Progressive Parenting Perspectives

[MGS]

Please post the link here. I was just about to read it today. It looks really good.

The Secret Diary of Stella Gortz (ATF forum)

I also put it in the story wiki for those who don't want to get an account at ATF.

The Secret Diary of Stella Gortz (wiki)

You can go read it there. Or not.

Thanks!

[Gymnogynist]

Dear PPP,

My husband and I have three children, ages 17, 14, and 12. By the time we got to the third child, we had thought we had gotten this parenting thing mostly figured out. How wrong we were!

You see, our two oldest, Oliver and George, are boys, while our youngest, Mina, is a girl. Things weren't too bad for the first ten years but once Mina entered doubled digits she turned into an entitled, rebellious brat!

Now I suppose things could have been worse. She was not doing drugs or sneaking out of the house at night or having sex. (At least, so far as we know she hasn't been doing any of these things.) She was refusing to do her chores and speaking back to her father and me, however, and we feared that if we failed to snip this behavior in the bud it would only lead to even worse behavior. Worse yet, we feared what would happen to our control over our boys if they saw their little sister getting away with insolence, rebellion, and disobedience.

And none of the tricks we had figured out from raising two boys seemed to work on our tween daughter. Six months ago, we were at our wits' end trying to come up with a way to control her.

That was when I found a copy of your magazine. Your recommended parenting methods seemed a little extreme, and my husband in particular took quite a bit of convincing, but the truth is we were at the end of our rope, desperate for anything that might work.

We sat the entire family down at the kitchen table and explained that, moving forward, Mina's wearing of clothing would be considered a privilege, not a right, and one that could be retracted at any time in response to bad behavior. The boys were understandably intrigued by this idea, especially once it was made clear that this punishment would be applied only to their sister and not to them.

Mina's response was extremely brief and concise: "Fuck that."

This, it turns out, was a major miscalculation on her part, as it was enough to put my husband over the edge. "That's it, young lady," he snapped. "Clothes off, right now."

A flicker of uncertainty passed over my daughter's face: clearly she hadn't expected the intensity of her father's response. Still, it only took seconds for her to regroup and her face became impassive again. "There's no chance in hell I'm getting naked in front of you and them," she said to him, nodding towards her older brothers.

Her father crossed his arms across his chest. "Every minute it takes you to strip," he told her, "is another day until you get your clothes returned."

And then father and daughter stared at each other in silence, as they both waited to see which of the two would break first. The rest of us were equally still, waiting to see what would happen. You could have heard a pin drop in that kitchen that night.

"One minute," my husband said after sixty seconds. Mina didn't respond.

"Two minutes," he counted after another sixty seconds.

Thirty seconds after that, Mina broke. "Fine, whatever," she said as she pulled her shirt over her head, revealing a lace bralette beneath. Once the shirt was off, she removed the bralette as well. Her chest was still developing, but it certainly wasn't flat anymore either. "I didn't realize you were so eager to see me naked, Dad," she said, watching his face to gauge his response.

He revealed nothing, saying only, "Three minutes."

"I'm stripping!" she protested as she unbuttoned the fly of her jeans and pulled down the zipper to reveal the first glimpse of a pair of floral bikini panties. "I'm stripping."

"Get on with it then," my husband answered, unimpressed.

Mina grimaced, then pushed both her jeans and her panties down to her knees. She quickly kicked off her sneakers, then pulled off her jeans, panties, and socks. "There! I'm naked! Happy?"

He gave a curt not. "One of your brothers will give you an outfit to put on right before you leave for school tomorrow. You will come straight home tomorrow afternoon and you will take it off as soon as you arrive home. From now until"--he checked the time--"5 o'clock P.M. Thursday evening, whenever you're not at school, or in transit between here and school, you will be in your skin, and only your skin. Is that clear?"

She nodded, a bit sourly. "Yes, sir."

He smiled. "Good. Now help your mother start dinner."

Not only did she help me with dinner, she helped me clean the kitchen afterwards. Indeed, not only did we not have another problem with her for the entire duration of her naked punishment, but also not for an entire week after she got her clothes back. Of course, nothing good lasts forever, so it was only a matter of time before she spouted off again and got stripped again.

Indeed, we eventually fell into a sort of pattern. She'd do something bad and lose her clothing for the day, and then be good for a week or so until she committed another infraction. It got so regular that my eldest son made a joke about Mondays being "Naked Mina Days."

My husband and I thought about this, and we decided there was something to it. Clearly Mina needed her weekly reminder that we were in charge and she was subject to our rule, even to the point of being deprived of her very clothing. So why wait until she did something bad to trigger the punishment? Why not be proactive about it?

So we made the decisions that Mondays would indeed be "Naked Mina Days," and that every Monday afternoon when she got home from school she would be required to remove her clothes and spend the rest of the evening naked even if she hadn't done anything wrong. Any infractions she did commit would result in additional punishments on top of her standard weekly naked evening, either additional days of nudity or more intensive punishments like the clothespins on her nipples.

She protested this at first as unfair, of course, since it essentially meant she was being punished without actually having done anything wrong, but not all that strenuously. The rebellious hellion who had been giving us so much trouble had been replaced with a sweet and submissive daughter, after all, who now knew her place.

And, indeed, the plan worked like a charm. She does occasionally need additional punishments on top of her standing evening of nudity--no pre-teen, no matter how well behaved, is a perfect angel, after all--but at nothing like the frequency that was required before.

We've begun to schedule some type of special family activity on Monday nights as well, since our naked daughter is stuck inside the house on those nights and it would be counterproductive to just let her hide inside her bedroom. Often we'll play a game, like charades or Twister or Monopoly. Other weeks we'll do some type of seasonally appropriate arts and crafts, like dying Easter eggs or carving jack-o'-lanterns. It's really helped to bring our family together

So, thank you, Progressive Parenting Perspectives. I can't really express just how grateful I am that you introduced us to this wonderful new parenting technique that really has done amazing things for our family. I never would have imagined we would have been able to turn things around so quickly and so completely from where we were just half a year ago.

Sincerely, Mina's Much Obliged Mother

[Part 2 to come!]

[tiger_kitten_2025]

Great story. This PPP thread is a treasure.

[superevil7]

And then father and father stared at each other in silence

Thanks for the contribution! Just noticed this, you probably meant "father and daughter".

[Gymnogynist]

Just noticed this, you probably meant "father and daughter".

Thanks! Fixed.

[alberic]

Dear PPP,
[...]
Sincerely, Mina's Much Obliged Mother

[Part 2 to come!]

Lovely! I am looking forward to the continuation of Mina's misfortunes.

[alberic]

To the Editorial Staff of Progressive Parenting Perspectives,

My name is Anita Gable. I have been a public middle school teacher for thirty-six years, and I have seen everything. I have seen the products of every parenting philosophy under the sun, from the hyper-permissive "my angel can do no wrong" to the iron-fisted authoritarian and worse. For most of my career, I was professionally expected to remain neutral on these matters. To offer support in the classroom while privately shaking my head at some of the train wrecks that walked through my door each morning, and how it's been steadily getting worse.

Your newsletter, which a parent slipped into my mailbox with a sly, "I thought you'd find this inspiring," has shaken me to my core. Not because I find it disturbing, but because it's the most accurate explanation for the dynamics I witness every single day. And because I saw a real opportunity to put your theories into practice. I took the newsletter to my school's principal, a stoic, old-school educator named Dr. Henderson, who is as weary of the chaos and entitlement as I am. After reading it, he looked at me over the top of his spectacles and said, "Interesting. Let's take this to the next board meeting. I'm sure we can get the backing of like-minded parents."

That is how we got to last Monday. After our presentation, the school board voted unanimously to pilot the "Strategic Training for Regulating Impulsive Patterns" in our seventh-grade class. We sent permission slips home, and I was astonished by the return rate. Nearly every parent signed. The two girls whose parents declined were quietly transferred to another class.

The first obvious target was a girl named Reagan. Reagan is a beautiful child, but she's a hurricane of defiance and disruption, spoiled beyond belief by her parents. The most perfect personification of the "nomen omen" trope that I have ever seen. Constantly talking, refusing to do her work, and exuding a level of contempt for authority that was breathtaking in its confidence. She's also an uncrowned leader of a posse of girls engaging in the kind of subtle, soul-crushing bullying that is almost impossible to prove by the administration.

I was taken by surprise when Reagan brought in her signed permission slip, with an added note in her father's bold, sprawling handwriting: "Do what you will. It's what we pay you for."

The opportunity arose when she openly mocked another student's presentation. I calmly stopped the lesson and addressed the class. "As you know, we have a new policy for correcting disruptive behavior. Reagan, please come to the front of the class."

She sauntered up with a smirk, expecting another lecture, or perhaps being sent to the office. All the previous punishments had been water off a duck's back. I simply gestured to the spot on the floor in front of my desk. "Remove all your clothing and place it in the bin."

The entire class went silent. A few girls gasped. Reagan looked at me in disbelief. "You're joking," she said defiantly.

"Do I look like I'm joking, Reagan?" I said, my voice as calm and steady as I could make it. A tremor of excitement went through the room. Reagan’s usual smirk faltered, but she stood her ground. When she still didn't move, I said, "Let me remind you of the alternative. You'll undress right now, or I can get some of the boys do it for you. I'm sure I'd get volunteers." I looked at two of the bigger boys, who had been snickering, and they eagerly nodded, ready to help.

That did it. Her defiance crumbled, replaced by the rawest fear I have ever seen on a student's face. With trembling hands, she began to undress. 

"Go on. Everything," I said when she tried to stop at her bra and panties. The room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop as she reluctantly peeled off her underwear until she was standing completely naked, her arms instinctively clutched over her chest and crotch. It was a transformation just as stark as it was sudden. The haughty, untouchable queen bee was gone, replaced by a terrified little girl, exposed in front of two dozens of boys and girls.

The silence in the classroom did not last and quickly turned into a chorus of cruel snickering and whistling. The other girls in her posse, who had always followed her lead, stared in horrified fascination. The boys, on the other hand, were positively ecstatic.

I turned to one of the boys she had tormented all year—a nerdy boy named Elliot. "Elliot," I said, "do you like how she's standing?"

"No," he said with a sly grin.

"Then come and teach her how we expect our girls to present themselves for correction," I instructed him.

Elliot's face lit up, and he scrambled to the front of the class. Standing beside the sobbing Reagan, he looked at me for approval and then pried her arms away from her body, holding them behind her back and forcing her to thrust her chest out. Her perky breasts and the little tuft of fair hair at the top of her slit were now on full display for everyone.

"Alright, class," I said, taking out a black marker and approaching the naked girl. "Who can tell me the parts of a girl's body that are not appropriate to show in public?"

A forest of hands shot up, and I called on another boy, this one a notorious troublemaker named Jake. "Her titties and her cooch," he blurted out, to a chorus of loud, raucous laughter.

"Excellent, Jake," I said, writing "TITTIES" above her breasts and "COOCH" above her pubic mound, with arrows pointing at them.

"What about her butt?" I asked, and turned to the rest of the class. "Is it appropriate to show your butt in public?"

"No!" they all yelled in unison.

"Correct," I said, making Reagan turn around and bend over, so I could write "BUTT" across her lower back, with an arrow pointing down between her cheeks. "Alright, class," I announced, "it would not be right if we kept this rare opportunity just for ourselves. Don't bring the house down. I'll be right back." I then walked out of the classroom, leaving the children alone with the naked and helpless Reagan.

I was only away for a few minutes, but when I returned, I could hear the ruckus all the way down the hall. As I opened the door, I saw Elliot holding the squirming Reagan's arms behind her back while Jake, Bobby, and Lee stood in front of her, happily mauling her breasts and touching her between the legs. Half of the class was cheering, happy that the popular mean girl was finally getting what she deserved.

I coughed, and the boys immediately let her go and scampered back to their seats, but the snickering didn't stop. Reagan was left standing in the front, crying, her face beet-red with humiliation and rage. Before long, the classroom door opened again, and a sixth-grade class and an eighth-grade class came pouring in, accompanied by their male teachers. Reagan's eyes widened in panic as the room filled with dozens of horny boys, all of them staring at her nakedness.

"Alright, everyone," I announced, "we have a very special treat for you today. As part of our new 'Strategic Training for Regulating Impulsive Patterns', Reagan has graciously volunteered to be our model for a lesson on female anatomy. But because there's so many of you, I think a few more volunteers would be a great help. If I'm not mistaken, Reagan was not acting alone when she bullied a few of you. Can anyone help me out here? I am sure there are a few more girls who deserve to be put on display."

The classroom erupted into a frenzy of pointing and shouting, as the children eagerly named the girls who had been part of Reagan's posse. Three other girls—Jessica, Melissa, and Marcia—were quickly identified and dragged to the front of the class.

"You know what to do," I said to the girls, and they reluctantly began to strip. They were all good-looking, all of them cheerleaders with toned, athletic bodies. As the three of them stood naked and sobbing in front of the full classroom of boys, I picked the marker again.

"What other words do we know for these parts?" I asked, and the boys, emboldened by the spectacle, began shouting out a litany of vulgar terms, all of which I wrote on the girls' bodies.

"ASSHOLE!" one boy shouted, and I wrote it on Jessica's buttcheek, with an arrow pointing to her anus.

"KNOCKERS!" another yelled, and I wrote it on Melissa's breasts, with arrows pointing to her nipples.

"CUNT!" the boys roared in unison, and I wrote the word in big, bold letters on Marcia's shaved pubic mound.

The four girls were then each laid out on a desk, their legs spread wide apart, giving the boys perfect access to their most private areas. The boys swarmed around the desks, their hands eagerly exploring the naked girls' bodies, pinching their nipples, pulling on their pussy lips, and probing their anuses, all under the guise of a biology lesson. I could hear Reagan gasp in shock when one of the teachers from the other class pushed a finger up her pussy and began to finger her in front of everyone. Her eyes shot daggers at him and me, but there was nothing she could do. The other man was more than happy to follow his colleague's example, and soon he was finger-fucking both Jessica and Marcia.

Finally, the bell rang, signaling the end of the lesson. "Alright, that's enough for today, everyone," I announced. "I hope you all learned something valuable about the female body, and about the consequences of bullying."

As Reagan and her friends got to their feet and tried to gather their clothes and get dressed, I stopped them. "Not so fast," I said. "You four will stay just like that for the rest of the day." I then took their clothes out of the bin and tossed them out the window. We were on the fourth floor. "Don't worry," I said, "you'll get them back at the end of the day. If you can find them."

The girls looked at me in horror, and then at each other, realizing they were going to have to spend the rest of the school day naked. The boys erupted in a deafening roar, and they stampeded out of the classroom, eager to spread the word of the spectacular show they had just taken part in.

I've been teaching for almost four decades, and I have never seen a more effective deterrent. The "Strategic Training for Regulating Impulsive Patterns" was a resounding success, and it's now been expanded to every grade in our school. The results have been nothing short of miraculous. The bullying has stopped, the attitude problems have vanished, and the girls are now much more humble and respectful of their male peers. My only hope is that the program is adopted nationwide, and that the era of the spoiled, entitled, and disrespectful brat is finally over.

Sincerely,

Anita Gable

[jojo12026]

Love that Alberic!!

[tiger_kitten_2025]

Wonderful little story! Thanks for adding to the PPP collection.

[superevil7]

Strategic Training for Regulating Impulsive Patterns

Nice acronym. I always enjoy little jokes like that.