The Last Straw (new 5/12)

[flashharry]

Thank you for the latest episode.

I did pity the poor girl being led to portable toilets, particularly barefoot. Letting her have a walk on the grass to make her feet feel a cleaner would be considerate, but will she even be able to ask?
It also made me wonder what little miss perfect's mother will think if she knows Bea is sporting that arrow. What does it suggest?

[Freesub]

CLIFFHANGERSSSS!!!

Excellent going though, I love the piece by piece dissection of her modesty neverdoubted

[Somebody]

Incredible. Great chapter. I have to appreciate the period accuracy of the unpopularity of any food with flavor in it, lol. It's almost too bad it was a portable toilet, though, because if it were a normal bathroom, one could say she was stalling.. in a stall. I'll be here all week.
No, but this was necessary so he could pound on the door. I get it.

[neverdoubted]

Incredible. Great chapter. I have to appreciate the period accuracy of the unpopularity of any food with flavor in it, lol. It's almost too bad it was a portable toilet, though, because if it were a normal bathroom, one could say she was stalling.. in a stall. I'll be here all week.
No, but this was necessary so he could pound on the door. I get it.

There is another reason. Regular bathrooms have mirrors which means she still hasn't seen how bad it really is yet.

[student]

First, a heart. Now an arrow. Anticipating the next reveal is keeping me up nights!

That's Entertainment!

[neverdoubted]

I didn't know I was staring until Bea lowered the tray to her waist and my line of sight to her pubic arrow was broken.

Drawing my tongue, which had been hanging out of my mouth mid-lick, back inside, I closed my gaping jaw. Recovering somewhat, I tugged on her hand to resume the parade. But there were so many questions swirling around in my head. I didn't know where to begin.

Bea had an arrow growing on her abdomen. Correction - she had shaved an arrow into her abdomen on purpose. Two sisters. There's no way this could be an accident. First a heart, and now an arrow. But why?

While I couldn't fathom what would possess the girl to take such a stupid risk, it was obviously somehow connected to her sister's equally reckless body modification. Mary could have shed some light on the subject. But because she wasn't around, I would have to hold my questions for later. And what about Cindy? Surely not!

As we reached the edge of the current building, Bea scrambled off the tarmac and onto the blessed grass that grew between the hangars. Relieved that she could finally rest, she sucked in gulps of air and moved the tray as low as possible on her abdomen.

Using the pause to feed her another bite of pretzel, I took a sip of my drink then picked up my corn dog. I was supposed to be eating it all this time but had forgotten about it when her arrow was revealed. With no reason to tarry, I tugged on her arm to keep us moving. I could walk and chew at the same time. Walk and chew and ponder her unusual pubic decoration.

I knew plenty of teenage girls who dotted their i's with cute little hearts or doodled them in the margins of their notebooks. To trim your pubic hair into a heart shape, while certainly unorthodox, could have been interpreted as just a relatively innocent bodily embellishment.

But to make an arrow that is pointed directly at your sex is much more direct and explicit. As if her totally naked body wasn't suggestive enough, the well-built teen was also walking around with a sign above her budding flower that basically said, "Insert Here"!

As my fertile imagination kicked into overdrive, my cock surged to attention even as my cheeks grew warm in a sympathy blush. I was tempted to feel sorry for the poor girl...until I remembered how mean she had been to me leading up to the fateful events of that morning. Her own actions had led her every step of the way to this humiliating punishment. And it wasn't my fault she had turned her virgin body into a lewd, living billboard for sex.

I finished my corn dog and washed it down with the last of my soda just as we were approaching hangar eleven. My beleaguered companion initiated what she hoped would be her last lewd dancing display of the day as we walked hand in hand toward the back entrance. No matter what awaited her inside, she had to assume it better than remaining in the humiliation spotlight out here.

Stopping next to a trash can near the entrance, I threw my things away. Then I took the tray from her and returned it to a rack next to the trash receptacle. After having her sex blowing in the breeze for the past fifteen minutes, I was hoping Bea would accept her new state of total exposure as inevitable and not regress once the tray - her last form of covering - was taken from her. But watching her immediately snap her newly freed hand back over both her fuzzy arrow and her privates told me I still had work to do when it came to her relationship to modesty.

Out of breath, the naked girl eyed the hangar door and tugged me gently towards it. But planting my feet, I instead pointed to a sign that forbid taking food inside the hangar and explained, "we can't go in until you've finished your lunch."

Reaching over, I tore the last of the pretzel in two and used the moan of dismay she let out to shove a huge bite in her mouth. Smiling, I dipped the rest of it in cheese and finished it off for her.

As if the dancing girl didn't already have enough to worry about, I quickly picked up her corn dog and shoved it into the hand she was using to maintain her feminine modesty. While she reluctantly curled her fingers around the stick, she kept her fist between her legs where it could do the most good. If she realized how ridiculous she looked, holding a corn dog down there in a very phallic way, she would have died from shame. But it was the only way she could keep her privates covered and hold her lunch at the same time.

To make matters worse, just then, a teen boy emerged from the hangar and skidded to a halt right in front of us. Bea took one look at him and, with her red cheeks bulging, sounded a muffled alarm. While I am not qualified to judge another boy on his looks, based on her reaction, Bea clearly found him cute.

I didn't have to guess how the boy felt about the beautiful, naked teenager shuffling in place with her buoyant breasts bared and bouncing. Gaping in awe of her nude performance, his eyes grew wider and wider, and his jaw dropped. I half expected his irises to form into little hearts and pop out of his head like a cartoon character.

If Bea were a boy, it would look like she was sporting an especially thick erection and cradling it in her right hand. Her only saving grace was that, with her healthy breasts jiggling and all her feminine curves on full display, she was at no real risk of being mistaken for a boy anytime soon.

Shrinking bashfully beneath his probing gaze, she instinctively tried to raise her other arm to gain a little more coverage for her acutely exposed body. But I just gripped her hand harder to remind her that her stalling antics back at the outhouse had cost her the privilege of hiding her growing chest from the world.

He was wearing a scouting uniform. I looked jealously at the gleaming medal above his breast pocket that identified him as an eagle scout. Because that medal takes years to acquire and he had to have been scouting for a while, I put his age above mine. That he was just the type of boy Bea would normally be attracted to and try to flirt with only added to her humiliation.

Within seconds, a noticeable bulge appeared in his front. Having been wrestling to contain my own erection for four days now, I knew exactly how he felt. But while I had the benefit of a loose tee shirt to hide mine, the tucked shirt and neatly cinched belt of his uniform gave his swelling penis no place to go but out.

It's not like he could prevent it. My naked stepsister was giving him an education far beyond anything in his scouting handbooks. And his own body was reacting exactly like one would expect.

Every curve and crevasse she possessed was unlike anything he had encountered before. And as his eyes toured her gleaming body, I recognized the familiar emotions reflected in his face. While boys were full of sharp edges and straight lines, everything about Bea's body had an alluring, rounded shape. And seeing her in all her naked glory excited him to no end. Feeling a similar stirring, and since I was relatively new to the experience, I took this opportunity to follow the boy's lead and take another lap with my own eyes.

Her shoulders - tense but still somehow soft - flowed seamlessly into the graceful slope of her collarbone and upper chest. Her impossibly supple breasts, buoyed by some hidden counterforce, rebounded with every hop she made from foot to foot. And though her pink nipples were stiff and perky, there was nothing sharp about them. They would undoubtedly yield to the slightest pressure.

Her hip bones, though they did jut out slightly on her slender frame, had no harsh edge to them and formed little more than adorable little handles below her waist. Exhibiting an endurance that would make her older sister proud, her completely bared, long-suffering thighs and flexing calves were engaged in their constant, unceasing task of giving her petite, tender feet a respite from the tarmac below. If there were such a thing as a jiggling anatomy badge, she would have earned it multiple times over by now.

But Bea wasn't the only one whose anatomy was trying its hardest to earn a badge. Watching the pyramid in the boy's shorts form into a respectable size, I had to chuckle. Pitching tents is one of the first things a scout learns. But I'm pretty sure the handbook doesn't say anything about pitching tents in your shorts! Since Bea had helped him earn that badge in record time, she deserved most of the credit.

As soon as she swallowed the last of her pretzel ball, I lifted the bottle of soda to her mouth and began to tip it. Knowing that if she refused, she would end up with a bottle full of sticky soda cascading down her naked body, she wisely parted her lips and began to drink. When the bottle was empty, I tossed it into the trash behind me and looked back at her expectantly. The pretzel and drinks were gone, she hadn’t finished her lunch yet. I wasn't budging. And the boy, who also hadn't moved a muscle since he arrived, showed no sign of leaving anytime soon.

With her fist trembling, she made a pitiful whimper then slowly lifted the corn dog to her mouth. In the process, her entire pubic mound was revealed. No other indention on her body - not her armpit, or the cricks in her elbows, or her perfectly round belly button - could possibly compare to the parallel petals of tender, puffy flesh that guarded the entrance to her sex.

After glancing back at the doorway, the boy's eyes quickly dropped to take in this mysterious creature's most precious attraction. Looking right at the blond patch of girl-fur gracing her lower abdomen that just so happened to be growing in the shape of an arrow, he paused and tilted his head to one side. As Bea bit off a piece of corn dog and began to chew, I smiled. But the reason for my smile wasn't her current state of utter humiliation or the puzzled expression on the boy's face as he tried to figure out why the shape of her pubic hair did not match his own. Rather, something significant dawned on me just then.

As a boy scout myself, I knew that you rarely went anywhere in your uniform unless you were doing something with your troop. Even if this boy was visiting from somewhere local, he probably wasn't attending the fair all alone. And since eagle scouts were among the oldest members of the troop, they were also natural leaders. Who else might be following in this lucky boy's footsteps?

I got my answer not two seconds later when the door swung open, and another scout charged through the door. Spotting his leader, he opened his mouth to say something. But then he saw my stepsister and his words got stuck. His mouth fell open and refused to work.

Bea flinched as the second scout initiated a visual tour of her blushing body. Swallowing the first mouthful of corn dog, she realized it would take forever if she kept lowering her hand between every bite. So, in the interest of haste, she sacrificed trying to keep her body hidden and just focused on eating as fast as she could.

But she wasn't fast enough. This apparently their designated meeting spot, the number of scouts soon swelled into a full troop of about twelve. Forming a circle around us, they found the jiggling naked teen inexplicably eating a corn dog to be the best attraction by far.

The eagle scout looked to be the oldest while others ranged down in age to around eleven or twelve. As they gazed in awe at Bea's exhibition, I could practically see the brains of the older ones rewiring to form a new value system. Suddenly the endless badges they had been pursuing all these years felt meaningless next to the budding femininity on display before them. Something told me that many of them would decide they were done with scouting after today. From now on, they would only pursue one thing...girls.

An older man who was obviously the troop leader eventually emerged from the hangar. When he ordered the boys to attention and they did not respond, he barged into the crowd, barking out, "Troop, fall in and form up!"

That got their attention. Scrambling into a forward-facing line, the boys stood at attention. With his troop back under control, the irritated man spun on us and demanded to know what was going on. Because Bea was still busy finishing up her last bite, I had to respond on our behalf. But I did it a little too flippantly.

Holding in a smirk, I said, "she has a condition...can't be helped, I'm afraid."

With a scowl, he turned his stare straight at me.

"What do you mean? What kind of condition?" he asked.

Clearly, this man did not share his troop's enthusiasm for Bea's lack of attire. That's when I noticed his clerical collar. Sensing that I needed to take this confrontation more seriously, I gulped. I wasn't about to tell him the truth.

Well, she's a chronic pain in her stepfather's ass. I mean, behind - pardon my French - and she pushed him past his breaking point. As punishment, she will now be spending the rest of our family vacation completely naked.

Wisely, I took a different approach with my response. And because my time with Mary had given me plenty of practice, I was brimming with confidence. Standing up a little straighter and puffing out my chest, I channeled Frank.

"I apologize for the commotion, father. We didn't mean to cause a scene."

The man's eyes narrowed. He wasn't interested in apologies. He wanted an explanation for why this young woman was out here corrupting the innocence of his troop. Since a priest would be just the type to appreciate an appeal to a higher authority, I handed him the special passes that the employee had given us.

"We're just here to see and participate like everyone else and have every right to be here."

While he was reading the paperwork, I reached over and took the empty corn dog stick from Bea's hand - giving her a genial smile to acknowledge her job well done with lunch. Still shuffling her hot feet, the naked girl dropped her head in defeat. With the last of her resistance drained, she didn't even bother covering her privates again but just let her free hand hang at her side.

When he had finished reading the paperwork, the man glanced at Bea before politely averting his gaze lest he be accused of intruding on the young lady's privacy amid her difficult, unspecified condition.

With a sigh, he held it out the passes and said, "All right, just go."

With a stiff nod, I took the paperwork and led Bea past the line of scouts. Following the priest’s lead, they also tried to avert their gaze. But most couldn’t resist the temptation to turn their heads and marvel one last time at the naked girl as she passed. As we were walking into the building, I heard the man mutter to himself, "first the statues, and now this. God help us!"

[Freesub]

The dam is broken! Let the Bea nudity show flow!

[student]

Bea will soon learn that one naked girl gets everybody's attention, but multiple naked girls overwhelm the audience.

Fortunately for Frankie, Bea is too mortified to realize this and use it to her advantage.

[neverdoubted]

I'm also interested in Cindy's reactions, which are growing darker. Eventually, Cindy is going to say or do something important. What the results of that thing are, and whether or not they result in a naked Cindy, I don't know.

I think there have been enough hints by now to guess where this is headed re: Cindy. The only question now is how...

[neverdoubted]

Escorting Bea inside and waiting for my eyes to adjust to the dim interior, I smiled to see only men and boys everywhere I looked. Because hangar eleven was a construction pavilion, it attracted just the type of crowd I had hoped it would. Just the type to maximize my stepsister’s humiliation.

To my mild surprise, she had a subdued reaction to being the only female in a sea of testosterone. The journey here coupled with her boy scout encounter seemed to have exhausted her will to keep fighting for modesty. I wasn’t sure whether she had truly surrendered that battle or was just relieved not to be dancing on the hot pavement in front of a bunch of keenly interested teen boys anymore. Releasing her hand to see how she would react to a little autonomy, I was pleased when she lowered it to her side rather than try to cover anything with it.

Not bothering to give her time to adjust to this new environment, I turned at once and headed toward the exhibits. I didn't have to guess if my naked companion was following in my wake. The surprised looks on the faces of the people I passed told me everything I needed to know.

Most of the attractions in this hangar were oversized. A suspension bridge spanned high above us while massive construction equipment filled the center arena. Monsters of metal. The machines that built America.

It was a self-congratulatory excuse to celebrate American ingenuity. But the hangar also did a decent job showing off how many modern construction methods had their roots in ancient principles.

One exhibit, for example, was a special kind of cement that could set underwater. I assumed that kind of impossible invention could only have come from the minds of our brightest chemists using state-of-the-art techniques. But as I read the plaque, I learned to my astonishment that the formula was actually discovered buried in an ancient catacomb beneath Constantinople.

Another exhibit showed a model of a crane that could lift itself floor to floor as a skyscraper was being built. Once again, I was shocked to learn that the invention was hardly new. Leonardo DaVinci had invented it hundreds of years earlier. Only his was water powered!

I paid little attention to the naked girl I was towing along behind me. But while I was enraptured by the exhibits and spent most of my time appreciating the marvels laid before me, the other patrons spent most of theirs admiring the magnificent construction of my stepsister's body.

Whenever I did turn to look at her, her hands would start to move upward - as if whatever tattered bits that remained of her old self were trying to reform and summon the sense of shame that should result from her stepbrother seeing her naked. But beyond that twitch of her hands, nothing else came of it.

Our trip through the construction hall was not completely without incident. Since the dawn of time, man had looked for ways to make their houses and buildings survive the elements. From floods to blizzards to hurricanes and tornadoes, creative techniques had to be deployed to withstand the worst of mother nature's wrath.

An entire quadrant of the hall dealt with weather. And within that section, a station had been set up to demonstrate various magnitudes of the Richter Scale. Fascinated, I stepped onto the first platform which represented the mildest earthquake. Feeling a gentle vibration beneath my feet, I smiled and turned to Bea. She was looking up at me with that blank neutral expression which I wasn't yet accustomed to seeing on her.

"You have to try this," I insisted, stepping off the platform to let her have a go.

I braced for resistance. But she merely stepped carefully onto the square without arguing and waited for something to happen. When I pushed the button to start the machine vibrating, her eyes went wide, and she immediately reached for the grab bar to steady herself.

Seeing a blush spread onto her cheeks as she started to squirm, I sensed right away that something significant was happening. I thought at first that she was embarrassed to be standing on a raised platform where even more people could look at her.

But when her eyes started fluttering, I was prompted to look closer. Gleefully tracing my way down her naked body, I found her bare soles braced firmly against the vibrating platform. Her unusual reaction, I concluded, had more to do with her lack of shoes than her lack of clothes.

When she made a soft gasp and arched her back subtly, my eyes were drawn to her prominent chest. Her perky globes, which had spent the whole journey here bouncing up and down, were now thrust out magnificently. No man-made marvel could possibly compete with such an erotic presentation as the naked female form. I looked on in awe as, within seconds, her pale pink nipples hardened into prominent points.

For me, the quaking had been little more than a nifty experience. But Bea's much stronger reaction got me thinking things I had never considered before.

Ever since I started puberty, I viewed girls as merely a conduit for my own personal enjoyment. The time I had spent today with my naked stepsister, for example, would feed my fantasies for ages to come. And with my erection throbbing insistently in my shorts, I would be more than ready to start reaping the benefits of those collected fantasies as soon as I got some alone time.

But girls were people too. And something peculiar was happening to this one. Something about the way she looked at that moment made a strange question pop into my head. Do girls get…aroused?

I had obviously never seen one in such a state and didn't know what signs to look for, but logic told me they surely do. If so, how exactly would something like that work? I knew how to relieve the pressure on my own body - I had been doing it regularly for over a year and a half. If I were naked and got turned on, everyone around me would immediately know it. But what about girls? Curious, I traced my eyes down Bea's flat tummy and followed the direction of her cute little arrow. Her anatomy sloped inward there to converge on a small, triangular gap. The empty space was bordered by her smooth, flexing thighs on two sides. Two tightly pressed petals - made of some of the most enticing flesh known to mankind - filled in the third.

Staring at the profound mystery that is female anatomy, I wondered: if they do get turned on, what do girls do to relieve the pressure with nothing to crank? Though I could study every inch of Bea's naked body, I could not find a single clue.

With more questions than answers, I shrugged and let go of the button that was running the machine. At once, the spell was broken and the naked girl scrambled off the platform.

"You ok?" I asked.

Bowing her head bashfully, she gave a hesitant nod.

"Great," I responded, "let's try the next one!"

She shot me a frightened look and shook her head forcefully. Her cheeks were flushed, and she kept flinching as if phantom quakes were still rippling through the soles of her feet. I might have just stumbled upon something profoundly significant and wanted to perform more experiments to see if larger earthquakes would have a similar effect on her body.

But because the first one had rattled her so, I had mercy on her and let her skip the other machines. I had plenty of fun trying out all the different magnitudes myself. The highest level felt like standing on a bucking bronco! I tried my hardest not to but had to reach for the grab bar on that one. But though none of the machines produced anything resembling an arousal response in me, the lingering image of Bea standing flat-footed in that vibrating platform in a frozen pose - her head back, her erect nipples straining toward the sky, and her fluttering eyelids the only part of her still moving - sure gave me a lot to think about.

I was having so much fun that I spent longer than I intended to in the "Mother Nature" section. Bea had a tense look on her face the whole time and did not relax back to her usual, neutral expression until the earthquake machines were safely out of sight. But her nipples took much longer to relax. And even when they softened, they could perk back up to full stiffness in a heartbeat.

That cycle of softness and stiffness continued for the rest of our time in the hangar. I was delighted to learn that, despite being smaller in size, her nipples had the same talent as her big sister's. They were so fascinating that I found it difficult not to stare. I yearned to touch them - to know what something so soft one minute and so stiff the next felt like. But since I had a bath time with Mary scheduled for later that evening, I was content to bide my time. I would find out soon enough!

As the day progressed, Bea's shoulders grew more relaxed. Her expression changed little, and she was exceptionally attentive - followed my lead in every way. And because I was simply checking on her and not panting hungrily or using the occasion to gawk openly at her naked form, I think it reinforced her nudity as a natural state and not something that should concern her.

It was cute the way she followed me around like a lost puppy. But though I stopped to study every exhibit and gained so much knowledge and insight into modern construction techniques, I don't think she learned a single thing.

I never saw her read a single placard or stop to marvel at a clever tool or machine. Every time I checked, she was right there looking straight at me and nothing else. It made sense, in a way. Everything that used to matter to her had literally been stripped away. Naked and alone, she was now utterly dependent on her little stepbrother. Unwillingly cast into the most humiliating day of her life, she only had enough strength left for two things: taking the next step in front of her and not losing sight of her last tether to sanity.

We explored the construction hangar in reverse order and exited through the front entrance. The position of the afternoon sun prompted me to check my watch. Time was running short. We had to be back at the main hangar by four o'clock and only had time for a few more exhibits.

As I led the way to the next hangar, my obedient ward followed right behind me. With the cavernous building to our right casting a large shadow, she could walk normally and didn't have to dance the whole way.

"After this one," I announced, when we reached the next entrance, "we'll need to head back."

Bea did not react or answer. She just stood there blankly and waited for me to do something. When I entered the hangar and felt the cooler air wash over me, I immediately turned to see how her body would react to it. It did not disappoint. A sexy shiver rippled down from her shoulders and her nipples grew into cute little peaks. How could a person ever get tired of that?

This hangar catered to a more diverse audience than eleven had, and there were more complete families here. With the hour growing late and people heading for the exits, we found ourselves once again going against the flow. Bea's disruptive presence drew plenty of attention. But I just set my jaw and projected confidence to forge a path through the thinning crowd.

Mothers we passed chided their younger children for staring and shepherded their older sons away from the unbelievable sight of a beautiful, naked teen. Despite the endless sideways glances, Bea did not cover any part of her budding body. She had made more progress on that front than I ever imagined possible – already surpassing her exceptionally shy sister by a wide margin. But the last exhibit we visited illustrated just how fragile that progress was.

We were going through a gallery of optical illusions - many of which I had seen before. Over the near decade following their debut at the World's Fair, time had worn the luster off many of the original exhibits. Growing bored, I saw a sign for something called an "Infinite Corridor” and decided on a whim to make it our last stop.

Turning the corner, I came to a short, brightly lit hallway, no more than ten feet long, lined with floor to ceiling mirrors. I could tell how the illusion was done - if you could even call it that. The mirrors on each wall being perfectly parallel to each other, anything placed inside the hall was replicated endlessly. Thinking it mildly clever, I entered without a second thought, raised my hand to wave at my infinite self and exited the other end.

Only after taking a few steps beyond the installation did I realize my stepsister wasn't right behind me anymore. Backtracking, I found her standing alone in the middle of the corridor staring at...herself. Her face was white as a ghost and her mouth was open wide - as if frozen mid-scream.

She was seeing her reflection for the first time since the start of her nude punishment. More severe than a mere, single reflection, the double wall of mirrors endlessly reflected her utterly naked form from every possible angle!

Coming face to face with what everyone else at the fair had been gawking at all day shook her to her core. I rushed to her side as she looked down in disbelief at her own hands - as if trying to figure out why they hadn’t been protecting her modesty. They had hung uselessly by her side while the most intimate secrets of her growing body were shared with what felt like the entire world.

Sensing her fragile state, I softly uttered a single word.

"...Beatrice."

Her head tilted up at the sound of her name. I could tell I was the last person she wanted to see right now. The weight of everything she had lost was crashing down upon her. And her greatest rival, her stepbrother, had a front-row seat to witness it all.

With a shuddering sob, she wrapped her arms around her body; better late than never. But when the bright lights and infinite reflections vividly illustrated how much of her body was still exposed and she saw how pathetically inadequate her hands were as coverings, she broke down and began to wail.

I stood by as tears filled her eyes and ran down her cheeks. I was smart enough to know this was part of the grieving process. Like Mary before her, Bea had to mourn what she had lost before she could face reality. But Mary had a three-day head start adjusting to living without clothes. Bea was still in the early stages of her journey.

I was willing to give her time, but I also had to get us back to the family meeting point on time. I let her cry for a couple minutes before breaking my silence.

Making a big show of checking my watch even though I knew the time, I said, "we need to get going," with a soft, but impatient voice.

She continued crying with her head bowed and refused to look at or acknowledge me.

A little more insistently, I repeated, "It's after three-thirty and we still have a long way to go to get back. We need to get going."

But she remained where she stood and said nothing in response. Now I was starting to get upset. I could abide her throwing a fit. But if we were late, my father would hold me responsible, even if it was my sobbing stepsister's fault. More importantly, I could not abide the disrespect she was showing by ignoring me.

"If this is how you want to be, fine," I snarled, "You can find your own way back - or stay here, for all I care. But I'm not going to be late because of you. Goodbye, Bea."

Punctuating my point, I spun on my heels and walked smartly away. I reached the end of the corridor and was about to disappear around the far corner when I heard her call out to me.

"F-Frankie, wait!"

I turned around. But the stern look on my face along with my crossed arms made it clear that I would have little patience for stalling tactics.

Shuffling forward with her eyes downcast, the naked girl completed her traversal of the infinitely humiliating corridor. Standing beside me, she raised her face and searched my expression with puffy, frightened eyes. Though she kept one hand firmly clasped over her pubic area, she lowered the other one that had been draped across her chest. Blushing and baring her breasts in the process, she stretched out her trembling arm toward me and asked an unexpected question.

"Hold my hand...p-p-please?"

Seeing her about to be overcome by despair and with her sanity on the brink of collapse, All I could guess was that she must have needed that physical connection to her lifeline to get through this more than she needed a few more square inches of bodily covering.

Willing to oblige, I took her hand in mine and gave it comforting squeeze. Though she continued sniffling, she allowed herself to be led out of the corridor and back through the exhibit. At first, her head was in constant motion - scanning left and right for any sign of an encounter. I could feel her grip tighten and she sucked in her breath whenever we approached someone. The mirrors having given her an acute awareness of other people's perspective, she squirmed under their surprised looks and probing eyes.

Gradually, she re-learned the value of keeping her eyes trained only on me. It was better than having to watch every person we passed discover the spectacle that was her budding body. By the time we got back to the main hangar, her sniffles had subsided and the tears on her cheeks had mostly dried.

We walked hand in hand into the alcove behind the support pillar where Mary was already waiting for us. I hadn't seen her since we split up and seeing her in her sexy cowgirl outfit, I was sad I had missed her day at the fair and wondered how it had played out. But it being only a couple minutes before four, we would have to catch up later. When I let go of Bea's hand and reached for my pack, she shyly returned it to her chest. She also kept eyeing Mary's outfit. It clearly bothered her being the only naked one in our little group.

Lucky for her, she was about to have company to share her nude misery. As I opened my pack and made sure there was enough room, Mary reached for the knot between her breasts and began to strip. Nothing had to be said about our former arrangement. She had reaped the benefits of our trade for a little while. But now it was time to return the clothes I had loaned her. I didn't have to remind her that she had to be as naked as her sister before returning to Frank.

Peeling the plaid midriff vest open and baring her spectacular breasts without a second thought what she was flashing me, she made a wistful sigh and shrugged the shirt off her shoulders. Wresting the jean shorts over her rounded hips and bottom, she lowered them to the ground and bent over to pick them up. It sure doesn't take long to get naked when all you have is a single layer of the skimpiest clothes imaginable!

When she unbent, my eyes were drawn to the fuzzy heart on her abdomen, and I thought of Bea. When the time was right, I intended to get to the bottom of that mystery. But right now, there were more important matters that needed our focus.

It must have been so bizarre for Bea; watching her big sister strip naked in front of me and willingly hand over all her clothes. But that's exactly what Mary did. When I held out my open pack, she stuffed her clothes inside and took a deep breath - steeling herself for the embarrassing nude walk back to the car.

When I turned to Bea and held out my open pack, she looked at me bewildered. Unlike her sister, she had nothing to contribute. But when I nodded toward the top of her head, she remembered that I had actually given her something.

If dragging her all over the fairgrounds in her birthday suit didn't drive home how dire her predicament was, this was one last indignity. It served as a stark reminder that even a scrap as small as the plain, brown string that was holding up her ponytail was not hers to keep. She only wore it because I had allowed her to. And it was mine to reclaim whenever I desired.

Making a wistful sigh of her own, Bea reached up and tugged the bow free. As unbrushed clumps of her normally perfectly coiffed, blonde hair fell around her blushing face, she deposited the thread into my pack and returned her hands to a protective pose. With both of my older stepsisters back together and naked as the day they were born, I flashed them a warm smile and led them out of hiding and in the direction of our family meeting spot.