Hazing The Swim Team

[TheBlushingPrincess]

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[MissAriel]

A/N: Part 4 was meant to be the big finale, but it ended up being so long that you lucky readers are getting a whole extra chapter after this one. Good news for us, but bad news for Kelsi, I'm afraid. I sure am glad I'm not in her shoes. Also, please forgive my ridiculously cheesy pop culture references, I can't help myself.

Part 4

Naked? Nobody said anything about getting naked. Screw this, I’m out of here. I wouldn’t even let my high school boyfriend see me in my underwear. If you think I’m just going to walk up there and let those maniacal succubi strip my clothes off in front of the entire boys’ swim team, you've got another thing coming.

I turn towards the door, but my legs still don’t move. Instead, I reflect back on everything that I’ve been through. Those long summer months of heartfelt training... for three months, I went to the pool every single day and I’d work out until I hit my limit. I pushed myself harder than I had in any other sport, and no matter how much my legs or arms ached, I would think, no, Kelsi, you’re not finished yet. You can do more. I remember how I felt when the Captain said she was impressed, how she thought I had a real shot at varsity, the excitement of a possible scholarship that would free me from student loans, and that feeling of pure joy when she announced that Julie and I made the team. I look at Julie’s face with her beautiful locks of silk and remember that feeling of comradery when I made my first friend...

The old Kelsi, maybe, would have run out of here without a second thought, but that’s not me anymore. I’m not that shy little girl who ran away from my friends and hid in the parking lot just because I was too embarrassed for anyone to see me in a swimsuit. I’ve faced my fears and I’ve worked too hard to give up now. I’m not a quitter. My name is Kelsi and I’m not going to run away anymore.

With new resolve, I walk up to the makeshift podium the girls’ swim team created for the banana contest. Strip me of my clothes and tickle me if you must, but you can’t intimidate me into giving up my dreams. I'm not afraid.

But when I actually step up on to the podium and remember the entire boys’ swim team is watching, my legs quiver. Oh. My. God. The reality of the situation dawns on me. The entire boys’ swim team is about to see me stripped down to my birthday suit and the senior girls are going to tickle me until I’m reduced to a whimpering mess. I can see myself pleading and bartering to give them anything they want in exchange for the slightest hint of mercy. Even in my imagination, my legs feel weak. I don’t want to do this, though the strange sensations in my lower body tell a slightly different story.

All that bravado about my name is Kelsi and I’m not running away anymore? Yeah, screw that. This was a terrible idea. Kelsi, what were you thinking? If you were even thinking at all! You're about to be stripped in front of the entire boys' swimming team.

They're going to see you naked, Kelsi. NAKED!

My daydreaming comes to an end as I notice everyone is staring at me. They’re waiting for me to take my clothes off.

“Move it along, freshman,” barks the Captain. “I need to get home in time for Passions. Timmy is stuck down the well, and if you make me miss it...”

...

I’m on the cusp of my most treasured assets being revealed to a group of 20 something strangers, most of which are incredibly cute guys wearing next-to-nothing, the most humiliating moment of my entire life, and she’s worried about missing her soap opera? You can’t make this shit up.

Despite how much I want to join the swim team, I can’t move myself to take off my clothes while everyone is staring at me. In my moment of inner turmoil, it's Stacy that breaks from the group.

Stacy whispers in my ear, “Need some help?”

I nod and she gives me a sympathetic nod. Her voice is smooth, melodic, and calming, and she continues to whisper in my ear.

“I was in your shoes once. It’ll be okay. Just try to have fun with it,” Stacy says.

Speaking of shoes, she gently unties my sneakers and slips them off. As weird as it sounds, her words and gentle touch have a relaxing effect, and my tense muscles start to loosen. I feel Stacy’s soft hands lift my arms and the cool air touches my skin as she lifts my shirt. I am a knightess about to lose her armor. My cream-colored brassiere and modest cleavage are unveiled to the boys’ feasting eyes.

The tranquil silence breaks and a cacophony of cheering begins. Even the girls join in and I hear wolf whistles and cat calls, the excitement in their voices un-ignorable, their joy contagious. I, too, almost want to join in and cheer, but I blush at my own caprice. Am I enjoying this, I wonder? No, no, no! This is literally the worst thing that’s ever happened to me. I can’t believe this. They’re staring at me! Eeeeee, stop looking at my boobs! I quickly fold my arms over my chest in embarrassment.

“Hand it over, bro! I told you she was a C!”

“No way, bro, she could totally be a B.”

The Captain speaks up.

“Can you clear that up for them, Kelsi?” the Captain asks.

Oh. My. God. Is she really going to make me do this? Forced to tell them my own cup size while being stripped and humiliated? I once again feel the conflict within myself as strange sensations radiate from my lower abdomen. I hate this, but also, it’s... kind of hot? What am I thinking? I don’t know what I’m thinking, but I get the feeling I’d better hurry up and answer. I just imagine how mad the Captain will be if she misses her soap. My imagination gets the better of me and I think about all sorts of humiliating things that I’m not brave enough to expand on here. In my mind’s eye, I hear the Captain auctioning off the right to examine my bra and experience the humiliation of the boys reading off my exact size from the label. No, that sounds horrible!

“I’m a C-cup!” I cry out.

There is an eruption of cheers from the jury.

“That’s $5. Hand it over, Johnny.”

“Must have left my wallet in my other pants," Johnny says with an awkward laugh.

The senior girls' giggles echo through the locker room as Johnny’s attention returns to my chest.

“They’re even bigger than I thought they’d be. Bro, I would love to be her banana,” Johnny continues.

“I feel you, bro, I feel you. Hey guys, let’s give a big cheer for Kelsi!”

I hear them chanting my name. Kelsi, Kelsi, Kelsi! If it weren’t for the fact that I’m practically a manikin on display in the middle of a crowded mall, I might actually enjoy the attention.

The Captain clears her throat and the boys shut up immediately. She looks directly at Stacy and points at the clock. It now says 8:30 p.m.

“We’re on a deadline here. Are you helping Kelsi or volunteering for an encore performance?” the Captain asks.

Without skipping a beat, I feel Stacy’s nimble fingers unbutton my shorts and slide them down my legs, revealing my small, hipster-style panties. They’re bright white with lots of cute little red hearts on them. Why, I think, did I wear this underwear tonight? Well, Kelsi, you couldn’t have exactly predicted that you’d be showing them off to the boys’ swim team. But also, are you really so naive? Maybe the next time someone invites you to an initiation, you might consider wearing some grown-up clothes?

“Oh my gosh,” Stacy yelps. “They’re so cute!”

My humiliation is complete. Don’t look, Sean. I close my eyes, almost believing that if I can't see, this isn’t really happening, and the girls aren’t giggling at my child-like heart panties. I hear lots of words being thrown out like adorable and precious. Don’t look at me! I blush, now acutely aware of every article of clothing both on, and not on, my body, as I stand here in only my bra, panties, and pink ankle socks.

When the team finally gets bored talking about my panties, I start to hear more pointed comments about my body, about how toned and sexy my slender legs are, how my tummy is so flat with just a tiny bit of roundness. Where I was once proud of the swimmer body that I meticulously sculpted in my summer workouts, it is now the instrument of my humiliation. The entire swim team has an unconstrained, unimpeded view of every slope and crevice on my body, and I can do nothing to hide it from them. I can feel the blood rushing to my face as I blush from the sheer audacity of the jury’s impetuous commentary.

Again, the Captain points at the clock. 8:32pm. Has it really only been two minutes? It feels like I’ve been standing here for hours, but time has a way of slowing down when you’re the only one in your underwear. Stacy wastes no time using her nimble fingers to unhook my bra with the precision of a seamstress. Too proud to show weakness, I say nothing, but inside, I cry out no. My armor, the last thing standing between the audience and my everything, my most sacred jewels that no boy has ever laid his lucky eyes upon. And now, to my misfortune, they’re no sacred jewels at all, but rather a grapefruit special on sale at Walmart that any random passerby could descry and discern.

The locker room erupts with clamor and applause. There are hurrahs and shouting, an inspirational rally in response to my debut. It's almost as if the guys were attending a pep rally rather than witnessing my ultimate humiliation. I have no trouble believing they’re all having the best night of their entire lives. If I’m being honest, I feel a tinge of pride that I excite them so, but that doesn’t stop me immediately folding my arms and guarding my chest. It’s a pointless gesture, because I know in only moments, my arms will be tied to the ceiling, but at least in this moment, I still have a sliver of control.

“They’re so pink, bro! I told you,” one guy says.

I let out a shriek of embarrassment as I realize this dirty boy can still see my nipples. I look down and quickly adjust my arms, making sure that I cover every pixel-like centimeter of my breast as best I can.

I see two of the guys give each other a high five. The ridiculous way they talk and their flagrant use of words like bro and dude reminds me of Keanu Reeves in Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure, which only amplifies my mortification. I silently curse them, knowing that I’ll never again be able to travel with Keanu on his most excellent adventure through time.

“You did, bro, you totally did! This is even better than I imagined.”

“Look how ROUND they are, dude. Awesome!”

“Bro, my dick is harder than it was when she ate that banana.”

My heart skips a beat. I’ve been so laser focused on my current state of affairs that I hadn’t noticed that THE ENTIRE BOYS' SWIM TEAM HAS A FUCKING BONER! I can actually see their arousal through the thin, pliable material of their speedos. My eyes widen. Holy. Shit.

“Dude, look, she’s blushing! She’s so shy and it’s so hot. I’m so horny, I just want to rub one out, you know?”

“Me, too, bro!”

But before things can get any wilder, the Captain takes a stand and the cheering subsides. “Keep it in your pants, boys, unless you want to trade places with our star performer. I promise you, the ladies here don’t mind giving those bananas of yours a good waxing.”

Now, me personally, I think that sounds like an excellent idea, but to my dismay, it’s not happening. The boys give her a thumbs up and my fantasy of getting to tickle hot guys in speedos comes to an abrupt end. I look to the clock and it’s only 8:35. Barely a few minutes have passed. Is there something wrong with this fucking clock? I cannot believe this agonizing revelation has only lasted minutes instead of hours.

“Captain,” Stacy says with pause, “Can we keep her cute little panties on? I mean, just look at them.” Stacy twirls me around with a certain feminine grace, and everyone in the room gets a close look at my backside. “See the nice shape they give her cute little butt?”

“I’ll allow it,” booms the Captain, ignoring the boos and jeers from the jury as they let their disapproval be known. “Can it, boys. I agree with Stacy. They’re cute.”

You have to admire how much the swim team respects her. From the moment I met the Captain, there hasn’t been a moment where she wasn’t in complete control. No one does anything without her approval.

My mind is split in two. On the one hand, thanks, Stacy, for saving my flower. Seriously. She singlehandedly saved me from total exposure. But on the other, there is something patronizing about being allowed to keep my panties just because they’re ‘cute’. Urgh, it makes me so mad! It’s not like I would ever wear panties with hearts all over them on a date that I thought might go somewhere. I have plenty of sexy lingerie. But for some stupid reason, I chose to wear the comfy, cute underwear, and now everyone is going to think this is what I wear all the time. I almost want to shout at them, I have lots of sexy underwear, you judgmental idiots! But my more rational side decides against listing out the contents of my underwear drawer to my tormentors. Maybe it’s not the best idea to give them even more ammunition to embarrass me with.

“All right, Stacy, can you please go get the bar?”

Stacy is like the Captain’s second-in-command; the one she can count on to get the job done. And I can’t deny that Stacy has a way of getting what she wants. When she was stripping me, her voice was so soothing and calming, I almost wanted to thank her for being so kind as to undress me. I blush at the ridiculousness of the thought.

I see Sean holding a bar with rope tied to it in the most peculiar pattern and he hands it to Stacy. Another one of the boys puts his head between Stacy’s legs and it’s exactly as dirty as you’re imagining. Whoosh, up she goes with a giggle onto his broad shoulders, and Stacy begins tying the rope to a fixture on the ceiling. The reason for the strange rope pattern becomes clear when Stacy effortlessly spins the bar and it goes round and round. This is the true purpose of its Machiavellian design: to ensure that I could be tickled from any angle. No crevice of my body would be safe from the swim teams’ prying eyes. Redness rushes to my face once again, but this time, I’m unsure if it’s from embarrassment or anger.

All I know is this is downright unfair. They never said anything about being naked when they started this stupid banana contest. I thought it was a stupid idea, but I was a good sport and participated anyway for the sake of team bonding. And despite having literally the best performance in the contest, they stripped me of my win on a fucking technicality. The game is rigged! No fair!

Stacy raises my arms and ties each of my hands to a separate side of the bar. It’s tight enough to hold, but not so much that it causes pain or discomfort. My feet remain comfortable on the floor and I’m thankful for small blessings. It could be worse, Kelsi. Remember that time Sophia showed you that girl suspended in bondage and you freaked out? Yeah, that could be you right now. This isn’t so bad, right?

No, no, no, this is definitely that bad. My breasts are completely exposed and the boys are salivating. I think back to when I had to tell them I’m a C cup, when they excitedly pointed out how my tits were rounder than they expected, when that filthy boy said my nipples are so pink. Only now their view is unimpeded by the protection of my arms, their view of my breast no longer merely a silhouette but a vivid painting everlasting in their memories. I relive the moments of my humiliation and feel both utter shame and unfamiliar ecstasy. I'm flush from the embarrassment of the recollection, but my body betrays me with a longing for paradisal release.

I close my eyes as Stacy finishes her work. My mind wanders and I find myself thinking about the most deplorable acts. I lose myself in my thoughts. I think about Sean touching my skin and a river of pleasure flows into me, but my pretty thoughts are short-lived as I'm rudely awakened by the sound of argument. I’m brought back to the reality of my circumstance.

“No, I want to tickle her first,” says one of the senior girls.

They’re fighting over who gets to tickle me. Are you kidding me?

“Now, now,” the Captain says, gently pacifying her minions. “Surely you can resolve this in a more civilized manner.”

“Rock, paper, scissors?” the girl says.

I proceed to, I kid you fucking not, watch the senior girls play several rounds of the school-yard game they call rock paper scissors. I cannot believe that they are playing this stupid game to decide who gets to fucking tickle me. Un-freaking-believable. My fate is actually being decided by an arbitrary game of chance.

“Aww, don’t look so glum,” the senior girl says cheerfully to Stacy and the two remaining dejected-looking ladies. “You’ll get your turn. We’ll leave some scraps, I promise!”

I hear incessant giggling and my mortification intensifies. I look now to the boys and I notice the texture of their speedos. They’re all rock hard. Disgusting, but also, wow... I can hardly believe their speedos can actually hold back so much mass. Spandex is truly magical.

Stacy moves back to the Captain’s side as the three fully dressed senior girls approach me with a psychotic gleam in their eyes. So it begins, I think, so it begins.

“Where are you most ticklish, darling?” the senior girl asks me.

Here is some life advice. When a psychotic tickling maniac asks you where you’re ticklish, you lie. You give the most convincing lie you can muster and say it with a straight face. You should, under no circumstances, answer their question honestly.

“Um, under my arms,” I say, yet it sounds more like a question than a statement. So much for telling it with a straight face.

I can feel dozens of soft, tiny fingers dig into the sensitive skin of my underarms and my voice breaks into laughter. For the first time tonight, it is not the laughter and cheers of the hot, speedo-clad boys, or the booming voice of the Captain, or the twisted giggling of the girls, but my own voice that fills and echoes throughout the locker room. I give out a wild howl as I involuntarily make the most humiliating noises. I am so ticklish, this is unbearable.

But I persevere. I dare not ask them to stop, not now. To give up now, after being stripped and presented on a makeshift stage, after my arms were tied to the ceiling, and somehow not join the team? After all that? It’s unthinkable. I must endure it. I am stoic.

“Ha, ha, ha, oh, my, gosh, ha, ha, please, guys, it, tickles, ha, ha, so, much,” I can barely speak, my laughter interrupting every word I attempt to enunciate.

When you’re being tickle tortured, you only speak in vowels. I try to twist and protect my vulnerable armpits from the claw-like grip of these harpies to no avail. I cackle and howl, but they do not relent.

“Girls, I think she was lying. Do you think she was lying?” the ringleader asks.

“Those don’t sound like the squeals of a girl being tickled in her most vulnerable spot to me,” another senior girl answers.

“The truth, Kelsi. We’re not leaving until you do,” the ringleader says. She whispers in my ear, “Think carefully about your next words. Passions starts in half an hour.”

Unbelievable. I hope Timmy drowns in that stupid well.

Out of a sense of self preservation, I decide to go with a lie that, while humiliating, I think they might believe.

“My nipples,” I say as I hang my head in shame.

I can’t believe I’m going to let them touch and tickle my nipples. I’ve never even let anyone look at my breasts, much less touch them, and here I am letting these girls skip straight on over to third base. Unfortunately, it’s the most believable lie I can think of on the fly without betraying my most vulnerable secret.

It begins again. I feel their soft fingers brush against my breast. My treacherous body fills with a brief delight moments before I break down into a roar of uncontrollable laughter. Oh, my, God, I think. I glance at the jury, who are no doubt enjoying the show, but imagine my shock to once again find myself pierced by Sean’s gaze. He looks directly into my eyes and time stops completely. I see myself through his eyes, a young, busty swimmer stripped down to her heart-filled panties, arms tied to the ceiling, breasts jiggling rhythmically in the air, being tickled mercilessly by a trio of demonic succubi, the ecstasy of my defeat served to him with pleasure. He must be reveling in my humiliation.

Yet his eyes do not show that gleam of darkness, of superiority and conceit. No, his gaze is of adoration and kindness, it shows a kind of admiration. The word appreciation fills my mind’s eye. For the first time, I find myself conflicted and confused about my feelings towards Sean.

But my connection with Sean breaks as the girls twist me around and I find myself facing away from the jury. The ringleader girl holds my chin with her fingers ever so delicately.

“Kelsi, we all want to go home at some point. Your tickle spot, please,” she says serenely.

I say nothing, paralyzed by the fear of them discovering my most deeply held secret.

“Maybe it’s your inner thigh?” she asks.

She runs her fingers across my inner thigh and I squirm, letting out a guffaw of laughter.

“That’s not it. Maybe something embarrassing, like your little booty?” she continues.

She lightly runs her fingers along the crease between my thigh and butt and I flush crimson.

“Hmm, that’s not it, either. Where could it be?” she says gingerly, lightly running her fingers across my body.

It’s only for a sliver of a moment, but I briefly glance down at my socks. My blood runs cold as the nameless siren bursts out into the biggest smile.

She knows.

“Oh, it’s so obvious. I really am a dumb blonde, aren’t I? Your most ticklish spot is your feet. Of course it is," the ringleader giggles.

“No, it’s not,” I protest. “It’s my ribcage. I’m ticklish on my ribcage.”

But it’s too late. No one entertains my obvious lie. I feel my legs lift up into an L-shape and they gently remove my tiny pink ankle socks. In what feels like a flash, the senior ladies turn me back around towards the jury and I feel my butt slide across a bench, my body forced into a seated position. My nightmare is now realized and I silently pray for mercy. Please, anywhere but my feet.

Almost as if my prayers are answered, I hear the Captain’s booming voice. “Time’s up, ladies. Give your teammates a turn.”

I can see Stacy jump up with glee as she and two other senior girls skip towards me. Oh no. No, no, no, no, no. This isn’t happening. But unfortunately, my thoughts are powerless to stop the trio of foxy vixens gleefully approaching and eyeing my helpless extremities.

“Please don’t tickle my feet,” I cry out.

[coolcurt86]

hot

[TheBlushingPrincess]

.

[MissAriel]

A/N: This is the big conclusion. There could be a sequel someday maybe. But for now, Kelsi's adventure has come to an end. I can only describe being tickled in so many ways before the thesaurus starts charging me rent, so I think it's time to give our heroine a much needed break. Plus, I'm honestly scared of what Kelsi or one of her friend's might do to Jennifer if I draw it out any further. Thanks for reading, friends.

Part 5

I plead in vain as Stacy gleefully begins to rub her fingers down the soles of my feet.

“Nooooo!” I shout fruitlessly into the void that is her conscience.

The tickling sensation is immediate and lightning strikes my lower half. I feel a familiar warmth, but it quickly eludes me as the more pertinent matter at hand comes to my attention. I let out the most hideous shrieks I’ve ever had the displeasure of hearing myself bellow, and there is no doubt amongst either the men’s or the women’s swim teams that they have, indeed, found my most ticklish spot.

“Oh, wow,” Stacy says with serenity. “This must really tickle, Kelsi.”

“No, ha, ha, shit, ha, Stay, ha, Cee,” I reply, my spunky and defiant attitude coming out.

But my bravado is empty, the gesture meaningless, as I continue to make the most humiliating sounds. I squirm and I writhe as my body shakes. I feel my breasts violently jiggle, my skin rippling as my ass cheeks continue to bounce. I helplessly try to pull back against my captors to no avail and my nipples continue to harden ever sharper.

I have no secrets left to hide. I am utterly defeated. The boys are free to gaze upon my body with delight, their every fantasy fulfilled, the secrets of my body no longer closed to their imaginations, but presented freely as exhibition.

“Holy shit, bro, look at the way her boobs bounce!”

“Wicked!”

“It’s, ha, ha, too much! Ha, ha, ha, please, ha, ha, stop,” I beg.

To my surprise, the tickling stops. The parade of cheering ends and the proceedings come to a halt. Silence.

I stare into Stacy's friendly eyes, her beautiful, angel-like face calming my torrent of rage and despair. Her siren-like voice whispers in my ear.

“You okay, sweetie? Just say the word and I’ll take care of you. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

I must admit, my first impression of Stacy was that she's a kind of ditzy blonde, a klutz whose main purpose on the team was to do the Captain’s bidding, but I believe now that I was too quick to judge. She's a sweetheart. Her heartfelt concern for my well-being touches me. When I said stop, she stopped. She checked to see if I was okay.

But I don't have time to bask in Stacy's sympathy right now. I remember my circumstance. With the proceedings halted, I realize that I have a choice. I can leave if I want to. All of my friends from school would expect me to. Sophia, no doubt, would say, that’s exactly what Kelsi did. They turned up the heat, tickled her feet, and Kelsi ran out white as a sheet.

Sophia’s not stupid. She knows how much I hate tickling. She knows I would do anything, say anything to escape it. She knows that when Stacy says I don’t have to do this anymore, the next thing I'm go to say say is, yes, please, I’m ready to go home.

And on any other day, she’d be right.

“No,” I say, surprised at the sound of my own voice as I hear my repulsive words enter into the pregnant air. “I want to be on the team.”

I see Stacy give me a grin, a genuine smile, a smile that you can only truly appreciate by seeing it in her eyes. When she looks at me, it's not with an air of superiority, but rather admiration. Stacy is proud of my resolve.

“But maybe you could stop tickling my feet?” I ask hopefully. Can't hurt to ask, right?

Stacy gives me a warm, consoling grin. “Sorry, sweetie, it’s all or nothing.”

I give a hesitant nod. The two senior girls to Stacy’s side hold down my legs and I’m now powerless to kick or halt Stacy’s advances. Stacy’s soft, angel-like and yet demonically evil fingers dig in once more into my incredibly sensitive feet.

“Waaaah,” I shriek, “Wah, ha, ha, oh, God, it, tickles, ha, so, wah, ha, ha, much!” I cry out.

Unable to move anything except my torso, I twist and turn, shriek and howl. The torture of Stacy’s dainty fingers grazing the soles of my feet envelops my consciousness. I feel my breasts bounce and jiggle and my poor nipples ache with a double-sided pleasure.

The clamorous cheers of the jury once more fill the room.

“Woohoo! Go Kelsi!”

Again, the guys chant my name. Kelsi, Kelsi, Kelsi! My performance as a shy, reluctant ticklee is clearly driving them wild, but to me, it’s no performance, it is no act. I am unbelievably, incontrovertibly, without a shadow of a doubt, really fucking ticklish, and I cannot believe I voluntarily agreed to let this happen.

But it’s too much. I thrash and I squirm, my body involuntarily jiggling in a humiliating and titillating fashion to the boys’ delight. No matter how much I pull my feet away, I’m unable to escape Stacy’s angel-like claws. I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to give up, I want to be a part of the team, but I also can’t take much more of this. I’m reaching my limits. Trepidation creeps up on me like a slimy, slithering snake. Goosebumps crawl on my skin as I realize I’m reaching the end of the line. It’s too much. If this goes on much longer, I’m going to break.

In a moment of acute horror, my survival instincts kick in, and without even thinking about the consequences, I blurt out, “You can take my panties off if you stop tickling my feet!”

Dead silence. The entire room is stunned by my outburst.

But it does not take long for the jury to lend their approval. Great idea, Kelsi. Bro, do you think the carpets match the drapes? I always wanted to see that bubble butt in its full glory.

I thought I had no secrets left to reveal, but how wrong I was, as the consequences of my thoughtless outburst come back to haunt me. The bench is removed from underneath me and my legs gently fall to the ground. My feet touch the cold concrete of the locker room for the first time and I shiver. I feel the frigid, icy air, the consequence of my nudity, yet also the blistering heat of ecstasy, my body drenched in sweat.

I feel Stacy’s soft fingers hook into the sides of my panties, and inside, I cry, please no, not my panties. Where once I looked at them in disdain, my child-like underwear printed with hearts, I now feel apologetic, their incredibly important job of preserving my flower, my dignity, coming to the forefront. No, I think, please don’t leave me. But my internal begging is in vain as my panties slide slowly down my legs, revealing my precious flower, a trimmed landing strip, but otherwise completely smooth.

“I knew it, bro, I knew it! She totally is a natural blonde!”

“Woohoo, Kelsi, I love you!” a random guy with a huge boner shouts out.

I blush. I am mortified, both by the loss of my panties, that the boys’ swim team has discovered that I am, in fact, a true blonde, and by this filthy boy’s proclamation of love with his absolutely ridiculous speedo-contained banana-like fucking boner.

“Turn her around, turn her around,” the jury cheers, and I feel Stacy’s graceful arms turning me to the other side.

“Bro, that ass, am I right?”

“Dude, I think this is, like, the best night of my entire life.”

“Bro, this is, like, the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen.”

My face burns with fire. How dare they, I think, but I’m powerless. My arms are bound to the ceiling and my last sliver of dignity has been stripped away. My only consolation is that this could not get any worse.

“Well, time to get back to tickling,” Stacy whispers in my ear and my heart skips a beat.

Fuck. No, no, no, no. It’s not over? I gave up my panties. Come. On. They saw my fucking pussy! They ogled at my ass! You’re telling me that’s not enough!?

Dozens of fingers dig into the deepest recesses of my body. Nothing is sacred. My underarms, my breasts, my ribcage, my thighs, my butt, nothing is off limits to these girls... nothing except my feet, which in a moment of desperation, I traded my panties to protect. I squirm and thrash with a relentless force that Stacy and her partners in crime had not seen before, but it only invigorates them to tickle me harder. My butt facing the boys’ swim team, I feel its every jiggle, ripple, and bounce as my body involuntarily shakes. The guys love it and they are not shy to let me know.

“Woohoo, Kelsi, shake that booty!”

“Bro, I didn’t even know it could bounce like that.”

I squeak and squirm, I twist and thrash, I howl and cackle as my laughter echoes through the room, but I am powerless to do anything except surrender to Stacy’s vixen-like teasing. Internally, I beg for it to end, but it doesn’t. I’m not even sure I want it end as my nether regions ignite, but no, I don’t want this, who would ever want this, I think, as my inner conflict comes to a head.

I’m turned around again and again, as the jury can’t seem to decide if they prefer to see my bouncing breasts or my jiggling ass as Stacy and her friends teach me new definitions of what it means to suffer, their fingers delightfully glazing my sensitive skin all over my body. Suffering? You love this, Kelsi. My confession makes me crimson with shame and I don’t think I’ll ever live this down. But I don’t have long to contemplate the future, as the sounds of the boys cheering and my own laughter interrupt my every thought.

Even worse, Sean does not relent, he does not give me an inch of peace, his eyes glued to mine at every opportunity.

Note to self. Transfer. Out. Of. That. Class.

I screech and squirm for what feels like forever, my eyes closed, unable to face my peers as I involuntarily stand here, my body completely exposed, my curves bouncing and jiggling, their sole purpose of existence now the entertainment of my future teammates. I can't believe I'm naked and being tickled in front of the entire boys' swim team. How could I let this happen?

They can see everything: my ample bosom and cutely-shaped pink nipples, my toned and curvaceous bubbly butt, my freshly waxed pussy and the little strip of blonde hair right above that covers nothing of importance; all things that were, at one time, so sanctified as to only be beheld by my own eyes. I've never been so humiliated, so exposed, so powerless, all the while unable to think for more than a few moments at a time as I screech in laughter and succumb to the loud cheers of my new personal fan club.

...

When the tickling session finally comes to an end, I'm out of breath. I'm not sure if it's actually over or if they're just taking a break, but I pray it's the former.

“That’s enough, ladies. Let her down. I’ve got to go. Take care of her, will you?” the Captain requests.

Ironically, it is none other than Stacy, my latest tormentor, that comes to my rescue and begins to release me from my bondage. I must have been tickled for hours. But hours it has not been, as I read the clock and it says it's only 8:50 p.m.

The Captain abruptly leaves the locker room, and I can only guess it has something to do with her soap. I’m left in Stacy’s capable hands. My arms feel weightless as they come down to my side. I do not even bother trying to cover myself despite finally being able to freely move my limbs, partially because of pure exhaustion, and partially because every person in this room been staring at my naked body for so long that such a gesture now feels utterly pointless.

At least it's finally over. I can relax.

Or not. Oh no. I see Julie and Isabella rushing towards me. They’ve come to make fun of me for my humiliating ordeal. Please, haven't I been through enough?

Huh? They're bringing me my clothes?

I'm surprised to see no cruelty in their eyes, but rather cheer and beaming smiles. Instead of laughing at me in my dazed state of confusion, they've come to help me get dressed.

“Holy shit, Kelsi, you’ve got more balls than the entire boys’ swim team put together. I can’t believe you went through with that,” Isabella says, beaming at me. “Girl, seriously, I’m impressed. I’m sorry for being a bitch earlier. Friends?”

I give her a hazy nod and return a smile.

“Friends,” I say.

“You did it, Kelsi!” Julie cheers and almost knocks me off my feet when she hugs me. “That was so brave. I don’t think I could have done it. Hearing the boys swim team talk about my body in such a filthy way? No, I couldn’t. Girl, you might be the strongest person I’ve ever met.”

I embrace Julie. The warmth of her friendship spreads through my entire body.

Despite my misgivings about the Captain’s ‘team bonding exercise’, I must admit, there have been some positives. Through the trauma of our initiation and the most difficult trial I’ve ever faced, I think I now have a lifetime bond with Isabella and Julie. I have everything I ever wanted when I came to UofT: good friends, a team that believes in me, and an absolutely ridiculous story about a sexy banana eating contest. I’m going to be all right.

As a bonus, I’ve made an important step in overcoming my body shyness. I think I might even be able to change in the locker room without feeling embarrassed or nervous now. Showering in a public stall? Hell no. One step at a time, okay?

With my hour-long initiation finally over, Julie and I make our way towards the exit. On my way out, I notice Isabella chatting up a feisty looking Stacy in the corner of my eye.

“If you were impressed by the banana, wait until you see what I can do with a peach.”

*Epilogue – One Day Later – English Class*

“Hey, Kelsi,” Sean says. “Glad to see you. I didn’t uh, get a chance to talk to you after the, uh, thing, but I just wanted to say, like, you know...”

I almost don’t recognize him with all his clothes on. He’s really awkward. He’s not exactly prince charming when it comes to talking to girls. But he doesn’t need to be. If you’d seen what he looks like in a speedo, you’d understand.

“You know...?” I reply quizzically.

I’m trying to act cool, but I’m totally not. I’m sweating bullets. My crush is talking to me and he’s the nervous one? Sophia will never believe this.

“That I like, you know, I think you’re cool. I thought your whole thing the other day was like, really far out and brave, you know? What I’m trying to say is, like, do you want to hang out?” Sean asks.

I smile and whisper in his ear the most banger line I can think of on the fly.

“I need to pick up some bananas. Want to come?”

[TheBlushingPrincess]

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[coolcurt86]

This story is so amazing! Wow!

I have to admit, I do envision the next events in my mind (although they don't need to be written into a story).

I think that at some point a few weeks or months later, she's gathers the guys' swim team. Just her and all of them. And she says something like, "Okay, boys. You had your fun. You got to watch me strip naked and get tickled. And I KNOW you've all been jerking off to it ever since. Don't lie about it. Right?" And they all sheepishly nod their heads. "Plus, you've been casually teasing me about it for months, making banana jokes and asking if I'm wearing my heart panties. Not to mention the leering. Don't think I haven't picked up on it. You guys aren't exactly subtle. So today's payback. You are going to line up in front of me. And then each and every one of you is going to strip for me. Completely naked. Everything. You're going to spin around, showing me every angle. And then you're going to get down on your knees and apologize for teasing me so much. Then after that, MAYBE we'll be even."

The guys all nod and say, "Yes, Kelsie. Whatever you say." And the show begins. (Then of course, Kelsie goes home and squirms into the bed all afternoon!)

this is a fucking hot idea maybe some of the guys from some of your other stories just happen to be on the swim team too

[superevil7]

MissAriel, you've really outdone yourself with this one! What an amazing story! The way you were able to get into Kelsi's head, and describe in every detail all of her thoughts and feelings as she goes through each embarrassment one after the other. From the banana, to her losing the contest, to her being tied up and stripped, to the tickling, and her feet, to losing her panties! Top, #1, greatest ENF story of all time in my book!!!!!

[TheBlushingPrincess]

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