount of stimulation, I
broke my fake smile to look up at Nicky with, what I hoped was, all of the
need and yearning in my body written on my face.  Modesty, privacy, and
respectability could all go to hell in that moment; I would have given
every single thing I held dear to be pushed that last little bit of the way
across the threshold into the sweet release of an orgasm.

   Missing or ignoring my signs, Nicky's only response was to frown at her
now damp hand and wipe it off on the inside of my skirt, leaving several
small trails of wetness behind.  I whimpered in agitation.

   Standing and smiling down on me as if proud to have helped, she told me,
"There, that's a bit further.  If you want more, you're going to have to do
it yourself.  We don't have any Purell and, well, you've got kind of a
nasty swamp thing going on down there right now, bae."

   She laughed at this and Monique, standing to the side, joined in.  Deeta
was whispering to Sasha several feet away and I was sure they were all
privately judging me for their own amusement.  I silently wished they would
all just take their pictures so I could get somewhere private and finish
myself off.  Through it all, I had somehow continued to wave at them all
like an idiot and once again pasted my happy smile on my face.

   After a bit of good natured ribbing, and quite a bit of pointing and
whispering, the group finally settled down and began taking their photos.
Displaying a comparative lack of the shame that felt like was dominating my
existence currently, Deeta and Monique even got down and took a bunch of
super closeups of my newly split lower lips.  As they happily snapped away,
I thought to myself, "Those pictures can never, ever, ever go anywhere near
the eyes of the public." Immediately after having that thought, I had
another, realizing lamely, "But I'm in public right now, and we haven't
even gotten to dinner yet!"

   Laying there on the ground, on salacious display, my oozing sex dripping
my oily juices down the crack of my butt, all I could really bring myself
to do was grin and bear it...  or I guess grin and bare it might have been
more accurate.

   After what felt like an excessive amount of photos had been taken of my
intimate display from every conceivable interesting angle, the group
finally settled down and Deeta helped me up.

   "These are some good pics, Bex.  I'll bet you'll love how they turned
out.  We'll all be able to go back and remember today in
whatever-million-megapixel-iPhones-are-up-to-these-days HD forever.  I bet
you could even count the number of pubes sticking out of your unicorn
undies if you had the time and inclination...  Not that I was paying super
close attention to your pubic area, or anything." Sidling closer to me, she
nudged me and stage whispered, "Psst, I totally was, Bee Tee Dubs,"
followed by an indulgent giggle.

   Shivering at the implication, I glanced at her and gave her a small,
helpless smile.  For some reason, I found my gaze lingering on her face,
noticing the way her cheeks dimpled with her teasing smile, and the slight
glint of the fading sunlight reflecting off the stud in her nose as she
giggled.  With a shock, I had to question myself: am I attracted to Padita?

   In my mind I started rapid fire listing reasons why going down that path
was a bad idea.  "She's your friend.  She's a girl.  She might already be
seeing someone else.  She's just teasing you.  You're just horny out of
your mind.  You're in no state to make rational decisions right now.  Just
Don't Think About It.  Just Don't Think About It.  Just Don't Think About
It.  Just Don't Think About It.  Just Don't Think About It.  Just don't..."

   Then I thought about it.

   The feeling of her hand on my back...  The way she squeezed my butt...
The joke-y sniff and lick after...  The hugging and the high fiving and the
attention and the teasing...

   Then, like I was going down a waterslide, picking up speed, I found
myself thinking about her body.  She had a nose stud and a tongue stud...
Were her nipples pierced too?

   Feeling like I had been hypnotized by forced unknown, my eyes took it
upon themselves to stare at her chest as if trying to mentally pry their
way past her navy blouse and the bra beneath that you could just barely
make out the outline of.  After a few seconds of this, her sultry voice
came down from above asking, "You wanna see 'em?"

   Hearing the question was like awakening from a frightening dream, only
to find out that your reality was as messed up and confusing as the
slumbering ravings of your nonsensical subconscious.  These thoughts and
this behavior was not at all like me.  In my head, I screamed, "What the
hell are you doing?!?," at myself.  Objectifying a friend, was the
unfortunate and shameful answer and I realized that, through many tiny
actions, I was now what felt like light-years away from my typical realm of
comfortable, conservative decision making.

   A flat, "uhhhh," sound was the best I could muster in verbal reply to
her question.

   I was about four H's into my non-reply before she interrupted me with,
"Well TOO BAD, these ladies are staying caged!," jiggling her boobs under
her shirt for emphasis.  "I wouldn't want to break out my magical ta-tas
and steal all the attention away from your cutie nudie booty."

   Giggling again, she stepped past me to get back to the other ladies, her
shoulder and arm brushing mine, but paused to whisper, just for me, "Maybe
later, 'kay?," and gave me a wink before rejoining the group.

   My whole body frozen, I just stared off after her, her words feeling
like they were burning holes in my brain to parts unaccessed before.

   Maybe later.

   Later.

   Later, I could finally get dressed again.  Later, I could take the rest
of my clothes off and masturbate.  Later I could finally be alone and away
from prying eyes.  Later I could...  what...  be with Deeta?

   'Later' was an alluring and frightening place full of conflicting
desires, hidden by the unknown.  Idly brushing the loose grass off my
backside, I struggled to figure it all out but, finding no magical
clairvoyant sight to tell me what the future might bring, I decided the
best thing to do would be to distract myself as much as possible until
Later became Now.

   "Time for the last letter," I cheerfully announced in a
probably-way-too-high-pitched and far-too-chipper voice, eager to move on
from my thoughts and this place.

   When everyone was ready, I took my position in front of the end of the
sign and made a U with my arms above my head.  Several perfunctory photos
were taken, and then we were done.  Even for me, with my fervent desire to
wrap the whole process up, it felt anticlimactic.

   I don't know what I had been expecting.  To end up stripped naked and
tied to a flagpole?  For a holiday parade to come by and put me on the Six
O'clock news?  Reality turned out to be a much more boring place than the
fringes of my imagination.  Was it possible that I was disappointed by
this?

   Nonetheless, at long last (though we had probably only been here for
twenty minutes), the current ordeal was over and so I asked the group, "Are
we going to go eat now?"

   Nicky's enthusiasm was telling.  "Please!  I would chase a wooly mammoth
across the Arctic tundra with a stick right now if it meant I could consume
it."

   Letting the stressed muscles of my body relax a tiny bit, and breathing
out a large sigh of relief, I turned and began to walk towards the path
back to the main road.

   "Hey, I have an idea for one more photo," Monique announced.

   My muscles tensed twice as hard as before and locked me in place for a
second.  Sucking my relief back in, I re-summoned my happy face, turning
and delivering my most excited sounding, "Okay!," as Nicky groaned and
Sasha rolled her eyes at us.

   Walking further into the grass circle, Monique waved for me.  "Awesome.
Bex, c'mere and let Magic Mike's magic hands do their thing.  You're going
to let him live up to his legend."

   Magic Mike was the informal name students had given Big Mike, the
anthropomorphized tiger mascot for the college.  The reference to his magic
hands was because the statue that stood next to the Mackinaw U sign had his
arms up as if giving a hug to some invisible party.  This was all well and
good, but his hands were wide with fingers spread and slightly curled, and
some joker at some point in the past had pointed out that it looked like
the statue was actually groping a pair of unseen breasts.

   Ridiculous as it was, the joke had stuck around and had eventually
become part of the University's mythos.  Another student, I imagine some
permanently horny fraternity dudebro, had introduced the concept of 'honk
if you love honking' based on this legend and, to this day, people would
occasionally honk their car horns when driving past the statue to celebrate
Mike's honking of a great big pair of imaginary boobs.

   Having heard the legend before, it wasn't difficult for me to figure out
what pose Monique had in mind for the final picture.  Wanting to get the
whole photo shoot over with, I ducked under Mike's circled arms and stood
up on tiptoes so that my chest was covered by his grasping hands.

   Frowning, Monique looked at the scene.  "That's no good, your bra straps
ruin the shot and you look way too blasÃ(C) about it.  Here, let's do
this."

   Without asking or ordering, Monique stepped up and thumbed my bra straps
off my shoulders, down onto my upper arms.  Panicking, I reached up,
prepared to grab my boobs when my bra inevitably fell off, but the shoulder
straps just hung there limp while the elastic of the backstrap held the
cups in place.

   Stepping back and checking the look on her phone, she complained, "Well,
your face is better, but it still doesn't look right." Pausing in thought
for a moment, she shrugged and, with a suspiciously straight face,
concluded, "You're going to have to give me the bra."

   Inside, I was screaming.  But...  But...  Three pieces of clothing! 
That was the deal!

   I knew I should say nuh uh, no way, not a chance.  Instead I squeaked
out, "I don't want to get arrested."

   "Don't be silly.  We're all right here.  Do you see any cops around? 
Just give me the bra and we'll be done with it."

   There we go; I had been told twice.  No wriggling out now.

   Trying to keep my body from shaking, I slowly reached behind myself and
unfastened the only remaining piece of clothing that I had for the top half
of my body, pulling it off and handing it to Monique with all the
enthusiasm of a starving woman handing over her last few pennies to the tax
collector.

   Shifting her head around to try and get a better view through the
statue's fingers, Deeta took in my new look and declared, "Now we're
talking!"

   Meanwhile, Monique whisked my final top covering out of my hands, folded
it up, and stuck it in her bag before closing the flap.  My forgotten ID,
stuck to my right boob with sweat, chose this moment to fall off and landed
in the grass at my feet and Monique bent down to pick this up too.

   "You can have the ID back later," she teased.

   Approaching where I was standing and speaking loudly enough that I was
sure that Monique could hear her, Nicky asked, "You don't expect to get any
of the clothes you've given her back, do you?" Monique just smirked at this
and she, Nicky, and Deeta laughed together at, presumably, my naivety.

   Watching the bra disappear into Monique's tote, I felt a sense of
finality with the one-sided exchange, and, like Nicky said, became sure
that I wouldn't be seeing it again...  Just like my socks and shirt before,
my bra was no longer mine.  All that I had left was my
artificially-mini-skirt and my so-damp-as-to-be-transparent unicorn panties
to get me through the rest of the night.

   A forward thinking part of me wondered how I was going to manage to
convince the restaurant we were going to to let me in without anything to
cover myself with.  A more practical part of me pointed out that I couldn't
possibly manage to walk the rest of the way TO the restaurant topless
without dying of shame, so the task of getting seated was likely moot.

   Standing in Mike's not-so-warm embrace, now topless, my first instinct
was to cover my bare chest with my arms, but I had promised earlier not to
cover up what the group exposed of myself.  Or had I been ordered not to?
Was there a difference any more?  It didn't matter, my breasts were fully
on display to the world except for the cool clutching of Big Mike.  I
wanted to cry and to cum, maybe at the same time.

   The show must go on, however, and I was the star, love it or hate it. 
Without a bra on, Monique seemed much happier with how her shots were
turning out.  In an attempt to preserve the little bit of modesty I had
left, I pressed my ladies into Big Mike's cold metal hands so that nothing
would show when Monique or Deeta inevitably came in for an ultra low angle
shot.  The feeling of getting groped by a frigid iron giant was novel in a
way that I was sure would haunt my dreams and/or nightmares for a long time
to come.  At one point, when I accidentally pinched myself between the gap
between two of his fingers, I realized that the statue's hands weren't
perfectly matched for a woman of my stature; rather than his palms acting
as the cups of a makeshift hand-bra, my nipples were instead nestled just
barely in the edges of the gaps between his thick fingers.

   None of my friends had bothered to point this fact out to me while they
took their constant stream of photos, though the fact did explain some of
the giggling and whispering they were doing amongst themselves.  As badly
as I needed release, I allowed myself to make the ignoble decision to
subtly try and rub my nipples up and down the rungs of Mike's hand
formation, wanting to curl up and die of embarrassment the entire time, but
unable to stop myself nonetheless.  Unfortunately, Deeta called an end to
things much too quickly for me to get anything out of my actions except to
wind my inner spring up even tighter than it was before.  If I didn't find
a way to uncoil soon, a feather touch might end up causing me to explode.

   "As fun as this was, and as hard as it will be not to finger myself to
these pictures later-"

   O M G, my brain screamed.  Deeta!  Mercy!  Please!

   "-I'm with Nicky.  Hunger is winning out over horniness here.  We can
play with Becca more after we go eat, but we gotta go eat."

   "Okay, okay.  We can go now," Monique conceded.  "That pose was just too
perfect to pass up."

   "Yeah," Nicky stated, staring right at me with an unexpected intensity,
"Let's all go to the restaurant."

   Monique and Deeta started to walk away but Sasha, sensing that something
was up, stayed behind, her gaze roaming curiously between Nicky and I. 
Frozen in indecision on how to proceed, I just stood there getting groped
by a statue with Nicky matching my lack of movement.  She stood stock
still, rooted in place with her arms crossed, waiting for me to make a
move. When the rest of us didn't follow them, Monique and Deeta turned to
look back our way.

   "Well, Becca, you coming?," Nicky asked, a bit too loudly, adding a
raised eyebrow for emphasis.

   Poor as the coverage of Big Mike's hands was, it was still the only
coverage I had available.  Unsure what I should do, I reached up to cover
my boobs with my own hands but, recalling the no covering rule, I lowered
my arms to my sides yet again.  It took an eternity of Nicky's pointed
staring at me for me to gather the courage to speak, but I eventually
managed to croak out a tiny, "Help."