The Naked Gymnast
by Misslexia ©

Hello. My name is Miranda. It was during my second year at university that 
this incident happened. I hope you find the retelling of it interesting. I 
am blushing at the recall of the events and hope that by putting them here 
for everyone to read it will start to free me from my embarrassment. 

I was a keen gymnast. Not a very good one, but I belonged to a club as a 
child and so, when I started at university I decided to join the 
gymnastics club, partly to keep fit and active but also to make friends. 

During my second year our coach, a quite fierce lady called Carole 
Hathaway, decided that we should enter some competitions, to sharpen us up 
by giving us something to aim for. I was selected to do the floor 
exercises; my friends Trish (beam), Monica (asymmetric bars) and Julia 
(vault) were also selected. We all practised hard, but also had a good 
laugh. 

I overslept on the day of the competition and was woken by Julia knocking 
frantically on my door. I got up, dressed hurriedly and threw my kit into 
my bag and dashed out. Miss Hathaway was driving, and I was squeezed in 
the back with Monica and Julia. I hadn't kept them waiting and we soon 
arrived at the venue, only a few minutes late. 

We were directed to the changing room. To my dismay it was just a room 
with benches round it and not the changing cubicles I was used to at the 
university. This was a big thing for me, especially surrounded by other 
gymnasts, since I was rather self-conscious of my figure. By normal 
standards my figure is fine, but in the company of other gymnasts I am 
always one of the plumper and curvier ones. For some time now I have found 
it quite intimidating to be surrounded by so many stunning figures. 
Reluctantly I put my bag on the bench with the other girls and began to 
change. 

I took my kit from my bag and saw that I had forgotten to pack my sports 
bra. Inwardly I groaned; if my ordinary bra didn't show under my leotard I 
would have to try to wear that. I took off my clothes folding them 
carefully. I felt that everyone else was staring at me as they sat round 
the edge of the room, already changed. I struggled into my leotard. 

"You can't wear those with that Miranda!" said Monica in a whisper that 
was just too loud and attracted a few peoples attention. 

"What can't I wear?" I mumbled back, conscious of the attention. 

"Those knickers. They show!" 

I looked down. She was right. I had forgotten how hi-cut the legs were on 
my competition leotard. Cursing under my breath, I struggled out of the 
leotard and then, blushing, slipped out of my knickers. I wouldn't be the 
first time I had gone knicker-less under my leotard and no-one will know I 
told myself. Behind me I was sure I heard giggling as I redressed. 

My bra was another no-no. The straps were in just the wrong places and the 
back just too high. I slipped my arms out of the leotard and reached back 
to unhook my bra. I was sure several of the girls were staring at my 
boobs, thinking how disgustingly big they were for me to do gym. I blushed 
some more and pulled my top back on. 

There was nothing to do now but wait as the floor exercises were scheduled 
last. To be supportive we all made our way to the arena to watch each 
other. 

As we walked through the crowd of spectators and competitors I noticed 
that I was attracting attention. Men couldn't take their eyes off my bust. 
As I walked my boobs were jiggling furiously, without the support of my 
sports bra. I blushed. My bum too was drawing attention from those behind 
me as the material rode up, exposing my bum cheeks. I was pleased when we 
reached the seating area and I could hide amongst my friends. 

The seating was a system of wooden benches, we had quite a bit of room in 
our corner and I leant back, relaxing, trying to concentrate on the 
competition. My team mates did well in their events and we were in with a 
small chance of finishing in the top three teams. 

My event was next. I sat up, or rather I tried to. The back of my leotard 
was caught on something. I tugged forward. This time I moved by there was 
a distinct ripping sound. 

"Oh my god, Miranda, you've torn the back out of your leotard!" exclaimed 
Trish. 

She was right. The material had torn in a gaping hole exposing my back all 
the way down to my bum. 

"Shit!" I exclaimed, "What can I do?" 

Like my leotard I was torn. If I didn't compete our chances of a medal 
were gone and it didn't seem fair on the others. On the other hand I 
couldn't compete looking like this. Then there was an announcement over 
the loudspeakers. 

"Last call for the competitors in the floor exercises. Report to the 
judges table immediately!" 

Julia had an idea. 

"Quick Miranda, borrow my leotard, it shouldn't be too small" Julia 
offered and she began to take hers off. Under hers she was wearing a 
sports bra and knickers, so for her it was no worse than being on the beach 
in a bikini. 

"I've nothing on under mine" I whispered. 

"No-one's looking, be quick" she urged. 

She was wrong. I could see some of people around me smirking as I began to 
strip off my leotard, revealing my nakedness. Just as Julia handed me her 
leotard there was another announcement. 

"Floor exercise competitors must report to the judges table within the 
next 30 seconds, please; otherwise they will be disqualified." 

I looked at the people around me smirking at my predicament. 

"You'll have to go!" said Julia. "Put it on over there." 

The rule was really petty, but Julia was right. If I didn't go, they would 
throw me out of the competition and that would ruin our chances in the 
team competition. Blushing I clutched the leotard in front of me, hiding 
my boobs and pussy as best I could, very conscious of my naked bum as I 
made my way down the steps and around the arena floor. The stares of the 
passers-by burnt into me as I struggled not to expose too much flesh. I 
tried not to hear the comments, some rude ("look at the chubby one!") some 
rude, but complimentary ("nice bum!") and some just shocked ("She's got 
nothing on!"). I tried not to listen, but I couldn't. The comments burnt 
into my mind, just as much as my cheeks were burning. There was worse to 
come. The judges table was on the far side of the main hall. The main 
hall, full of spectators, officials and competitors! And so there I made 
my way; naked, clutching the leotard to my front, blushing and wishing 
this nightmare could be over. 

The sight of a naked gymnast, clutching her leotard in front of her did 
not go un-noticed. A ripple of noise, people giggling or muttering, 
followed me round the hall, causing anyone who hadn't spotted me to look 
to see what the commotion was all about. I was the centre of attention. I 
blushed deeply and fought back the tears I could feel welling up in my 
eyes. 

After what seemed like an eternity I arrived at the judges table and 
reported in. 

"You appear to be having a bit of a problem" observed the chief judge, a 
sharp-faced woman. 

"I ripped my leotard and I didn't have time to change properly." 

"Well you'll have to slip it on as quickly as you can, you're first." 

"First, can't I swap?" I pleaded. 

"No!" snapped the woman nastily, "if you are not on the floor in 10 
seconds you forfeit your go." 

I quickly stepped into the leotard, not caring if anyone saw more than 
they had already seen, and staggered towards the mat trying to pull the 
leotard up my legs as I went. Julia was a size smaller than me and I was 
tricky to get it over my hips. 

For a few seconds my boobs and pussy were completely exposed. 

I tugged frantically and finally I just had to slip my arms into the 
sleeves and pull it up fully. Luckily I had got it on the right way round! 
I was not very comfortable. The leotard was cutting in round my crotch and 
riding up round my bum, but the music started and off I went into my 
routine. There was a murmur of approval form the men as I ran across the 
mat for my first jump sequence as my boobs jiggled, but I managed to 
concentrate and hit my landing. I managed to shut my embarrassment out of 
my find as I focussed on the next sequence. I performed admirably under 
the circumstances and it seemed that my ordeal had made me something of an 
audience favourite, as I received loud applause at the conclusion of each 
sequence, and evenly louder applause with a few cheers mixed in. As I ran 
off at the end I burst into teas of relief. 

I didn't win, but did well enough for the team to sneak into third place. 
At the medal ceremony I borrowed a tracksuit, so Julia could have her 
leotard back, changing in the sanctuary of the changing rooms. 

"Well done Miranda, you coped very well under difficult circumstances," 
said Miss Hathaway approvingly, as we drove home. 

"Yes well done!" chorused the others. 

Julia had the last word, making us all laugh. 

"If flashing like that wins us bronze medals, you'll have to compete naked 
next time. You can be Miranda the naked gold medallist!" 

"No way!" I said firmly. 

*

And that was the story of the time I was naked in front of a hall full of 
people. Thanks to this site people all over the world will know about it. 
That should help me overcome my embarrassment... shouldn't it? 




The Naked Gymnast's Night Out
by Misslexia ©

Hello again, I'm Miranda, remember me? Perhaps you have read my account of 
my misadventures at a gymnastics contest, where I ended up naked in front 
of a crowd. I put my story on this site when I was advised to talk about 
it to overcome my deep sense of humiliation. I did feel strangely 
liberated by doing it; oddly knowing that the whole world could read it 
took away some of the shame. 

What I didn't expect was for it to land me in another, similar situation 
only last month. 

Since leaving university I have been working for a financial company in 
the City. Recently I changed departments and found myself working with a 
girl of my own age called Linzi. We quickly became friends as well as 
colleagues, often going out after work to have a good time. One Friday she 
told me that she had arranged for us to go on a double date. She had met a 
guy over lunch and arranged to meet him and his mate at a club that 
evening. I wasn't exactly dressed for clubbing but she was so insistent I 
agreed. Linzi suggested that we went back to her place, using the tube, 
where she'd find me something to wear. 

On the way she chatted incessantly about James, the guy she had met. He 
was apparently, perfect, good-looking, sensitive, a real gentleman and 
nothing like her previous boyfriends. She may have said some more but I 
stopped listening a few stops into our journey and just tried to appear 
interested. Her flat was a short walk from the tube station and we soon 
arrived. 

Once there she sorted me out something to wear to the club. This proved a 
little problematic as our dress sizes weren't a perfect match. As I 
mentioned in my first story, whilst I am not fat, I am quite curvy whereas 
Linzi is less well-endowed, even a bit skinny. Thus any of her dresses 
were quite snug. Wearable, but definitely figure hugging! Eventually we 
settled on a white halter-neck dress and now the seeds for disaster were 
sown. 

Linzi passed judgment on my appearance. "The dress looks fine, but your 
bra straps are showing and you have the worst case of visible panty line 
in the history of the world!" 

"Well I'll have to take them both off then. I'll go commando!" I replied 
giggling. 

Perhaps if we hadn't had a couple of glasses of wine already or perhaps if 
I wasn't feeling quite so self confident after unburdening myself by 
posting the story of the gym contest on the internet I would had said 
something different, but I didn't and so a few minutes later we were on 
our way back to the tube to go back into town for our double date. 

The walk back to the tube station had proved that the dress provided 
almost, but not quite enough support for my boobs, which jiggled furiously 
as I walked, and that the dress was very figure hugging. I was attracting 
lots of admiring glances from passing men, which I found very flattering. 
On the tube even the motion of the train caused my boobs to jiggle, which 
proved of great interest to the guy opposite. Unfortunately for him his 
girlfriend didn't like the way he was staring so he got a dig in the ribs 
and I got a filthy look. As we neared town the carriage filled up and 
people had to stand. A sleazy looking businessman, in a cheap suit, took 
advantage of this to stand in front of me trying to look at my cleavage. 
However I didn't mind too much or so I kept telling my self. A small voice 
inside my head kept telling me I should have worn a less revealing outfit 
and kept my underwear on. 

At the club we met James and my date for the evening Mark. We stood around 
drinking for a while. For someone who was supposed to be with Linzi, it 
struck me that James was paying me rather a lot of attention. Things got 
worse when Mark took a call on his mobile and made his excuses and left. 

"Never mind Miranda, we'll just make it a threesome!" said James in the 
sort of tone of voice that suggested that he was only joking, but that if 
we were up for the idea, then he was serious. 

"No thanks, I probably leave too soon." 

"Oh that's a shame" said Linzi in a voice full of relief. She'd obviously 
noticed James eyeing me up. 

James took control and bought another round of drinks, postponing my 
departure. Obviously cross Linzi went to the loo. James made his move. 

"You look stunning in that dress, Miranda." 

"Thanks, but aren't you Linzi's date?" 

"Well she's very nice, but I like a woman with curves in the right places" 
he said leering at me, adding "Like you." 

"Sorry James, but Linzi's a good friend so I'm not gonna do this to her." 

"Ok Miranda, fair enough. Can I have one dance as a consolation?" 

I probably should have refused. Once we were on the dance floor he took 
every chance to pull me close to him, feeling my curves, which he so 
admired, through the thin material of the dress. It wasn't unpleasant, 
quite the reverse, but I knew Linzi wouldn't be too pleased. As we came 
off the dance floor I could tell from her face, furious, rather than 
unhappy, was nearer the truth. 

"Having fun?" she snapped. 

"Look, Linzi, it was just one dance, I didn't wanna be rude and refuse." 

"Yeah, right!" she muttered and then she threw her drink over me. I was 
drenched in rum and cola all down the front of the white dress. 
Immediately she was apologetic, as concerned about me as her dress. We set 
off for the loo to try to repair the damage. She wet some paper towel and 
began dabbing at the dress, muttering "I'm sorry" over and over. Her 
dabbing was having little effect. 

"Look Miranda, slip the dress off, I'll soak it in the sink and dry it 
under the hand drier." 

"Linzi I can't, I've got no underwear on remember." 

"Please, the dress will be ruined and you can hide in one of the cubicles. 
Please!" 

I felt so guilty that she had thought I was trying to steal James and she 
was so insistent I agreed. In the privacy of a cubicle I slipped out of 
the wet dress and handed it to her. 

"Be quick!" I hissed, closing the door. 

"Have fun, you man-stealing slut! I'm leaving now, see you later Miranda!" 


And with that she was gone! I was naked in a night club toilet, with just 
my shoes and my handbag. I sat on the loo seat and began to cry. 

I wasn't left to cry for long. There was a banging on the door. 

"Oi! There's people out here needing a piss, come out and snivel somewhere 
else!" called out and angry sounding woman. A few other voices were raised 
in agreement. 

I kept quiet, not knowing what to say. The banging on the door got angrier 
then subsided as a new voice appeared. 

"Keep the noise down! What's going on here?" 

I listened as the situation was explained. There was a more civilized 
knock on the door and then a calmer voice asked "This is Ms Scott, 
assistant manager. Are you alright Miss?" 

That's a good question I thought. Does naked in a night club loo count as 
alright I wondered? 

"Umm, I'm not hurt or ill but I do have a bit of a problem." 

"What's your name?" 

"Miranda" I replied. 

"Well Miranda, what's the matter?" 

"My friend spilt her drink over my dress and she said she'd wash it out, 
so I took it off and she had gone with the dress." I hesitated, biting my 
lip, before adding, "So now I've got nothing on." 

There was laughter from the crowd. 

There were signs that Ms Scott was trying very hard not to laugh as she 
said, "Well if you'd unlock the door we can go to my office where you 
might be more comfortable." 

Reluctantly I unlocked the door and emerged to be confronted by the crowd 
and Ms Scott. The anger had turned into amusement, although the woman 
nearest the door did push past me into the loo before I had got out of the 
door. Ms Scott took off her waistcoat and saying, "Put this on Miranda and 
we'll go to the office." 

I did put it on but it was very short, leaving me exposed below the waist 
and its very fitted style meant that it wouldn't button up to cover my 
boobs. I held it as shut as I could manage with one hand and held my 
handbag so it covered my pussy, took a deep breath and followed Ms Scott 
out of the safety of the ladies loo and into the club. Her office was on 
the far side of the club to the toilets, on the far side of the dance 
floor and bar area, so I was lead right round the club. It was quite dark, 
as night clubs usually are, but it was too bright for my liking. Calling 
on all my reserves of confidence I tried to walk proudly behind Ms Scott, 
rather that skulking as if something was wrong, but it was a façade. 
Inside I was flinching from every look and every comment. It was hard not 
to flash a glimpse of my pubic hair or my boobs and every time I did 
someone seemed to see. Just like the time at the gym contest people, guys 
mostly, felt obliged to make some comment. "Nice tits!" or "Look at her 
arse; I'd like a piece of that!" or "Give us a proper flash darling". I 
felt my cheeks glowing with the redness of my humiliation and 
embarrassment. It was even worse than before as this time guys were able 
to slap or pinch my bum as I passed and believe me they did. It seemed 
like an eternity but eventually we reached the office. 

I sat in the chair indicated by Ms Scott. We spent a few moments going 
over the events of the evening and discussing my options. We agreed that 
although it might prove tricky I needed to get back to Linzi's flat where 
my belongings and clothes were as it was much nearer than my flat and I 
did know where she kept her spare key. The helpful and efficient Ms Scott 
("Call me Annie") agreed to help me find a taxi and something to wear, 
although not in that order. 

Annie searched high and low. There was no lost property that was any use, 
just a few umbrellas and makeup bags. 

"Oddly enough we don't get many people losing dresses and skirts" remarked 
Annie without a hint of sarcasm, "if it had been winter there might have 
been a few coats." 

However, being summer no one was wearing coats for them to lose. There 
were no spare staff uniforms either. All the clothing her searching found 
was a cut-off tee-shirt, left over from a drink promotion a few months 
previously. It was clearly meant to be worn over something as it barely 
covered my boobs, but it was a start. I returned her waistcoat, guessing 
that she'd prefer me not to wrap it round my still exposed lower regions. 

The worst part of the search was the constant flow of staff into her 
office. Every single one of the apologized for interrupting, but every 
single one of the men made sure they got a good long look at me as I sat 
there, trying to cover as much as I could with just my handbag and the 
tiny tee-shirt. 

Annie seemed not to notice, dealing with their questions quickly and then 
continuing her search. Finally she locked me in while she went to search a 
store room, returning a few minutes later. 

"Have you ever worn a sarong?" was her greeting to me on her reply. My 
hopes soared. 

"You could wrap this tea-towel round you like a really short sarong. It's 
all I can find." 

My hopes plummeted. A tea-towel? Undaunted she produced a safety pin from 
her desk and made me try it out. 

It was a very small tea-towel and whilst it could be pinned at the waist, 
it lacked the material to wrap around like a sarong. In fact it barely met 
at all below the waist, leaving a great expanse of thigh uncovered! We 
both looked and the expression on Annie's face showed that she felt as 
unhappy as I did. I was glad to be covered up at last, even if I still had 
a bare midriff, bare legs, right up to my waist on one side don't forget, 
and a top that just covered my boobs. We agreed that it was the best we 
could do. She tried to ring a cab for me, but was told that, due to a 
thunderstorm outside, about which we had no idea, there were no cabs for 
several hours. I was desperate to get home so I told her I would get the 
tube. She seemed doubtful. 

"Are you sure you'll be ok, you've not got much on." 

I wasn't sure, but I lied. "I'll be fine; there are girls out there with 
as little on, at least I am covered up now and there are umbrellas in lost 
property!" 

Annie walked with me to the exit. This time, covered up somewhat, there 
were no comments, but plenty of guys still looked, undressing me with 
their eyes. Not that their eyes had much work to do. Outside it was 
pouring down. The tube station was only a few minutes away and I had an 
umbrella, but I still got pretty wet. My high heels made it dangerous to 
run in the wet and walking too quickly caused my tea-towel skirt to gape 
open even wider and my boobs to jiggle free from the tee-shirt, so I was 
only able to walk. By the time I reached the station my 'skirt' was 
clinging to me, tracing every curve. And I mean every curve. My tee-shirt 
was also a bit wet, just enough to cling to my boobs and show that the 
coldness of the air had made my nipples rather too perky for my liking. 

I was close to tears as I made my way through the entrance hall and got on 
the escalators down to the trains. The downpour had made the station busy 
and in the harsh light off the station I could feel everyone staring at 
me. I felt my lip begin to tremble, but I bit it and force myself onwards. 


'Let them stare', I told my self, 'I hope they enjoy the view, they're 
only looking because I look good.' I didn't really believe myself, but it 
helped a little. 

The two minute wait for the train seemed like two hours, but no-one said 
anything to me. When the train arrived the rush of air through the tunnel 
ahead of it caused my makeshift skirt to flap about. I'm sure the men on 
the bench behind me must have had an excellent view of my bum, but they 
said nothing. Perhaps they couldn't believe what they were seeing! The 
train was busy, which was a blessing and a curse. It was full enough so 
that no-one dared try anything too outrageous, but full enough for me have 
my bum touched, 'accidentally' by the guy behind me, several times, before 
I stepped hard on his foot with my high heels before turning round and 
saying sorry. He gave me no bother after that and my coolness in dealing 
with him made my confidence rise, especially as no I was facing him he 
could see my jiggling boobs. Every time he glanced I caught him and he 
looked away shamefaced. 

By the time I was taking the short walk to Linzi's flat I was ready to 
give her what for. Soaked to the skin, the tee-shirt virtually 
transparent, I lifted the flower pot to find the spare key, but as I did 
the door opened. 

"Miranda! Its you! Thank goodness!" she cried, hugging me and dragging me 
into the flat. "I've been so worried!" 

"Worried!" I exclaimed, "You left me naked in a nightclub in the middle of 
town!" 

"Only long enough to give James a piece of my mind." 

"You were gone ages." 

"It took longer than I realized, he was quite reluctant to let me go. He 
kept saying you had thrown yourself at him and I so wanted to believe him. 
In the end I came to my senses and went back to the loo to find you, but 
you'd gone." 

I could see how sincere she was so I calmed down a bit. Telling her the 
story, bits of it seemed almost funny, to her at least. 

"I was so worried cos I knew how much you hated it the last time" she 
said. 

"The last time?" I replied puzzled. 

"At the gym contest; I read your story on the internet and when I was 
really cross I remembered it. I wanted to pay you back and what better way 
than to leave you naked in public again. I could tell from your story how 
much you hated it." 

"You read my story?" 

"Yeah, there were enough clues in it for me to see at once it was you. I 
visit that site all the time." 

I was stunned. 

"Can you forgive me?" she asked. 

I nodded. "I can see I'll have to be more careful in future." 

So there you have it. My cathartic story of nakedness caused me to have to 
suffer again. Linzi insisted we put this story on the same site, just for 
a laugh, although it took many glasses of wine to persuade me. She reckons 
I should ask readers if they liked this story. 

Well did you? 

Miranda x