Andy's Embarrassing Over-the-Knee Spanking

[Blondie]

Chapter 2: The Stripping

I didn’t get a great night’s sleep—I was way too excited for that—but I woke up surprisingly energized. The thought of Andy finally getting his much-deserved comeuppance had consumed my mind ever since Mia walked out the door the night before.

But before I get to that I have to tell you about a fun little exchange I had with Andy, who of course was oblivious to the shitstorm that awaited him that day.

I was sitting at the kitchen table, eating a muffin, when Andy—who had already finished his breakfast—was gathering his things for school.

"Hey, Andy, since you’re up, could you hand me a napkin?" I asked.

He barely spared me a glance. "Do I look like your servant? You have two legs—get it yourself."

Ah, classic Andy.

"Tell me," I said, pausing to take another bite of my muffin. "Do you ever feel guilty about being such a jerk?" No response. "You know, someday you're going to regret being so mean to me all these years."

"Yeah, whatever," he muttered as he slung his backpack over his shoulder. "I’m outta here."

As he turned to leave, I couldn’t resist one last jab. "Beware of the back scratcher," I said.

He shot me a confused look before shaking his head and walking out. I smiled to myself as I finished my muffin.

Oh, Andy. If only you knew what was coming.

* * * * * *

Mia’s smiling face greeted me just outside the schoolyard. "Are you ready for this?" she asked.

"Oh, I’m ready," I said. "A little nervous, but totally ready."

"You got this," Mia assured me. "I feel really good about it."

I filled her in on my little exchange with Andy that morning. Perfect timing, because just then, we heard footsteps approaching fast behind us. Andy was approaching, walking at a brisk pace. As he passed, Mia, without missing a beat, called out, "Beware of the back scratcher."

We both burst into laughter. Andy just glanced back, shaking his head, clearly clueless about what was in store for him.

Later, as we settled into class, Mia upped the ante. She reached into her bag, pulled out the back scratcher, and held it up for Andy to see. She lowered her voice and spoke in the most ominous tone she could muster up.

"Andy... beware... of... the back scratcher."

Again the two of us broke into giggles, while Andy was probably thinking we were just a couple of airheads.

If so, his impression of us was about to be completely transformed.

* * * * * *

Mia didn't waste any time putting our plan into action. It was exactly 9:54 a.m. when Miss Hanover turned her back to write something on the board. Mia tapped me on the shoulder with the back scratcher. I looked over, and she gave me a sharp nod. My heart started pounding.

"AAAGH! WHAT ARE YOU DOING, ANDY?!" I shrieked, yanking my skirt up my thighs in one swift motion. I spun around just as Mia pounced on a dumbfounded Andy.

"ANDY, STOP IT!" she cried, grabbing his arm and yanking it forward toward the back of my chair—back scratcher and all. It looked like she was wrestling him to take it away, but really, she was doing all the work.

The classroom erupted in chaos. Miss Hanover whirled around, eyes immediately locking onto my hiked-up skirt. I tried to shove it back down, but instead, it inched even higher, almost completely exposing my panties. Confused, I looked down and realized in horror that Mia, the little devil, had grabbed the hem of my skirt and was pulling it toward her. Somehow she had managed to have his hand, her hands, the backscratcher and my skirt down there all at the same time. It looked like a full-on tug-of-war happening between my thighs.

"ANDY, LET GO OF ANDREA’S SKIRT!" Mia shouted dramatically.

Andy yanked his hand away. Mia released her grip, and I finally managed to pull my skirt back down—face burning, heart hammering. Then, with perfect timing, Mia stood up, holding the back scratcher aloft like it was the smoking gun.

"ANDREW CUNNINGHAM, WHAT IN THE WORLD HAS GOTTEN INTO YOU?!" Miss Hanover roared, storming toward us.

Andy’s eyes went wide. "I—I didn't... I didn't do anything!" he stammered, still completely bewildered. "They—she—I don’t even know what happened!"

"I'll tell you what happened," Miss Hanover replied. She was now standing over my terror-stricken little brother. “You used that—” she glanced at the back scratcher in Mia’s hand—“that utensil to pull up your poor sister’s skirt!”

"No! I didn't! They... she did it!" he appealed while pointing at Mia.

He sounded truly desperate. Miss Hanover glanced at Mia, who was shaking her head at Andy.

"You're a naughty, naughty boy and you should be ashamed of yourself," said Mia. I had to catch myself, because I almost burst out laughing.

Miss Hanover turned back to Andy. "I know what I saw," she declared. She turned and put a hand on my shoulder. “Are you alright, dear?”

"I'll be okay eventually, Miss Hanover," I said, putting on my best performance of acting like I had been terribly wronged. "I can't believe he did that. That was horribly embarrassing."

"I'm so sorry you had to experience that," Miss Hanover consoled. "Rest assured, your brother will be dealt with accordingly."

"Thanks to that pervert Andy, everyone saw Andrea's panties!" Mia chimed in.

Mia and I sat primly at our desks, both doing our best to look offended rather than gleeful. It was a challenge.

Miss Hanover turned her attention to the stupefied Andy. "What you did to your sister was not only inappropriate, it was disgusting. I cannot allow such behavior to go unpunished."

Andy turned toward me, voice trembling. “I didn’t—”

"Enough!" Miss Hanover snapped. "I’m done listening to your pathetic excuses. I am going to make sure you never pull a stunt like that again."

A hush fell over the classroom. The other students were all staring, wide-eyed, eager to see what Miss Hanover would do.

Andy gulped. "W-what are you gonna do to me?"

Miss Hanover tilted her head, as if contemplating. "Something fitting. Something that ensures you understand the embarrassment you’ve caused your sister." She took him roughly by the bicep and marched him to the front of the classroom. "You're in big trouble, young man."

Mia and I snuck a triumphant glance at each other. I think I literally rubbed my hands together in anticipation. I almost felt sorry for Andy—but not quite.

Mia leaned in and whispered, "Oh my God, this is even better than I imagined."

I couldn't help but grin. Payback’s a bitch, Andy.

* * * * * *

"What do you have to say for yourself, Mr. Cunningham?" asked Miss Hanover gruffly. The two faced each other in the front center of the room, Andy’s back to the class. "And don't even think about denying what you did."

"I... I... I don't know what to say," said the completely flustered Andy.

"Well, you need to be punished for your despicable behavior." She paused for a bit while contemplating Andy's discipline. I was so hoping that whatever it was, that she would carry it out in front of us. "Bear in mind, one option is to get the police involved—and then, of course, your parents. A case can be made for a criminal offense for sexual misconduct."

She paused to let that sink in. Andy must have been shaking in his boots. I honestly didn’t want it to go that far, but seeing him squirm wasn’t the worst thing.

“Would you like me to do that?” she pressed. Andy shook his head vigorously. “The other option is for me to handle your punishment myself. Would you prefer that? Keep in mind, your punishment will fit the crime to teach you a good lesson.”

Punishment to fit the crime? What could that be? He lifted up my skirt—well, not really, but... is she going to make him wear a skirt? Or maybe something even more humiliating? Either way, this is shaping up beautifully.

After a moment, Andy nodded, slow and resigned. He had no clue what was coming, but he had to know it was better than getting the police—or our parents—involved. I'm pretty sure that Miss Hanover knew that, too.

"Very well, then. I will carry out your punishment. But I'm warning you: If you disobey me in any way, shape or form, then I will call your parents, and we will discuss the police matter. Is that clear?" Andy nodded. "Let me hear you. Is that clear?"

"Y-yes. It's clear. W-what are you going to do?" he asked, voice trembling.

"You let me worry about that," Miss Hanover replied.

She then slowly walked to her desk and sat down, leaving Andy standing there alone. For a couple of minutes, she just sat there, staring straight ahead and occasionally looking over at Andy, who was probably nervous as all get-out. As for me—and I'm assuming most everyone else—I was anxiously awaiting her next step.

She finally spoke. And it was a stunner.

"Andrea, would you mind coming up here and pulling Andrew's trousers down for me?"

An instant uproar broke out in the room—part shock, part gleeful delight from the students. We didn't know what to expect, but I don't think anyone anticipated that!

I was out of my seat like a jackrabbit. I glanced at Mia, both of us trading wicked grin. As for Andy—he probably wanted to disappear into the floor. Not only was he about to receive the humiliation of a lifetime, but it would be at the hands of his own sister, of all people.

He looked back at me coming up the aisle and started to move away. I'm not sure where he thought he was going.

"You stay right where you are, young man!" Miss Hanover barked. "You thought it was funny to expose your sister? Let's see how you like being exposed in front of everyone."

Andy was not about to defy the principal, and he remained in his tracks, facing the blackboard.

"Miss Hanover, please, I—"

"Quiet!" interrupted the principal. "You're not to speak unless spoken to, do you understand?"

Andy didn’t answer, and it seemed like I had free rein to do whatever I wanted with him. I stepped in front of him and couldn’t help but enjoy the look of utter misery on his face. Under different circumstances, I might’ve felt a little sorry for him, but honestly, it was quite the opposite. After everything I had put up with from him over the years, I was thoroughly enjoying his discomfort. And I was absolutely going to make the most of that moment.

I started to reach for his belt buckle, but I was momentarily interrupted by Miss Hanover. "Andrea, before you lower Andrew's trousers, you might want to remove his shirt. Our goal is to embarrass him, and we want to be sure everyone sees his underpants. The shirt tail could hide them.”

"Good idea, Miss Hanover," I said, unable to keep a smirk from spreading across my face.

And that will help prolong this wonderful moment for me. Oh, I can't believe this. I feel like I've died and gone to heaven!

I looked at Andy, grinning. He wouldn’t look at me, but that didn’t dampen my enjoyment—in fact, it only increased it. His reluctance to face me only underscored how much he hated the idea of me being involved, and it made it all the more delicious.

I reached for the top button of his shirt. The boys were all required to wear a white shirt, salt-and-pepper corduroys, and black shoes. Most of them wore short-sleeved shirts, but Andy preferred the long-sleeved ones. At that moment it struck me that, aside from his face and hands, I hadn’t seen Andy’s bare skin in ages. I wondered if he was self-conscious about his body. In fact, I was hoping so, because that would only add to his humiliation once I took off his shirt and pulled down his pants.

I noticed he was wearing a white undershirt, which, at the time, felt a bit disappointing.

"Shame on you, Andy," I said as I unbuttoned the first two buttons, my voice loud enough for everyone to hear. "Such a bad little boy you are," I continued, savoring the moment as I worked my way down. I pulled his shirt tail out of his pants to access the final button, and grinned

"Let’s get you out of this shirt, you naughty boy. Then I'm going to pull your pants down. I'm really looking forward to that. I imagine you're going to be pretty embarrassed, huh Andy? Because everyone will be staring at your little underpanties.” The giggles from the class only deepened the flush on Andy's cheeks.

I tugged one sleeve off his arm and pulled the material behind him. As I circled around him, I paused and leaned in close, whispering in his ear. "You should’ve been nicer to me, Andy," I said with satisfaction. Then I yanked off his other sleeve, effectively stripping him of his shirt.

"I’ll take that, Andrea," said Miss Hanover. I walked over to her desk, handing the shirt off, and as I returned to Andy, he made one last desperate attempt to salvage his situation.

"Miss Hanover," he pleaded. "Please, I didn’t... I mean, I’m sorry... I’m really sorry, and I promise I’ll never do anything like that again. Please, I promise!"

"Didn’t I tell you not to speak?" Miss Hanover replied coldly. "Naughty children should be seen and not heard." She glared at him for a moment before turning her attention to me. "Carry on, Andrea, dear. Let’s get those trousers down."

Smiling devilishly, I looked Andy up and down, like a hungry person admiring a meal before devouring it. I noticed his bare, slender arms—smooth, save for a faint bit of peach fuzz—and relished the sight. I surmised that he probably hadn't reached puberty yet. (I was a late bloomer, so it is probably in our genes.) I also surmised that he probably didn't want anyone to know that he was still prepubescent. I didn't really think that we would find out that day, but the notion made me smile wider.

"It’s time, naughty boy," I said as I reached for his belt. "Let’s get these down and have a look at those underpanties," I continued, taking my time and enjoying every second of the task.

When I unfastened his belt, I let it dangle loosely at his midsection.

There was so much about this experience that thrilled me, beyond the simple fact that I was playing a huge part in Andy’s monumental humiliation.

I loved the way he instinctively grabbed my wrist when I reached for his waistband, prompting Miss Hanover to order him to clasp his hands behind his head—and keep them there if he knew what was good for him.

I loved the small, involuntary flinch of his hips as I undid his button.

I loved how his hips twitched even more when I slowly and deliberately pulled down his zipper.

I loved the moment I first glimpsed the whiteness of his underpants. I knew he’d be wearing those tighty-whities. I’d often seen our mother folding them in the laundry room.

I loved knowing that the exposure of those tighty-whities would embarrass him more than any other type of underwear could, because of how utterly uncool they were.

I loved how his legs stiffened and his whole body tensed, as, while I was pulling down his zipper I pressed my hand forward and put my last three fingers inside his zipper, allowing my fingers to brush against his privates over his underpants.

I loved how he let out a slight (but perceptible) squeal when he felt my fingers brush against his privates.

I loved how he knew that I knew that he had felt my fingers brush against his privates.

I loved how he had his undershirt neatly tucked into his underpants. Maybe other boys did that too, but I doubted it. Andy has always been the fastidious type—a bit of a neat freak—so it didn't surprise me.

I loved that Andy having his undershirt tucked in allowed us to see the waist band of his tighty-whities.

I loved the noise coming from his classmates behind him. It started out as a light buzzing sound when I started pulling down his pants. It grew louder as more and more of his underpants came into view, then reached a crescendo when they were fully exposed. It was a combination of laughter and gasps of surprise. I think some of them still couldn't believe it was going to happen, and when it did, they let loose.

I loved that Andy hearing the boisterous reaction behind him undoubtedly added profoundly to his humiliation.

I loved getting down on one knee to ease his trousers down, and that I was at eye level with his tighty-whities.

I loved that there was a faint, yellowish stain at the front of his underpants, and knowing that he knew I was looking right at it.

I loved that there was a relatively small bump pushing out his underpants where the yellowish stain was. I didn't know quite what to expect, but I was pretty sure he wasn't well-endowed, and that assumption was clearly confirmed.

I loved that his underpants were about a size too small and on the tight side, leaving no doubt that what was causing the bump indeed was on the smaller side.

I loved that Andy knew I was staring at his little bump, and that he knew I was now aware that he had a small penis.

I loved that Miss Hanover also must have observed that Andy had a small penis, and that Andy was aware of that. And something told me that Miss Hanover was glad that Andy had a small penis.

I loved that there was still laughter going on behind Andy, and that it continued as I lowered his trousers.

I loved how Andy, in a desperate attempt to prevent the inevitable, squeezed his knees tightly together as I pulled his corduroys down his thighs. As if that was going to deter me! It required a little extra effort on my part, but in short order they were scrunched up at his ankles.

I loved how, once his pants were at his ankles, he anxiously shifted his weight from one foot to the other, causing his hips to sway back and forth.

I loved that his white, slender legs were bereft of hair, much like his arms.

I loved that the exposure of Andy's white, slender, hairless legs was compounding his humiliation.

I loved how when I stood up we made brief eye contact, and that his eyes expressed his utter humiliation.

I loved that he was blushing so much that I thought he could glow in the dark.

* * * * * *

I continued to look Andy over, relishing every second of him standing there, his face crimson, with his underwear fully exposed.

"Thank you, Andrea. You may return to your seat now," said Miss Hanover.

"You're welcome, Miss Hanover," I replied, my voice casual, though I couldn't hide my satisfaction. "It was my pleasure," I added as I shot Andy one last lingering look.

With a grin on my face, I strutted back to my desk. Before sitting down, I reached out to touch fingers with Mia, whose grin mirrored my own.

As I settled into my seat, Miss Hanover, now standing at the side of her desk, addressed Andy. "Andrew, come here, please."

It was almost impossible not to laugh watching Andy, pants at his ankles, shuffle forward awkwardly, hands remaining obediently on his head. Seriously, The sight was just too ridiculous.

Miss Hanover tapped the top of her desk. "Sit up here for me," she instructed. "You can take your hands down now."

I leaned forward, eager to see what she’d do next. She didn’t disappoint. With one hand, she lifted his leg and removed his black penny loafer with the other.

“Let’s get these shoes off,” she said calmly. “It’ll make it easier to remove your trousers.” She followed suit with the other shoe and set them beside each other on the floor.

"Please, Miss—" Andy started, but he was rebuffed by a stern look and an index finger in his face.

"Hold your legs out for me," Miss Hanover directed.

Andy reluctantly obeyed, straightening both legs. With a deliberate motion, she gripped the legs of his pants and slowly, almost teasingly, slid them down to his toes. After removing the pants entirely, she laid them on her desk behind Andy and began neatly folding them.

"You won't be needing these for a while," she said (to my delight!).

While she was doing this, Andy, whose expression was as wretched as you would expect, dropped his legs. "Keep them out," she reprimanded. "I still need to remove your socks."

She peeled off one white sock, then the other. “Just the underwear, nothing more,” she said.

She tucked his socks into his shoes, then sat at her desk, eying Andy with an almost satisfied smile.

"You may return to your desk now, Mr. Cunningham. You're to remain in your underwear the rest of the school day."

Oh my God! It's not even 10:15 yet! Oh, this is too good to be true!

As Andy walked down the aisle, the room was filled with stifled laughter and whispered comments. Knowing that everyone was gaping at him—and probably knowing that most of them were enjoying the moment—he walked briskly, with his eyes to the floor. His face was, of course, red as can be, and he had both hands firmly clasped over the front of his underpants. Talk about a walk of shame!

If he had glanced up, he would have caught my toothy grin. I'm pretty sure he heard me giggling.

* * * * * *

Word spread quickly, and during recess, Andy was the talk of the school. You’d think no one had ever seen a boy in his underwear before!

Andy wasn’t around to hear all the gossip. Miss Hanover made it clear his clothes weren’t coming back until the day’s end, and there was no way he was going outside dressed—well, undressed—as he was. Personally, I was kind of hoping she’d send him out anyway, but honestly, I couldn’t complain. The day had already turned out far better than I ever imagined.

Mia and I hung out by the four-square court, yukking it up. "We did it!" I grinned, grabbing Mia’s shoulders. "I can’t believe we actually pulled it off. And it was even better than I expected!"

Mia, grinning just as wide, playfully squeezed my sides. "Oh, totally! The poor boy didn’t know what hit him," she laughed.

"And you with the back scratcher," I said. "It really looked like you were fighting him for it. That performance was Oscar-worthy!"

"Thank you, thank you," Mia said, making a little bow. "Honestly, he was so confused it made my job easy."

"And excuse me, my playful little friend... what was up with you pulling my skirt up?"

Mia gave me an impish look. "Oh, that? Just having a little fun with you," she said. "You looked a little panicked there for a second!"

"Uh, yeah! I thought you’d never let go. All the boys around me were getting a pretty good look at my panties. I think Kenny was about to pop a boner."

Mia giggled. "Whoops. Sorry about that. But hey, it made it even more convincing for Miss Hanover, right?"

"Oh, no doubt. We had Andy right where we wanted him."

Mia nudged me. "So, tell me—what was it like up there? I bet you were having hella fun."

"Oh, Mia, it was unreal!" I said. "I mean, I was already thrilled Miss Hanover called me up there. But actually being the one to pull down his pants? I wanted to make it last as long as possible."

"Oh, you were awesome. I wish I could have seen his face. Or the front of his undies." She giggled.

I snorted. “Well, he made sure to keep that covered on his way back to his seat. You’d think his life depended on it!”

Mia laughed. "I know! I mean, it was like his hands were glued in place.”

"I got a pretty good look at it," I said, giving her a sly smile.

"And?" asked Mia as she looked at me eagerly.

I just grinned. "He'll be in his undies all day, so maybe you'll get to see for yourself."

"Oh, what a little tease you are!" Mia said.

We both burst out laughing, but after a moment, I sobered a little and looked her in the eye. "Hey," I said, lowering my voice, "can I tell you something? Just between us?"

Mia turned serious. "Of course," she said.

"Well," I said. "You were asking me if I was having fun, and I definitely was. But... there was something else..."

She raised her eyebrows. “Yeah?”

"I was getting kind of... turned on, if you know what I mean. Should I feel weird about that?"

"Of course you were! And, no, you shouldn't feel weird at all. It's only natural. Truth be known, you weren't the only one. When you had him stripped to his underwear, I kinda wanted to slip my hand under my skirt right then and there.”

"Hahaha. I'm so happy to hear that. I have to tell you, after I had his pants down, it was all I could do not to haul down his underpants too.”

"Oh, I wish you would have!" Mia laughed. "Now that would have been a turn-on. And Andy would've freaked!"

"Tell me about it! You know, I was a little bummed he was wearing an undershirt."

"Yeah, you should have pulled that off while you were at it," laughed Mia. “Let him walk around in nothing but his little tighty-whities the rest of the day.”

"That would have been perfect. At least with his tee shirt tucked in, we can see them."

“What is up with that, anyway? Who tucks in their freaking underwear?”

I shrugged, grinning. “Just Andy, being the dork he is.”

"I wonder if Miss Hanover has anything else planned for him?"

I smiled. "We can only hope. Either way, this has already been a legendary day. And it’s not even lunchtime yet."

Mia laughed. "Oh, this is gonna be so much fun."

I couldn’t wait to see what happened next. And when I get a chance, I'm so looking forward to telling you all about it.

[Robert Brooks]

I can't go wrong with either Subway or Humidifiers. Both lend themselves to so many juicy possibilities.

I’ve been hoping you’d continue Humidifiers for the last decade! One of my all time faves!

[notme222]

Yes! I've been looking forward to this getting renewed ever since BooksieSilk went down.

[Blondie]

Chapter 3: The Substitute

To my absolute delight, Andy’s embarrassing ordeal didn’t end when we got back from morning recess. If anything, it escalated—and this time it happened without any shenanigans on the part of Mia and me.

When we returned to the classroom, Miss Hanover was in the front of the room chatting with a woman I didn’t recognize—a well-dressed, attractive blond in her late twenties, maybe early thirties. Once we took our seats, we learned who she was and why she was there.

"Class," started Miss Hanover, "I'd like to introduce you to Miss Prescott. I have to attend a school district conference off campus, so Miss Prescott will be your substitute teacher for the rest of the day. She comes highly recommended, and I expect you to be on your best behavior. Good day, and thank you, Miss Prescott."

At the time I was quite disappointed, thinking that Andy's embarrassing punishment would be cut short. But that disappointment evaporated almost instantly. Miss Hanover had one foot out the door, then stopped herself. For whatever reason, she felt inclined to fill us in on Andy's current situation.

“Just so you’re all aware,” she said while looking at Andy, "Miss Prescott has been fully apprised of Andrew's gross misbehavior this morning, as well as the consequences. She is quite agreeable to the terms of his punishment and is fully receptive to him spending the rest of the day in his underwear. And—though I hope it won’t be necessary—she’s not at all opposed to further disciplinary action, if required.” (I swear, I caught the faintest hint of a smile on Miss Prescott’s lips at that moment.) Thank you, and good day."

As she departed, I looked back and smiled at Andy. I may have been licking my lips.

* * * * * *

Before continuing with the accounts of that fabulous day, I think it would be worthwhile to share what I’ve since discovered about Miss Prescott. Out of curiosity, I recently researched her extensively on the Internet, and you're not going to believe what I found.

Her name is Monica Prescott, and she was a substitute teacher for several years, until she was ultimately arrested and stripped of her teaching credential. Evidently she had a history of abusing her students. I didn't read or hear of any physical abuse—it was more along the lines of... well, of what Miss Hanover was doing to Andy that day. Apparently she had a predilection toward inflicting humiliation, and on more than one occasion would force a student to remove one or more articles of clothing. Eventually, someone reported her. There was an investigation, and several incidents like the one that got her arrested were uncovered.

And get this: She was convicted of crimes that normally would have warranted a prison sentence. But the school administrator actually recommended that she be given a chance to rehabilitate through psychotherapy instead. The judge went along with it. She was turned over to the care of a psychiatrist. Isn't that wild?

Well, it gets wilder. It came out later that the psychiatrist (Dr. Carolyn Withers) was a bit of a pervert in her own right, and her therapy consisted of humiliating Miss Prescott in much the same way Prescott had humiliated her students. Apparently, there was a fair amount of depravity taking place behind closed doors in her office. Some guy using the pseudonym Blondie posted a story about it online, entitled The Satanic Psychiatrist. He goes into extensive detail, recounting Monica Prescott's numerous humiliations—usually involving the coerced removal of her clothing. You should check it out if that sort of thing interests you.

And one other very interesting tidbit: In my research I also contacted the author, and he let me in on a little secret (he also said it was okay if I disclosed it here). He is planning on adding more chapters to The Satanic Psychiatrist someday. When he does, his readers will find out that Monica Prescott divulged to the psychiatrist while under hypnosis that her given name was Felicity, and that she conducted a reign of humiliation terror when she was in high school. Evidently she had a few of the kids under her thumb and subjected them to countless humiliations, most often involving the removal of some or all of their clothing against their will.

She even posted her own memoir about it (which I recently read, and, oh my goodness, she really was a holy terror) entitled The Felicity Chronicles: My Exploits as a Humiliator. It hit home for me, because, though it was a different time, it all happened at Roosevelt High School, the same high school that Andy and I eventually attended!

I heard several stories about her over the years when I was there—her escapades in humiliation were legendary—but I had no idea at the time that our substitute teacher Miss Prescott was that very same Felicity. Crazy!

Anyway, she changed her name to Monica Prescott when she decided she wanted to become a teacher, thinking that if any of her high school abuses came out, then it would be the end of her teaching aspirations. And I guess that, rather fittingly, she ended up losing her teaching credential because she couldn't control her strong urges to enforce humiliation, mostly on high school kids. And even more poetic, she ended up on the receiving end of the very humiliations she once inflicted. What goes around, comes around, right?

Sorry to get off track like that, but I thought that knowing what type of person Miss Prescott/Felicity was would add a little extra flavor as you read the rest of this story.

Honestly, I was already excited about Andy's predicament before Miss Hanover left for the day. If I’d known about Miss Prescott’s sordid past at the time, I probably would have been buzzing with delicious anticipation.

* * * * * *

Miss Prescott took her place at the front of the room, setting her materials down before scanning the class. She had the kind of presence that commanded attention, even without saying a word. What really caught my attention, though, was how often her eyes seemed to linger on Andy.

"Well then," she said, "let’s get started, shall we?"

I glanced back at Andy just in time to see him flinch. Maybe he was just being paranoid, but I got the feeling he half-expected her first order of business would involve him. I was certainly hoping for that.

But she didn’t acknowledge him right away. Instead, she dove into the lesson plan, acting as if nothing unusual was happening—never mind that there was a boy sitting in the middle of the room in nothing but his tighty-whities and a tucked-in tee shirt.

Of course, I kept sneaking glances at Andy. Every shift in his seat, every nervous glance around the room, every little adjustment to his underpants—it was all delicious. He was clearly hyperaware of himself, praying he could fade into the background.

No chance of that, little bro.

Then came a moment that upped the ante. Miss Prescott had been writing something on the board when she suddenly stopped, tapping the chalk against her chin in thought. Then, as if it had just occurred to her, she turned back to the class and said, "Oh! Before I forget—Andrew, could you come up to the front for a moment?"

The entire room went still. All eyes were on Andy, who sat frozen in his seat.

"Andrew?" Miss Prescott prompted again, her tone a little firmer.

Oh, this is too good!

A few snickers rippled through the room, and I could almost feel the heat radiating from Andy’s face. He glanced around, as if hoping for some kind of escape route, but of course, there was none. Slowly, painstakingly, he forced himself out of his chair, hands plastered firmly over the front of his underpants.

"Come along now," Miss Prescott coaxed.

Andy shuffled forward, hovering awkwardly in front of her while she regarded him with open amusement.

"I just wanted to get a closer look at you," she said.

Oh, my goodness!

“It’s not every day we’re treated to a boy in his underwear in the middle of a classroom,” she continued. She met his eye and paused, taking in his blushing face. “And a very embarrassed boy, at that.”

Andy stiffened. Miss Prescott simply clasped her hands behind her back and regarded Andy with a calm expression. "Miss Hanover told me about your behavior this morning," she said. She gave him another once-over, her gaze sweeping from his undershirt to his still very tightly clutched tighty-whities. "I must say, I fully approve of her punishment. You had best behave yourself, or I'll have to step things up a notch."

Andy made a strangled noise in the back of his throat. I glanced at Mia, and we both struggled to contain our excitement. Miss Prescott nodded, satisfied.

"All right then, Andrew. That will be all. You may return to your seat."

Andy practically sprinted back to his desk.

Miss Prescott looked over her notes and addressed the class. "Please open your math books to Chapter 13 and read the first two pages. Once you've finished, we’ll discuss what you've learned."

Chairs scraped against the floor as we settled in, flipping open our books. I made a half-hearted attempt at reading, but my attention kept drifting back to Andy. Every so often, I’d steal a glance and grin to myself, still reveling in the fact that he’d be stuck like this for the rest of the day.

On one of those glances, I noticed something that made me frown: Andy had tugged his undershirt loose from his underpants. It covered up a good portion of his tighty-whities, which, of course, was exactly what he had in mind.

Luckily, Miss Prescott noticed too. And judging from the look on her face, she was not pleased. "Andrew, would you please stand up?"

Andy stiffened as every eye in the classroom turned to him. Hesitantly, he stood, hands still shielding his front. Miss Prescott folded her arms.

"Did I give you permission to untuck your undershirt?"

Andy’s face went even redder. "Um... n-no, I just... I d-didn’t know I had to k-keep it tucked in," he stammered. Even as he spoke, he fumbled to tuck it back in with one hand, the other still hiding himself as best as he could.

Miss Prescott raised an eyebrow. "The purpose of your punishment, Mr. Cunningham, is to embarrass you, as you embarrassed your sister. Full exposure of your underpants is a major part of your embarrassment. Did you not know that?"

The room was silent except for the soft snickers of a few classmates. Andy stood there, mortified, not daring to move. Finally, he managed a tiny, reluctant nod. It was silent for a spell while she stared at him, and he stood there like a frightened puppy. He finally spoke, almost inaudibly.

"I'm s-sorry, Mrs. Pres... Miss Prescott," he said. "I'll keep it tucked in from now on."

"Do you agree that exposing your underpanties in front of all your classmates is embarrassing?"

I absolutely loved her using the term "underpanties," as it had to add to his already keen embarrassment.

"Y-yes," Andy replied quietly.

"Let me hear you say it."

Oh, I think I'm going to like this lady!

"Yes, it's... it's embarrassing to expose... expose my underpants," Andy mumbled.

He stared at the floor, cheeks flaming as his classmates giggled.

"That's not what I said. I called them underpanties. Let's try again."

Now totally flustered, Andy had to force himself to continue. "It's... embarrassing to expose my... my under... panties."

The laughter in the room hit a new high, and Andy's cheeks were pulsating with mortification. But the devilish teacher wasn't done.

"In front of...?" Miss Prescott prompted, holding out her palm.

“In front of all my classmates,” he managed.

"The whole sentence now," she pressed.

Andy took a deep breath. "It's embarrassing to expose my under... underpanties... in front of all my classmates."

"Yes, I'm sure it is," said Miss Prescott while looking at his underpants. "Now take your seat, while I decide what to do with you."

What to DO with him? DO with him? Oh, be still, my heart!

Miss Prescott walked back to her desk. Andy slunk to his seat. Mia and I looked at each other with an eager smile, relishing Andy's humiliation, and now with the sense that there was almost certainly more to come.

* * * * * *

Miss Prescott wrote a complicated equation on the board. "Class, I'd like you to take out a piece of paper and work this out. Take your time; it is a difficult one to solve."

She remained seated at her desk as we focused on our assignment, the only sound in the room being the occasional scratch of pencils against paper. Nothing relating to Andy materialized for a while. Until it did.

After a few minutes, Miss Prescott rose from her chair and strolled purposefully down our aisle. Her heels tapped softly against the floor, her steps deliberate. She stopped right behind Andy’s chair. I paused my work, glancing back curiously—along with nearly everyone else in the room. The air seemed to buzz with anticipation.

Without saying a word, Miss Prescott reached down and grabbed Andy’s undershirt at both sides, right by the waistband of his underpants. I felt a tingling inside as it lifted, exposing the pale skin of his flat belly, knowing where this was inevitably headed.

Andy jolted in his seat. "No!" he yelped, instinctively clamping his arms to his sides.

She continued to pull upward, exposing more of Andy's skin, much to his horror and my titillation. Andy—at least for the moment—kept his elbows at his sides, impeding the progress of Miss Prescott's undertaking.

"Arms up," Miss Prescott instructed, her voice calm but unyielding as she tugged higher.

"Please, Miss Prescott... I promise... I promise I'll be good!" said Andy, sounding like a misbehaving six-year-old desperately trying to avoid punishment.

Miss Prescott remained unfazed. She took his wrists and, with gentle but firm pressure, pulled his arms straight up over his head. Andy knew better than to resist. The second his arms were raised, she whisked his undershirt off in one smooth motion.

And just like that, Andy was left at his desk in nothing but his tighty-whities.

Miss Prescott examined the shirt for a moment, then glanced at Andy, who sat rigid in his seat, his face a spectacular shade of red.

"Now you don’t have to worry about keeping this tucked in," she said, standing over him, clearly savoring his exposure.

Satisfied, the teacher turned and strolled back up the aisle, Andy’s undershirt in hand.

All eyes were glued to my near-naked, slightly-built little brother, who was beside himself and squirming around in his chair like he had ants in his pants. Comically, he had one hand over his privates and the other across his chest, a pose one would expect from a naked girl who was frantically trying to hide her lady bits and little tits from prying eyes.

Andy was stripped to his tighty-whities in the middle of the classroom, and it was awesome!

* * * * * *

The next thirty minutes or so passed without incident. We moved on from math to English, but no one was paying much attention. Who could, with a boy sitting nearly naked in the middle of the classroom? Any interest in grammar or literature had long since been overshadowed by the far more entertaining spectacle of squirming, anxious Andy. I couldn’t help but steal frequent glances back at him, and each time, the sight made me grin. His face was still an impressive shade of red—a color that hadn’t faded since the moment I pulled his pants down almost two hours before. He sat rigid, knees pressed together, arms locked across his chest, hands over his lap—doing everything possible to hide himself. The poor boy looked absolutely miserable.

Then, around 11:30, things somehow got even better. (Well, not for Andy.) And it was then that I—and certainly Andy—realized that Miss Prescott (aka Felicity) was even more depraved than Miss Hanover.

Still sitting at her desk, she suddenly addressed him. “Andrew, I know you weren’t able to go outside for recess because of, well...” she gestured vaguely at him, “your current situation. But tell me, did you get a chance to use the little boy’s room and do your wee-wees?”

A wave of giggles spread through the class. Andy, already tense, went rigid.

“Uh, no... I’m okay,” he mumbled, eyes glued to his desk.

Miss Prescott shook her head. "Well, you do need to do your wee-wees," she countered. "You certainly can’t go outside for lunch like that. So I'd like you to go do your wee-wees now, so you can get back before everyone else goes out for their lunch."

Andy’s look of horror was priceless. He squirmed, clearly searching for a way out. “May I... may I please have my clothes back?” he asked desperately. "I can't go out there in my... like this."

Miss Prescott didn’t even blink. “As I already told you, per Miss Hanover’s instructions, your clothing will be returned at the end of the school day. You can and will go out there just as you are."

Andy swallowed hard. “I-I really don’t have to go,” he tried again, his voice barely audible.

"Nonsense," she replied. "You need to do your wee-wees, lest you have a boo-boo later and tinkle in your little underpanties."

That sent the class into outright laughter. I was relishing Andy's mortification—and then, miraculously, things got even better.

"You'll need to be escorted," Miss Prescott declared. "May I have two volunteers to escort Andrew to the little boy's bathroom so he can do his wee-wees?"

My hand shot into the air so fast I nearly dislocated my shoulder. I didn’t even need to look to know that Mia’s hand was waving wildly behind me. A few other hands were up too, almost all belonging to girls.

Miss Prescott scanned the room and made her selection. “Andrea,” she said. Yes! “And... Mia.”

Mia and I sprang out of our seats and stationed ourselves on either side of Andy, grinning like we’d won the lottery.

“Mia, I want to commend you for your actions today,” Miss Prescott said. “Miss Hanover told me your intervention helped prevent Andrew’s repulsive behavior from escalating.”

“Oh, I’m just glad I could help,” Mia replied, beaming “I was worried Andrew was about to pull Andrea’s skirt all the way up. Even though I stopped him, everyone got a pretty good look at her panties.”

She shot me a mischievous smile. As if she hadn’t helped make sure everyone got that "pretty good look."

"Well, at least Mr. Cunningham is getting his just desserts," Miss Prescott said, shaking her head. “Spending the day in his underpants, red-faced and humbled. I do hope he’s learning something from all this.”

Andy looked like he wanted to puke. He remained planted in his seat, as if staying put would somehow make this all go away. But then, in a sudden burst of panic, he launched himself up, pushed past Mia and me, and bolted toward the door. He was two steps from the exit before his departure was forestalled by the authoritative voice of Miss Prescott.

"Stop right where you are, young man!" she bellowed.

Andy did indeed stop in his tracks.

"Did I not say that you were supposed to be escorted, Mr. Cunningham?" she asked, her tone stern.

“I... I thought they would come with me,” Andy stammered weakly.

Miss Prescott’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t think so. Not only did you disobey me, but now you’re trying to lie your way out of it?” She shook her head in mock disappointment. “What am I going to do with you, Andrew?”

Mia and I had already eagerly made our way to the front of the room. We were standing on either side of Andy, which was fortuitous, because it gave Miss Prescott an inspiration. She seemed to consider something for a moment before her lips curled into a smile.

"It's time you got your hands away from your privates," she said. "Andrea and Mia, please take his hands.”

Andy resisted, clutching his crotch even tighter.

"AnDREW?" Miss Prescott warned. “Don’t make me come over there!"

Andy let out a miserable whimper and, very slowly, released his grip. Mia and I each took a hand and held them at his sides. For the first time in almost two hours, the little bump in his tighty-whities was plain for all to see. Mia and I both leaned in for a good look, grinning while Andy turned scarlet with shame.

Miss Prescott, too, gave his underpants a long, appraising glance. I’m pretty sure I caught her smiling.

“You are not to cover your little bits with your hands again,” she told him. “Is that understood?”

“Y-yes,” Andy mumbled, looking absolutely miserable.

Miss Prescott kept her eyes on Andy while Mia and I flanked him, holding his hands. For the next couple of minutes Miss Prescott scolded Andy for his misbehavior. I couldn’t tell you exactly what she said, because Mia and I were focused on our own little endeavor.

Andy had angled himself toward the chalkboard, desperately trying to shield the front of his underpants from the room. But Mia, ever the mischief-maker, started gently tugging his left arm, trying to swivel him toward our spellbound classmates. Catching on immediately, I pulled on his right arm, both of us working together to turn him against his will. Andy squirmed and tried to resist, but with our firm grip on his hands—and the threat of Miss Prescott looming—he didn’t dare pull away.

Miss Prescott watched, clearly amused and fully supportive of our little maneuver. Andy was completely helpless. Bit by bit, we rotated him until, finally, he was facing the entire class head-on. Thirty pairs of eyes zeroed in on his crotch. The room erupted in giggles, which only egged us on.

Suddenly, Mia shot Andy’s left arm high above his head. I followed suit, raising his right arm as high as I could. Laughter and squeals filled the room, and everyone was riveted by the spectacle. Mia and I exchanged gleeful glances, sneaking a peek at Andy’s hairless underarms before grinning at each other in triumph. Andy’s cheeks glowed so red, I thought he might burst into flames.

Not to be left out, Miss Prescott strode partway down the center aisle, pausing to really take in the scene. She looked Andy up and down, this time making no effort to hide her smile. That’s when it hit me—her appetite for humiliation might truly be limitless.

And it was equally clear: Andy’s ordeal was far from over.

* * * * * *

I think I’ll leave you for now, with the image of poor, mortified Andy standing in front of his enthralled classmates in nothing but his tighty-whities, arms held high. I'll be sure to check in again soon, and hopefully regale you with more unforgettable moments from that marvelous day.

[tim409]

Chapter 3: The Substitute

So the two girls have to escort him to the boy's room. Will there be other boys using the urinal and will the girls get to see their penises? (I hope so) Will Andy still have to keep his hands on his head so the girls will have to pull down his "panties" and will the pull them down to his knees to make sure they are low enough? Lot's of possibilities including maybe he will soil his panties so the sub will have him take them off for the rest of the day.

[Blondie]

Chapter4: The Shaming

When I last checked in, Mia and I were holding Andy’s hands high above his head, putting him on full display for our absolutely captivated classmates. Their wide-eyed stares said it all—they were eating up every second of the spectacle. And what a spectacle it was: Andy, wearing nothing but a pair of old tighty-whities and profusely blushing cheeks.

A few steps away, Miss Prescott stood with her arms folded, watching with a wicked little smile. “Andreeew,” she drawled, drawing out his name in a voice that made it clear she was enjoying every second of this. "You are blushing ever so much!"

Andy somehow blushed even harder, which I hadn’t thought was possible. “You’re obviously quite embarrassed,” Miss Prescott noted. “Can you tell me exactly what’s making you feel that way?”

"I... I... please... I'm in my... my..." Andy stammered, looking absolutely miserable. Apparently he didn't want to say the word "underpants." Of course, Miss Prescott was not about to let him off the hook.

"Your...?"

“My... underpants,” he finally whispered, barely loud enough for the front row to hear. But that was enough—the class broke out in a fresh wave of giggles.

“Yes, you are!” Miss Prescott declared, grinning broader still. “And just for fun, let’s call them ‘underpanties’ from now on, shall we?"

The giggles instantly turned into full-blown laughter, and Andy looked like he wanted to melt into the floor. Miss Prescott continued to turn the screws.

“Now, Andrew, tell the class what you’re wearing,” she instructed

Andy shifted from foot to foot, mumbling, “My... underpanties...”

"And nothing else, right?"

I looked up at Andy to see him nod his head. At this point, my arm was getting tired, so I quickly switched hands, making sure he stayed on full display. It occurred to me that if I were in his shoes—oh wait, he wasn’t wearing any shoes (ha!)—that if it was possible to make myself just die on the spot, then I would strongly consider availing myself of that option.

I also remember thinking that short of yanking down Andy's underpants (I wish!), Miss Prescott would be hard-pressed to increase the level of Andy's embarrassment. But I had strongly underestimated the level of her depravity.

"Tell me, Andrew," she continued. "I know you're embarrassed standing there in front of your classmates in your little underpanties. What exactly about your predicament embarrasses you most?”

Andy’s voice quavered. "I... I don't know... please..." Andy was flustered, and I wasn't sure myself where she was going with this.

"Alright, since you’re struggling, let’s try something easier. I’ll name a few reasons, and you tell me if I’m right. And I want full sentences, Andrew—no more nodding or mumbling. Understood?”

"Y-yes."

"Good. Now, are you embarrassed to be standing in your underpanties in front of your sister?"

Andy nodded shamefacedly while staring at the ground.

"This conversation is way too one-sided. So from now on you'll respond with your answer and repeat what I said. Now let's try again. Are you embarrassed to be exposed in your underpanties in front of your sister Andrea?"

"Y-yes, I'm embarrassed to be... to be exposed to my... in my... please, I... I forgot what you said."

"Exposed, underpanties, sister, Andrea," she assisted.

"I'm embarrassed to be exposed in my... in my underpanties... to my sister. My sister Andrea," Andy managed.

"Very good." Miss Prescott nodded approvingly. "Now, are you embarrassed that it was your sister Andrea who pulled down your trousers and exposed your little underpanties in front of everyone?"

Andy’s face somehow got even redder. "I'm... I'm embarrassed that my sister pulled... my sister Andrea pulled down my pa... my trousers... and... and... please, I forgot."

"Exposed your little...?"

"Exposed my little... I'm embarrassed that my sister Andrea pulled down my trousers and... and exposed my under... my little underpants... I mean my little underpanties."

The class howled with laughter again, and I shot Mia a gleeful grin. This was amazing!

Miss Prescott allowed the laughter to subside, then continued, “Are you also embarrassed that Andrea and Mia are holding your hands up and showing off your underpanties—and your hairless underarms—to all your classmates?”

Andy’s answer was almost inaudible. "Yes... I'm embarrassed that Mia and my sister are... are exposing my underpanties... and underarms... hairless underarms."

Miss Prescott extended an open palm toward the students. “To...?”

"To all my classmates."

Miss Prescott nodded. "Now, Andrew, your legs are rather smooth, wouldn't you say? Are you embarrassed to be showing off your pretty, girly legs?"

Everyone's eyes—including mine—were immediately drawn to Andy's legs, which were indeed quite hairless, and yes, kind of pretty. I wondered how long he could weather the excruciating torment.

Andy hesitated, clearly dreading what he was about to say. "Y-yes, I'm embarrassed to be showing off my... my legs... my, um... my pretty legs..."

Miss Prescott pounced. “Pretty girly legs. You forgot the ‘girly.’ You have pretty, girly legs. Now let me hear you say it.”

Andy closed his eyes, mortified. “I have pretty, girly legs.”

That brought on a whole new round of giggles from the class. More than one person craned to get a better look at his legs.

Miss Prescott clasped her hands together, delighted. "Excellent, Andrew. Now, are you embarrassed that everyone is staring at your underpanties?"

Andy momentarily clenched his eyes shut before submitting. The whole scene had to be excruciating for him!

"Yes... I'm embarrassed that... everyone is staring at my underpanties."

"While we stare at you underpanties, it’s rather noticeable that the bulge there is... smaller than one might expect from a young man your age. Are you embarrassed to have a small bulge in your underpanties?”

Oh, my goodness!

Andy looked like he was about to pass out. "I... I'm embarrassed to have a... a small bulge in... in my underpanties."

“Yes, I imagine you are—especially since everyone’s staring at it. That small bulge in your underpanties makes one thing pretty clear: Your penis is on the smaller side.”

The laughter that followed was louder and more raucous than before. While Andy's cheeks continued to pulsate fire engine red, Miss Prescott waited for the room to settle down. Her next question managed to add even more torment to Andy's agonizing ordeal.

"Do you have a tiny penis, Andrew? Be honest."

Oh my goodness again!

"I... uh... I... uh... I don't think... I don't think it's tiny," Andy stammered, squirming and blushing crimson while looking straight down at a spot on the floor in front of his scrunched-up toes.

Miss Prescott tilted her head. "You don't? Do you think it's smaller than average?"

Andy’s ears, cheeks, and even his neck were flaming. "Um... I don't... no, I think it's... it's average."

"Do I need to pull down your underpanties so we can confirm that you have an average-sized penis?"

Gasps and shrieks of exclamation rang throughout the classroom. I was wide-eyed and agape, admittedly hoping she might really follow through with the threat.

"No!" Andy cried. Mia and I both felt a pull from Andy's hands, but we held them up firmly.

"Because by the looks of things," Miss Prescott continued, "I think you might be lying to me again."

"Please! I... oh! Yes, I think I... no, I do... I do have a small... smaller than average one."

"Are you embarrassed that you have a petite pee-pee?"

That sent the class into pure chaos. I almost choked on my saliva. And of course, everyone continued staring at the small bump in Andy's underpants.

Andy could barely breathe, it seemed. "Oh! Please, I... I'm embarrassed to have... to have a..." He couldn't bring himself to say it. I mean, can you blame him? But there was no way Miss Prescott would let it slide.

"You're embarrassed to have what, Andrew?" she pressed.

“A petite... penis,” he managed, so low hardly anyone but us could hear.

"Did I say 'penis,' Mr. Cunningham? I do believe I did not. Once again, please.”

Somehow—I don't know how—Andy managed to force it out. "I'm embarrassed to have a petite pee-pee," he said as quickly as he could without mangling the verbiage.

Laughter rang throughout, and Andy's face looked like it was ready to ignite.

Miss Prescott allowed the amusement to settle, then nodded, finally satisfied. "Thank you, Andy. I trust you’ve been properly reminded why you should never dream of leaving my classroom without permission."

Andy’s legs were shaking. He looked like he had just lived through his worst nightmare, while Mia and I were grinning like fools, hardly believing our luck.

“Now, please allow Andrea and Mia to escort you to the little boys’ room so you can do your wee-wees,” Miss Prescott said, her tone positively chipper.

With that, Mia and I lowered Andy’s arms, but kept a grip on his trembling hands. As we turned toward the door, Miss Prescott called after us, “And I’d better not hear anything about you failing to cooperate with your chaperones, Andrew.”

Mia and I exchanged sly grins, barely able to contain our excitement. We could hardly wait to take advantage of our incredibly good fortune.

[Blondie]

Chapter 5: The Sadists

As Mia and I strolled down the hallway, each firmly gripping one of Andy’s hands, we were positively giddy with delight. Andy, on the other hand, looked like he’d rather sink into the floor and vanish. His bare feet slapped softly against the cool tiles, the only thing shielding him from total exposure being a single, snug pair of old tighty-whities. His face was cycling through various shades of red. And best of all, he was completely at the mercy of Mia and me.

The excursion involved a lengthy, L-shaped hallway, then down a longish flight of stairs leading down to the first-floor bathrooms. Thanks to Mia, we would take advantage of the time and enjoy it to the fullest. Of course, that meant that our level of enjoyment would correspond with Andy's level of torment.

Predictably, Andy tried to hurry us along, desperate to get the ordeal over with. But Mia wasn’t having it. With a firm squeeze on his hand, she slowed him down, and I followed suit. Our leisurely stroll forced him to match our speed, ensuring that every agonizing second of his predicament was savored to the fullest.

"I’ll get you both back for this," Andy muttered under his breath, still blushing furiously.

Mia stopped in her tracks and broke out into uproarious laughter, the sound echoing off the walls of the deserted hallway. When she finally caught her breath, she turned to me with a wicked grin.

"Oh, Andrea," she said as we resumed, dragging our feet. "Can you believe the nerve of him to threaten us right now? A little boy teen stripped to his underpanties, at the mercy of two fully clothed girls who are escorting him to the bathroom to—as Miss Prescott said—to do his wee-wees? I personally find that hilarious."

I giggled, playing along. "I know, right? You’d think someone in his position would be a little more respectful."

"And do you know why he’s at our mercy?" Mia asked.

“Uh, because we’re fully clothed and he’s not?” I guessed.

Mia laughed. "Well, yeah, there’s that". But more than that—it’s the new substitute. If Andy steps out of line, all we have to do is tell Miss Prescott he wasn’t cooperating. I guarantee that would not end well for him."

Andy tensed between us, but we paid him no mind. Instead, we continued our slow, leisurely stroll, chatting about him as if he weren’t even there—which, personally, I found delightful. Judging by the way he squirmed, it was obviously having the effect we intended.

"I mean," Mia went on, "did you see the look on Miss Prescott’s face when Andy was standing up there in his tighty-whities, repeating all those humiliating things she made him say?"

"Totally! She looked like she was really enjoying herself."

"Exactly! So if we so much as hinted that Andy wasn’t cooperating, I bet she’d take things up a notch. She’d love an excuse.”

"What do you think she’d do?" I asked, more than a little curious—and hopeful. "You told me how Miss Hanover once made a boy spend the whole day in the girls' uniform. Do you think Miss Prescott would do something like that?"

Andy let out a strangled noise, but we both ignored him.

"Oh, I’m sure she’d love to do that," Mia said, grinning. "She’s already commented on his pretty girly legs. I bet they'd look even lovelier if he was wearing a skirt."

“He really does have pretty legs,” I added, mostly for Andy’s benefit—as was pretty much all our conversation at the time.

Mia let go of his hand and stepped ahead, pausing to give Andy’s legs a slow, critical once-over. I kept him in place, giving her free rein to torment him.

"They’re perfect," she said, eyeing him up and down. "Well, they would be—if he were a girl. They're long, slender, and not a hair in sight—like they’ve been freshly shaven."

Andy fidgeted, his knees knocking together as if he wanted to hide them. Mia noticed, and pounced on it.

“Look at him, all self-conscious about his pretty legs. If I were him, I'd be proud to show them off. But then, I'm a girl." We both giggled, delighting in Andy’s squirming.

Mia paused, enjoying the moment, then suddenly said, “You know what, I need to feel how smooth they are.” Without waiting for a response, she walked up to Andy and reached out for his thigh. Andy immediately jerked his leg away. Mia, unfazed, said, "One would think it would be in his best interest not to challenge me."

I grinned. “Right? Otherwise, we’re telling Miss Prescott—and who knows what kind of embarrassing punishment she’d invent next.”

Mia smiled wider. “Exactly. Let’s try this again. I really want to feel his pretty legs." She reached down and stroked Andy’s calf. Evidently he got the point, because as tormenting as I'm sure it was for him, there was no resistance this time.

"Oh yes, these are lovely," Mia cooed. “Andrea, check this out—smooth as silk.”

Of course, I couldn’t resist, and bent down to gently stroke his other leg. "Ooh, you're right, Mia. They're... they're velvet-like."

“Yes!” Mia exclaimed, delighted. "Velvet-like! I love that!" She ran her fingers up the inside of his thigh, getting dangerously close to his privates, then added, “He’s soft and smooth all over. Velvet-like.” I think she may have brushed against his balls, because suddenly Andy stood on tiptoes and squeaked a high, mortified yelp.

"Please stop!" he squealed, the first time we’d heard him speak in a while.

Mia only giggled, switching tactics. She took his wrist, running her fingertips up his arm and over his bicep. “Silky smooth arms, too. Girly arms.” Then she placed her hand on his chest and gently stroked his chest and tummy. "He's smooth everywhere. And so soft."

"If you were a guy you'd probably have a boner right now," I teased.

Mia laughed. "And if I were a lesbian I'd probably ravish him on the spot."

That sent me into a fit of laughter, Mia joining in. Poor Andy looked downright miserable, his blush now spreading all the way to his ears and neck. Oh, we were having a joyous time!

Mia tugged Andy’s hand, and we resumed our slow parade down the hall.

"Let’s get back to Miss Prescott and discuss what embarrassing things she might do to Andy if he doesn’t cooperate," Mia said. "The girls’ uniform is a good option, but honestly, he’s already down to his underpanties. That’s probably even worse than the uniform, don’t you think?"

"Good point," I said, glancing at Andy. "He’s only got one piece of clothing left, and he’s showing a lot of skin. At least the girls’ uniform would give him a little coverage.”

"Exactly!" said Mia. "I mean, his face has been glowing ever since you pulled his pants down. If it was a choice between the girls’ uniform and just his undies, he’d pick the uniform in a heartbeat.”

"I think so too," I concurred.

"So," Mia went on, “what do you think Miss Prescott might do to make things even more humiliating?”

"Hmm, I don’t know. Tell me what you think she would do?"

Okay, I had an idea or two. But I was thoroughly enjoying Mia's commentary, and in truth, I was becoming quite titillated by it. And of course, Mia didn't disappoint.

"Well, the way I see it," she mused, "Miss Prescott clearly has a thing for humiliation. And it's obvious that she is taking pleasure in Andy's... his state of undress. So, seeing as he's been stripped of everything except his underpanties, I think it's pretty obvious what the next step would be."

I grinned. "Oh my goodness. Naked! D'you think she’d actually go that far?"

Mia smirked. "Oh, I absolutely think she would. The look in her eyes when she leers at Andy says it all."

I glanced at Andy, whose face had gone pale. If he wasn’t already humiliated enough, I thought, this conversation might just push him over the edge. But I couldn’t resist twisting the knife just a little more.

"Can you imagine what it would be like to be stripped totally naked in the classroom, in front of everybody?" I asked, watching his expression shift from horror to something closer to sheer panic.

“That won’t happen!” Andy blurted, voice cracking.

I guess we hit a nerve.

"Almost unimaginable," Mia replied, completely ignoring Andy's outburst. "I mean, I can't even imagine being stripped to my underwear, like Andy is right now."

“Same,” I said. “Just thinking about it makes my face hot.”

"Exactly! It’d be like you or me standing up in front of the whole class in just our bra and panties. Just picture that—and then imagine two of the boys, with Andy being one of them, escorting you to the bathroom."

"It’s unthinkable," I said, shuddering dramatically for effect.

"I know, right?" Mia giggled. "And let’s take it a step further. Imagine being completely naked in front of our classmates. Like Andy might be if we give Miss Prescott a bad report."

I shook my head. “I’d never get over it. I wouldn’t be able to look anyone in the eye again.”

“Me neither! Let’s say it happens to Andy today. Maybe it would get easier after a while, but he’d never really get over it. Every time any of our classmates see him, or even if just his name comes up, they'll be thinking, 'I saw him naked.' I know I would. And that image would never go away."

I tilted my head, pretending to picture it. “I’m seeing it now—Andy, red as a tomato, squirming, completely naked. His petite little pee-pee is on display." I giggled. "I’d never forget it. And he’d never live it down.”

Mia nodded. "I’m picturing it, too. And in my mind that petite little pee-pee is totally hairless.”

"Yes! Bald as an egg!" I laughed.

Andy let out a strained sound of protest, but Mia ignored him.

“If I tell you something,” she said, lowering her voice, “promise you won’t tell anyone?”

"Of course."

She grinned. “The thought of Andy, forced naked in the classroom, embarrassed as humanly possible... I have to admit, I’m getting turned on.”

I grinned back, glancing at Andy, who looked like he might vomit. As the reader might recall, Mia and I had already had a similar conversation during recess—but this replay was for Andy’s benefit.

"Don't get me wrong," Mia continued. “I’m not turned on by him, as in, him specifically. It’s the humiliation, the forced nudity, the shame.”

"I'm so glad you told me that," I replied. "I was feeling the same thing, and I guess I was feeling a little weird about it."

"I can't explain it," Mia said, shaking her head. “I just know it’s true. To tell you the truth, I've been feeling it pretty much all day, ever since you pulled his pants down."

"Me too!" I said. "I guess that makes us a couple of sadists!"

“Haha! And you know what? I’m totally fine with that—I’m having way too much fun.”

"You know," I said, "I don’t think we’re the only ones enjoying this. Miss Prescott, obviously. But did you see the looks on some of our classmates’ faces?"

"Oh, definitely!" Mia said, laughing. "A bunch of them looked way too entertained."

"Right? Most of the girls, and even some of the boys. Though I bet some of the boys were cringing, imagining themselves in Andy’s place."

"I'm sure," Mia snorted. "They had to be relieved it was Andy and not them. But I’d bet money some of them had a hard-on."

"Haha, yes," I agreed. "Andy’s officially the most popular boy in our school today!"

I really enjoyed this part of our dialog, and how much it had to be getting to Andy. I mean, he already was mortified beyond belief, and now he had to live with the knowledge that not only were we enjoying his humiliation—we were actually getting turned on by it. Knowing a lot of classmates were, too, had to make it even worse for him.

"I wonder," Mia said slyly, "how Andy feels about being responsible for making so many people horny?"

"I’m sure he feels very special," I replied, and we both broke into giggles. For a moment, we walked in silence, letting Andy stew in his own embarrassment. But Mia wasn’t done.

"What’s been your favorite part of Andy’s embarrassment today?" she asked.

"Oh, golly," I said, pondering. "There were so many fun parts. Getting called up to pull his pants down is definitely up there.”

"Yes!" Mia laughed. "You looked like you were really enjoying yourself."

"Oh, absolutely," I said. "While I was doing it, I thought about all the annoying things he’s done to me over the years. Seeing him flinch when I reached for his belt buckle... that was priceless. And then actually pulling his pants down—he was shaking, Mia! And when I exposed his underpanties, and those pretty legs—" I giggled. "His face was so red... yes, Mia, I was really enjoying myself. And I still am!"

Mia let out a laugh. "I'm really loving Miss Prescott's involvement, and how she's even more twisted than Miss Hanover."

"Isn't she, though? We couldn't have asked for any better."

"I know! When she brought up the little bump in his underpants, I couldn't believe it."

"Seriously! And making him say he has a petite penis? Oh, my goodness!"

"That was unbelievable," Mia agreed. "Andy must have wanted to die." She paused, then added, “And let’s back up for a second... remember when she walked back to his desk, made him raise his arms, and pulled off his tee shirt?”

"One hundred percent!" I said. "Andy was suddenly stripped to his tighty-whities and didn't know what to do with himself. I don't know about you, but I was definitely turned on.”

"Oh, same here," Mia replied, grinning ear to ear. "That was such an exciting moment."

And then Mia—unpredictable as ever—decided to escalate things. We’d just reached the landing halfway down the staircase when she struck.

“You know,” she mused, “I would’ve been even more turned on if you’d done this.”

Before Andy could react, Mia swooped behind him, grabbed the leg openings of his underpants, and yanked them down to his calves in one swift, audacious motion. In an instant, his tighty-whities were bunched around his calves, leaving him stunned and exposed.

"AAUGGGH!" screamed the horrified Andy, or something sounding vaguely similar.

The subsequent moments were somewhat of a blur, but I know that Andy jerked his hand from mine and, moving with frantic urgency, he had his underpants yanked back up to their proper place in the blink of an eye.

"Goddammit, knock it off!" he shouted, voice furious and shaking.

His face, already crimson, somehow went even darker. He glared at both of us while clutching his waistband like his life depended on it.

"Oh, Mia, you're too much!" I said, still wheezing with laughter.

"Did you get a good look?" asked Mia, grinning wickedly.

“No!” I answered, still laughing. “He was too quick. How about you?”

"I didn't get to see his baby soldier, but I can tell you he has a cute little baby bum."

"Haha," I laughed. "Maybe we'll see more next time."

"There won't be a next time!" Andy insisted, still rattled.

"Oh, there will be a next time," responded Mia confidently as we each took hold of his hands.

* * * * *

We reached the bottom of the stairs and headed quietly toward the bathroom. That quiet was shattered by the creak of a door opening nearby. Andy jerked to a stop and tried to pull away, but Mia and I both tightened our grips on his hands and pressed closer, holding him firmly in place.

We were about to have an unexpected guest—and Andy’s humiliation was on the verge of escalating to a whole new level.

[tim409]

Maybe the girls could hold his penis as he pees and make sure his underwear gets soaked so he would have to take them off so he has to walk back to class naked.

[Blondie]

Chapter 6: The Schoolgirl

The three of us paused in the hallway after hearing a door creak open. Mia and I exchanged curious glances, eager to see who might join our little scene. Andy, on the other hand, was quite apprehensive, because no matter who it was, it would be a new witness to his humiliation.

A moment later, a small girl emerged from the girls’ bathroom, turning toward us. She looked to be about a sixth grader, no more than twelve years old, if that. She took two steps before noticing us, then stopped in her tracks and stared at us. Well, mainly she was staring at Andy. Her eyes widened in shock, but that quickly gave way to one of amusement.

"Why is he in his underpants?" she finally asked, her gaze never leaving Andy.

"He's been a bad boy, and he's being punished," Mia declared.

"Really?" said the girl, who was quite intrigued. "Omigod, he must be really embarrassed!"

She boldly marched right up to Andy, looking him up and down with a wide, delighted grin. “What’s your name?” she asked.

Andy tried to avoid her, pulling against our grip, desperate to escape into the bathroom. Mia and I just tightened our grip, holding him in place.

"His name is Andy," I offered.

The girl’s grin widened. "I see London, I see France. I see Andy's underpants!" she sang out, then giggled uncontrollably like the young schoolgirl she was. We couldn't help but join in on the laughter, while Andy squirmed in our grasp and turned a brilliant shade of red.

"Doesn't he have pretty legs?" asked Mia.

* * * * *

Now, since Andy’s “pretty legs” have come up more than once, maybe it’s time to give you a visual. I never got a picture of them that day, but I did snap one the following year. Remember that I told you in the very first chapter that I eventually gained the upper hand on Andy, and that I would take full advantage of that? Well, without giving too much away (in case I ever write a follow-up story), during our freshman year at Roosevelt High School Mia and I made Andy wear a girl's uniform to school one day. Roosevelt wasn't a private school, and they had no uniform policy, which made it all the juicier. I dug up my uniform that I wore the previous year at St. Veronica's (the same one I was wearing during Andy’s hallway walk of shame). It was too small for him, but we were okay with that.

Mia and I made him pose for a picture in my bedroom after school. As you can see, he really did have pretty legs for a teenage boy. It helped that we made him shave off the peach fuzz before we took this picture.



* * * * * *

The schoolgirl crouched down a little and took her time examining Andy’s legs. “Yes!” she agreed, nodding emphatically. “They are! And they don’t have any hair on them at all. My brother’s legs are all hairy and gross. They're not pretty, like those."

I grinned up at Andy’s blushing, miserable face. He stared straight ahead, pointedly not meeting anyone’s eyes. Then the devious Mia was at it again.

"Would you like to see his bare bottom?" she asked.

The girl's eyes lit up. "Really? Could I?" she asked incredulously.

“No!” Andy howled, wriggling hard enough that I thought he might break free and make a run for it. Sensing this, Mia delivered a warning.

"You can if we say you can," Mia told the girl. "Andy knows better than to disobey us. Otherwise, we'll tell our teacher that he's been a bad boy again and he'll be in even bigger trouble."

The young girl seemed to like that and had a smirk on her face to show it.

"She probably would make him take off his underpants," continued Mia. The girl’s mouth dropped open in awe, and she glanced at Andy’s waist like she was picturing it. “So, I’m sure Andy will be more than willing to turn around and lower his underpants for you,” Mia went on, “so you can have a good look at his bare bottom.”

“Oh, my God!” squealed the girl, barely able to contain herself. “This is so fun!”

"Do you want to see Andy's bare bottom?" asked Mia devilishly.

"Yes, please! Let's have a look!" the girl cried.

"Okay then," laughed Mia.

Mia and I let go of Andy's wrists and stepped forward, joining the spellbound girl, who seemed almost overwhelmed with glee by her stroke of good fortune. The three of us stared at Andy, who stood motionless with both hands cupped over his little bump. The anguished look on his face was like someone who’d been constipated for days.

"Is he gonna do it?" asked the girl eagerly.

"If he knows what's good for him he will," Mia replied.

We continued to stare, then finally Andy, shoulders sagging, turned his back to us.

"He's gonna do it!" the schoolgirl shrieked in delight.

Then, to my astonishment, Andy did. I watched my brother take hold of his waistband and hurriedly yank his underpants just below his butt cheeks. Just as quickly, he pulled them back up.

"That wasn't long enough!" declared Mia instantly. "Andrea, did you think that was long enough?"

"No way," I quickly assented.

"And they weren't down far enough," added Mia. "He needs to lower them to his knees and leave them there until I say he can pull them back up."

Andy, still with his back to us, hesitated, motionless. Then, much to our delight, he submitted. Hooking his thumbs inside his waistband, he lowered his underpants further—this time to mid-thigh, leaving his smooth little butt completely exposed. The three of us leaned in, feasting our eyes.

I have to admit, I was becoming a bit titillated—just because I was looking at a bare bum, but by the fact that it was Andy, exposed before three girls against his will and burning with shame.

"Oh my God, this is awesome!" the schoolgirl shrieked, clapping her hands in delight.

"Doesn't he have a cute little bum?" Mia said, as we all admired the view. “I can’t decide if it’s more like a baby’s bum or a girly bum.”

"Let's go with a baby girl's bum," I said, and all three of us laughed.

The girl edged closer, squinting with her hands on her knees. “Can he wiggle it?” she asked, giggling.

Mia grinned. “Andy, give us a little wiggle,” she commanded.

“No way!” Andy protested, voice desperate.

“Oh come on, just a little shake,” Mia insisted. “Or do you want us to tell Miss Prescott you were uncooperative?”

Andy groaned, but gave his hips a quick, embarrassed little wiggle. We burst into fresh giggles.

"Are you going to make him turn around?" the schoolgirl asked hopefully, hungry for more.

That made Andy tense up. Mia was already slowly sneaking up on him in hopes of getting a glimpse of his front. But Andy saw her coming out of the corner of his eye, and he hastily yanked up his underpants before Mia got a look.

“Knock it off!” he shouted, whirling around, his cheeks nearly purple. “That’s enough!”

Andy didn’t wait for a response. He turned and marched toward the bathroom, and Mia and I quickly caught him and grabbed his hands again.

The schoolgirl turned and skipped away—literally—in the other direction, giggling freely. I'm sure she couldn't wait to tell her friends about her extraordinary, serendipitous experience.

Indeed—if you'll allow me to fast-forward momentarily—I witnessed a scene a couple of days later that made me laugh out loud. During morning recess, I saw the same girl with two friends, animatedly pointing at Andy as he sat hunched on a bench, alone. I'm sure she was saying something along the lines of, “That’s the boy who was in his underpants in the hallway, and we made him show us his bare bottom!” Andy looked up, took in the scene, turned bright red, jumped up and walked briskly away. The girls were laughing heartily as Andy disappeared around the corner.

Word spread fast, and his humiliating ordeal became common knowledge. For the rest of the school year, he quite often had to endure knowing looks of amusement from kids he didn't even know.

* * * * * *

When we finally reached the boys’ bathroom, Mia went right back to her devilish ways. She turned to Andy and cooed, “Do you want us to hold your underpanties for you while you do your wee-wees?” She leaned in, lowering her voice: “You already have a little yellow stain where your little bump is.” She pointed, making sure he—and I—both looked. “I’m sure you wouldn’t want to make it worse.”

Fed up, Andy jerked his hands from ours and darted into the bathroom. We followed close behind, which clearly wasn’t what he expected.

"Hey!" he yelled. "You can't come in here!"

"And who's going to stop us?" asked Mia. "Certainly not a boy in his underpanties."

Andy stood there for a moment, clearly unsure what to do. Ultimately, he decided to get it over with and headed straight for a urinal. Of course, Mia and I followed, standing on either side of him as he glanced nervously between us.

"Please, just... just go away!" he pleaded.

"No," answered Mia, "We need to see you do your wee-wees so we can give Miss Prescott a good report."

"I'll do it," replied Andy. "Just let me... let me do it alone."

"Nope," responded Mia. "We're not leaving until you do your wee-wees, so you best just get it done."

Andy, cheeks flaming, fumbled with his fly. We both rose on tiptoe, peering over his shoulders to try and sneak a glimpse, much to his anxiety.

“Just go away!” he pleaded again, trying to nudge us back with his elbows.

But we weren't going anywhere. Andy leaned his torso as far forward as he could, hugging the urinal so we couldn't see him do his business—or more accurately, so we couldn't see his penis.

"Don't you want us to see your pee-pee?" Mia teased. She turned to me. “I don’t know about you, Andrea, but I’d like to see Andy’s pee-pee.”

"No! Go away!" Andy blurted, panic in his voice.

"I don't think Andy wants us to see his pee-pee," I said. "He's very shy. And honestly, I get the impression it’s on the small side, so it would be very embarrassing for him if anyone saw it.”

“Not only that,” Mia added, “I’m betting he doesn’t even have any hair down there yet. If he’s got a small pee-pee and no hair, that’s pretty embarrassing. So it makes sense that he doesn't want us to see it."

"One hundred percent," I said.

"I do have hair!" Andy shot back defensively. Whether he was telling the truth, I couldn’t say—but I doubted it.

"I do want to see it," said Mia. "Maybe Andy can do a little peep show for us when he's done with his wee-wees."

"No way!" said Andy, who was cringing throughout our dialog. We giggled and then stood quietly for a bit, waiting for Andy to do his thing. Eventually, he groaned, “I can’t go while you’re watching.”

"Okay, we'll turn our heads away and just listen," Mia said. "You're not letting us see anything anyway."

While we turned away and grinned at each other, we waited. Almost a full minute elapsed before we finally heard the soft tinkle of Andy's pee hitting the porcelain.

“He did it!” Mia cheered. “Whoo-hoo! Good boy, Andy!” She patted him on his butt, and we both applauded lustily. I grinned with amusement while noticing the back of Andy's neck turning red.

Andy finished up, turned, and started for the door. Instinctively, Mia and I checked his underpants—and, sure enough, a fresh wet spot had joined the original yellow stain.

“Andy!” Mia cried, pointing. “What’s the matter with you? You must have put your little pee-pee back inside before you finished your wee-wees!”

Andy tried to sidestep her, but Mia blocked his path, reaching for his waistband. “We need to clean you up before we go back. You’ll have to take these off.”

And that's when all hell broke loose. Andy shoved Mia aside and dashed for the exit. But Mia was quick—she caught him by the back of his underpants and yanked hard. Andy twisted, fighting to break free, but Mia held on tight and started tugging his underpants down. Andy had already demonstrated that exposing his precious privates to us might be the last thing on earth he was willing to do, and at that moment he was well aware that he was perilously close to that very outcome.

He reached back and grabbed Mia's arm, wrenching it back and forth in hopes that she would loosen her grip on his underpants. But she held on tenaciously and continued her efforts to pull downward. Andy's best answer to that was to drop his body in the same direction Mia was pulling, and in a matter of moments they were both grappling on the floor. For a second, it was absolute chaos—Andy writhing, Mia refusing to let go, both fighting for control of his underpants. He clutched desperately at the waistband with one hand and shielded himself with the other, knowing he was teetering on the edge of total exposure.

“Let go!” Andy shrieked, doing everything he could to keep his underpants up.

"Help me get these off, Andrea!" Mia shouted, giggling as they continued to tussle on the floor. "I want to see Andy naked!"

Up to that point I had been a very interested spectator. But Mia snapped me into action, and I dove into the fray.

Now, if you had told me at the beginning of the day that I would be on the floor with Mia in the boys' bathroom trying to separate Andy from his underpants, I would have told you that you have the wildest imagination of anyone I have ever met. But there I was, giggling freely on the bathroom floor while Andy fought furiously to maintain what modesty he had remaining. With my help we managed to get his underpants down to his knees. Andy was facing away, one hand covering his package, the other yanking up on his waistband for dear life.

“Stop it! Let go!” Andy wailed, but Mia was relentless.

"Help me pull his hand away, so we can see!" Mia urged.

I did so, and at one point we actually did manage to pull his hand away. But Andy immediately twisted around, rolling himself over before either of us had a chance to catch a glimpse. He was face down on the bathroom floor, yanking his underpants partly up while batting us away.

“Turn him over!” Mia shouted, and we both tried, but Andy fought back fiercely.

For us it was a comical scene. While Andy frantically fought to keep us from turning him over, the two of us were laughing hysterically. Mia was pulling up on his hips while I pulled on his arm. At one point we managed to get him onto his side, but he immediately curled up, shielding himself.

In the end, I think it was our own laughter and giddy excitement that doomed our attempt to strip Andy’s underpants off—or at least sneak a peek at his little goodies. That, and Andy’s resoluteness.

Fueled by pure desperation, he managed to wrench himself free from our grasp. He scrambled to his feet, yanked his underpants back into place, and made a beeline for the door. Mia lunged for his ankle and was dragged a few feet before Andy shook her loose. Then he was gone, the slap of his bare feet echoing throughout the hallway as he sprinted away.

We scrambled up and chased after him, giggling so hard we could barely run, watching him scamper down the hallway like his hair was on fire.

Andy was always a fast runner—and again, his motivation probably gave him an extra step—so we couldn’t catch him. At the classroom door, he paused and peeked around, as if weighing his options and briefly considering escape. I think his state of undress decided it for him. With a resigned sigh, he disappeared inside.

If he had any idea what was in store for him the rest of the day at the hands of the debauched Miss Prescott, he most assuredly would have taken a different course.

[Blondie]

Chapter 7: The Spandex

Andy had just entered the classroom, and Mia and I trailed a few steps behind. I reached the door first, and as I opened it, we caught Andy already pleading his case to Miss Prescott.

"They came into the boys' bathroom!," he was saying breathlessly. "They're not allowed in there. And then—they tried to take off my underpants!”

Before stepping in, I glanced back at Mia with a worried look on my face.

"I'll handle this," she said calmly.

When we walked in, Andy stood at the front of the class facing Miss Prescott, both hands clamped protectively over the front of his underpants. Miss Prescott looked over Andy's shoulders and addressed us.

"Andrew tells me you tried to take off his underpanties. Is that true, girls?"

"Yes, Miss Prescott, that is true," Mia replied, much to my surprise. "But we were only trying to teach him a lesson. The little brat pulled down his own underpants—I mean, his underpanties—” she added with a giggle, “and flashed his bare bottom to us, right there in the hallway. We felt it was a sign of disrespect—not just to us, but to you as well. So we told him, ‘Fine, if you want to flash us, take off your underpanties.’ He refused, so we tried to help him along. He fought back, broke away, and, well—here we are.”

I don't think Miss Prescott bought that story for a second, judging by the smirk on her face. But it didn't matter, because it was pretty apparent that she was quite enjoying Andy's torment, and it gave her more ammunition to carry it out further. And of course, Mia sensed that, which is why she was so confident in her approach.

I love her!

Meanwhile, Andy was so stunned by Mia’s little spiel that he just stood there, wide-eyed, his mouth hanging open.

"Is that true, Mr. Cunningham?" asked Miss Prescott. "Did you really pull down your underpanties in the hallway and expose your bare bottom to Mia and Andrea?"

"Y-Yes, but—" Andy stammered "But they made—"

"No buts!" Miss Prescott interrupted authoritatively while pointing one finger at him. “I’ve had quite enough of your impertinence today!”

She paused, while seemingly trying to decide what steps to take next. She looked at us. "Girls, thank you for your help with Andrew. I'm sorry he made things so difficult for you. You may take your seats."

Mia and I strutted back to our seats, grins plastered across our faces. I sat down and fixed my eyes on the twosome in the front of the room, eager to see what Miss Prescott had in store for my beleaguered brother.

Miss Prescott regarded Andy, who stood with slumped shoulders and his hands clutching the little bulge in his underpants. "As for you, young man..."

“Please, Miss Pres—” Andy tried, voice trembling, but she cut him off immediately.

“You are not to speak unless I tell you to. Is that clear?” she said sharply. Andy nodded his head dismally. "Your behavior has certainly warranted further discipline," Miss Prescott declared. She paused and stared at him, appearing like she was deep in thought. "I'll have to think about a proper punishment to apply after the lunch hour."

She folded her arms, considering him. “In the meantime, I’d planned to spare you the embarrassment of going outside for lunch with your classmates, but I’ve changed my mind.”

She let that sit there for a moment while there were gasps of surprise (and delight!) emanating from the students, while the look of horror on Andy's face is all one needed to know about how he felt at that moment.

"The problem is," she continued, "I can't let you go out there like that. But you’re not getting your clothes back before the end of the day. Therein lies the dilemma.” Again she paused while mulling that over. "What to do... what to do..."

After a few moments her face lit up as if she suddenly had a revelation. "I've got it!" she announced. "I have just the thing for you. I'll be right back. My bag is in the teachers' lounge." She started toward the door, then turned back. “On second thought, you can come with me, Andrew. We’ll get you dressed in the lounge, and then you can come back and show off your new outfit for your classmates.” She paused in the doorway while Andy stood dumbfounded. "Now!" she commanded, and the apprehensive Andy quite reluctantly followed her out—bare feet, tighty-whities, and all—back into the hallway and toward whatever fresh humiliation awaited him.

* * * * *

When the door closed, there was quite a commotion in the room. We were all excited, and it seemed like everyone was talking at once. I spun in my seat to face Mia.

"You saved us!" I said. "I don't know how you come up with this stuff," I said admiringly.

Miss Prescott is clearly relishing the opportunity with Andy

Mia just shrugged. "It was easy. Miss Prescott is clearly relishing having Andy like this. All I had to do was give her a reason to punish him. She took the bait. Well, I don't think she believed any of it, but that's not our problem."

"I don't either," I laughed. "Poor Andy was like a sacrificial lamb."

Mia leaned closer, her eyes dancing. “I know, right? Think about it—we humiliate the shit out of him by making him pull down his underpants for that girl, then he gets in deeper trouble with Miss Prescott for pulling down his underpants. Isn't the irony of that just wickedly funny?"

Well, at least for us it must have been very funny, because both of us broke into near-hysterical laughter, barely able to catch our breath for almost a minute.

"Ohhh," I said as my laughter started to die down. "What do you think she'll make him wear? The girls' uniform?"

“That’s my guess,” Mia replied, grinning. “But with her, you never know. She could have something else up her sleeve."

“Oh my goodness. It must really suck to be Andy right now,” I said with a chuckle.

"That might be the understatement of the year," Mia snorted. "And we still have a few hours left. I think it might get even worse for him, the way Miss Prescott is acting."

"I think you might be right," I said with a hopeful grin.

* * * * *

The door swung open and, in an instant, the classroom fell silent. We all looked on in eager anticipation. A few moments went by with no one appearing. I think Miss Prescott was holding the door open for Andy, but apparently he was quite reluctant to step inside. We would soon find out the reason why.

“Come on,” we heard Miss Prescott urge. “You go in first.”

There was silence for a spell before we heard her speak again. "I know this will be embarrassing for you, but you are going to go in there. You might as well just get it over with. Now march to the front of the room, face your classmates and wait for me. And keep your hands by your sides. Don't you dare try to cover up the little bulge in your new outfit."

Tittering broke out around the room. Mia put a finger to her lips and shushed everyone—she didn’t want to miss a word, and neither did I.

“If you don’t walk in right now,” Miss Prescott warned, voice rising, “I’ll just take this off and you can walk in there stark naked. Would you like to do that?"

There were more titters, and that was okay, because Miss Prescott needed to say no more, as the threat of stripping him naked seemed to do the trick. Within a few seconds my brother shuffled through the door, stopped dead center, and turned to face us. Laughter erupted at the sight: A thirteen-year-old boy, mortified, dressed in a pink, long-sleeved, scoop-necked leotard with matching ballet slippers.

At first, his face perfectly matched the light pink color of his leotard. As he stood there enduring the laughter, that pink changed to dazzling scarlet red. I glanced back at Mia and saw that she shared my open-mouthed glee. I turned back and relished the sight of Andy in his shame clothing, embarrassed to the max. The leotard was quite tight, form fitting. I'm pretty sure the material was part spandex, considering the way it clung to his slim physique.

And that's why Andy was fighting with his every being to obey Miss Prescott's warning not to cover up his little bulge. He stood with his hands rigidly at his sides, as if an invisible force kept him from covering himself. Every muscle in his legs and arms was taut. He shifted uncomfortably, tugging at the leotard—it rode high up his thighs—but it was to no avail. Every time he tried to stretch it lower, it would snap right back up, leaving his thighs bare and exposed.

And why was Andy struggling so hard to keep his hands at his sides? Well, let's just say that, although his tighty-whities gave us reason to suspect that his genitals might be on the small side, we couldn’t say for certain. But the spandex leotard left nothing to the imagination. Andy's attributes—well, "shortcomings" is probably a more appropriate word (giggle)—were pretty much on full display. The little bulge was so modest that the spandex almost flattened it, but what was there was unmistakable: the tip of his penis poking out, maybe an inch, and his round little balls outlined perfectly beneath. I know an inch sounds small—and it was—but to be fair, the elasticity of the spandex probably made it look even smaller than it really was. And I had no problem with that. To this day I still giggle when I conjure up the image of the red-faced Andy modeling his feminine attire, with his long, hairless legs, his ballet slippers, and the size and shape of his little goodies outlined for us all to see.

We were not allowed to use our phones while at school, but Mia managed to snap a quick shot before Miss Prescott came back into the room. She sent it to me that night. Here's what it looked like:



Oh, and I found a picture online of the exact same ballet slippers that he had to wear. So cute!



* * * * * *

Miss Prescott lingered in the doorway for a moment, taking in the scene before stepping inside. When she did, Andy’s tighty-whities dangled from the fingertips of her left hand—no doubt intentionally, so we could all see he was no longer wearing them. I’d figured he might have kept them on under the leotard, but clearly that wasn’t the case.

I glanced back at Mia with a wide-eyed grin, which she returned. I knew we were both wondering the same thing: Did she see him naked? The possibility that she did added more spice to the moment for me.

Miss Prescott carried a handbag in her other hand. She strolled past Andy, set the handbag on her desk, and casually tossed his underpants into the bottom drawer, shutting it with a nudge of her foot. Calmly, she reached into her handbag and rummaged for something. After a moment, she looked up at Andy with a sly smile and slowly withdrew a pair of bright pink bunny ears. They were the kind with a headband—this one was white—with the tall pink ears standing straight and pointed.

I’d mentioned before that I’d recently read her book, The Felicity Chronicles: My Exploits as a Humiliator. In it, Miss Prescott—aka Felicity—recounted several instances where she’d used bunny ears to amplify her subjects’ humiliation. She even called it one of her signature trademarks. Clearly, that trademark survived well into adulthood, because Andy was about to become her latest victim.

“I have something else for you to wear, Andrew,” she said, strolling over with a grin and the bunny ears in hand. “This will go beautifully with your pretty little outfit.”

She dangled the ears in front of his face, letting the humiliation seep in before slowly sliding them onto his head with slow, deliberate care.

“Mmm, perfect,” she teased. “Yes, you’ll be my adorable little bunny boy,” she cooed, stepping back to admire her handiwork.

She smiled to herself in satisfaction. The bunny ears had the desired effect, as Andy's face, already crimson, somehow deepened several shades. Our helpless giggling only made it worse.

But the wicked Miss Prescott wasn't finished. She went back to her bag, reached in and pulled out a large, round, fluffy bunny tail, and sauntered up to Andy.

"Turn around for me, please," she told him after making sure he eyed the addition to his humiliating costume.

I relished the scene when Andy turned around. The leotard ran high up his thighs, and the bottom part of his butt cheeks were on display. Andy was quite aware of this, and when he turned around he self-consciously pulled down on the material in an effort to provide as much coverage as possible. Miss Prescott took both of Andy's wrists and pulled them away without a word. To my delight the material immediately sprang back.

Miss Prescott meticulously affixed the bunny tail at the small of Andy's back with a couple of safety pins, while Andy stood there miserably while listening to the tittering behind him.

"Perfect!" declared Miss Prescott as she gave the exposed skin of his backside a playful pat. "Easter is coming soon, so you can be our lovely little Easter bunny for the next hour."

She spun Andy back around, stepping back to survey her work.

“Oh, Andrew... if only you could see yourself. Such a shame there’s no mirror in here.”

She snapped her fingers as an idea struck her, went to her desk, and grabbed her phone. She positioned herself a few feet in front of Andy, camera at the ready.

"Smile, my little bunny boy," she said, snapping a picture.

There wasn't anything close to a smile emerging from Andy, but undeterred, she snapped another, and then, circling behind, took one from the rear. Finally, she knelt in front and zoomed right in on the crotch of his leotard.

Oh, my!

“Lovely,” she purred as she took the close-up.

The sadistic substitute stood up and tapped her phone a few times, then held it up for Andy to see.

"What do you think, Andrew?" she asked. "Don't you make a lovely bunny?"

Andy took a quick glance at the picture before averting his eyes. Miss Prescott swiped to another image. “What do you see here, Andrew?” she asked.

Andy looked at the picture and winced without responding.

“I asked you a question, Andrew,” she pressed.

"It's... it's a picture of... of the... the outfit," he mumbled.

“Yes, but be more specific,” Miss Prescott insisted. “It’s a close-up of your...” She waited, palm open, for him to finish.

"Of my... my front."

"Again, that is too broad. Your 'front' implies your whole front side. This is focused on something in particular. What is it?” she prompted, holding the phone out for him to study.

"My... penis," he reluctantly replied, drawing laughter from his classmates.

"Good!" she praised. "And what else?"

"My... please, I don't know what you—"

"The small roundish protrusion below your penis," she interrupted.

"Oh... my... my testicles," he said shamefacedly as a fresh wave of laughter erupted.

"Indeed," answered Miss Prescott. "And what can you tell us about your penis and testicles?"

Oh, my goodness! Had I read her book before that day, I would have known she had no limits when it came to humiliation. Not having read her book, I was appropriately openmouthed.

"I don't... I don't know," said the flustered and thoroughly mortified Andy.

"Tell us about the size. Do you think the size of your penis is normal? Bigger than normal? Smaller?"

"Please, I... I don't know," said Andy, who apparently was not at all interested in characterizing his genitals for us.

"Okay," said Miss Prescott. "If you're not going to cooperate, maybe one of your classmates will."

She looked out at the class, already knowing exactly who she’d pick. "Mia, will you please come up here and help us out?"

"No! Okay, I can tell you!" Andy yelped anxiously.

But he was too late. Mia bolted from her chair and in no time flat she was standing beside Miss Prescott, facing Andy. She looked at Andy and grinned, then addressed the teacher.

"How can I help, Miss Prescott?" she asked eagerly.

"Well, I asked Mr. Cunningham to describe the size of his penis—it’s far easier to see in the leotard than it was in his underpanties—but he wasn't very helpful. Maybe you can have a good look at it and enlighten us."

“I’ll be happy to!” Mia chirped—and I had zero doubt she meant it.

She dropped into a squat, bringing herself eye-level and just inches away from her subject matter.

"Hmm," she mused, staring intently at the small bulge in Andy's leotard. “There’s really... not much there,” she concluded, drawing a round of laughter from behind her—and a visible wince from Andy. She stood up and looked at Miss Prescott.

"To be honest," Mia continued, "I've really only seen one penis in my life, so I don't have a lot to compare it to. It was my brother's penis, and I can definitely say his wasn't quite as small as Andy's." She paused and let the giggling die down. Then, with a sly grin on her face she looked Andy in the eye and delivered her punch line: "But it's hard to compare—I haven't seen it since he was eight."

The room erupted in laughter. Mia, quite proud of herself, stepped aside, grinning at her admiring audience. Andy stood there, red as a beet, squirming but unable to escape the spotlight.

"Thank you, Mia," Miss Prescott chuckled. "Would you like to comment on what you see below his little penis?"

"You mean these little things right here?" Mia said, reaching out and tickling his balls with her fingers.

“AAGGH!” Andy squeaked, surging to his tiptoes.

"They're like little cherries," Mia laughed, withdrawing her hand.

“Thank you, Mia, you can return to your seat,” Miss Prescott said, smiling.

While Mia waltzed back to her seat, Miss Prescott again turned to her wretched victim. "Now, Mr. Cunningham, let me ask you again. What can you tell us about your penis?" Andy opened his mouth, but nothing came out. "Shall I have Andrea come up here and help us out?" she asked.

"No! It's... it's small," Andy admitted, voice barely audible.

"What is small?"

"My penis," he muttered, staring at the floor.

"It is, indeed!" Miss Prescott bellowed. "It's such a cute little thing. I think we should name it, don't you?"

"Please, I... that's not necessary," replied Andy boldly.

"Oh, but it's special. I think it deserves a name," Miss Prescott insisted. She stared at the outline in his leotard for a moment, then said, "I've got it! Let's name it 'Little Andy'."

Laughter thundered through the classroom. When it died down, Miss Prescott addressed the room. "From now on, when we refer to your penis, we'll call it 'Little Andy.' Shall we?" Andy nodded his head in resignation. "Good. Now let me hear you say it. What is your penis's name?"

"L-Little Andy," he choked, eyes on the floor.

"Good, Andrew. Class, what is this called?" Miss Prescott pointed directly at Andy's crotch with one hand, palm open to the class with the other.

"LITTLE ANDY!" we shouted in unison, far louder than necessary and with considerable merriment.

To this day, I don’t know how my brother survived such excruciating humiliation. And with three hours left in the school day, I knew there would be plenty more to come. After all, Miss Prescott’s appetite for humiliation clearly knew no bounds.

I look forward to telling you more about My Favorite Day Ever when I get a chance.