What a Time to Recall! (Parts 1+2 now available)

Stories about girls getting pantsed, stripped and humiliated by anyone or anything.
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CaughtOfLore
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What a Time to Recall! (Parts 1+2 now available)

Post by CaughtOfLore »

What a Time to Recall!
an ENF story by CaughtOfLore
Hi everyone. I've written a few different stripping/humiliation stories in the past, but this is my first foray into writing a story that is exclusively ENF and doesn't involve any elements of ENM. As such, I hope you feel that I've done the new territory justice. It’s also been a long time since I’ve written something, so I hope I’m not too rusty. I certainly don’t have the luxury of time I used to where I was able to dedicate to fine tuning this stuff, so can only hope it reads okay. Please enjoy!
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PART ONE

Yes, it was supposed to be a day for me to overcome one of my fears. But this was not the kind of “exposure therapy” I had in mind.

As they sat either side of me in the back of the car, I really couldn’t shake the thought that my younger brother Ian and his friend Matthew were eyeing me up. With me wedged in the middle seat between them, they obviously had no choice but to talk across me, but I couldn’t help feeling like they were using it as a convenient excuse to let their eyes wander over my bikini-clad body.

Maybe I was just being my usual, self-conscious, paranoid self. Their excitement around spending the afternoon at the beach seemed like a good reason to be as chatty across me as they were, I guess. But on the other hand, my new pink bikini with a rainbow trim was quite eye-catching, and, more importantly, was revealing more of my pasty white skin than any of us were used to seeing out in the open.

Here’s the thing: I’d spent my whole life up to that point sticking to one-piece swimsuits, never daring to show as much skin as a two-piece would expose to the world - even a more conservative two-piece. This was a big step for me. The bottoms weren’t a thong or anything, but they weren’t super modest either. And not being used to having my midsection exposed, I caught myself several times tugging up at the waistband, feeling like they were perpetually too low.

The bikini top posed its own concerns. In a one-piece, I normally had much more of my chest covered. Now admittedly, I didn’t have all that much up top to cover, being early into my, erm, development… but the two triangles of fabric I was wearing, though generous enough in coverage for what needed to be hidden, still felt insufficient to me. The only benefit I saw to these were the optional light padding inlays they came with for the “cups”. I was at that stage of development where I didn’t really have a great deal in the way of breast tissue, but my nipples were getting mighty puffy and almost cone-like. These little padded linings didn’t enhance my breast size in any perceptible way, but they did a great job of hiding how awkwardly pointy they had turned since last summer. In all honesty, I would have probably chickened out and reverted back to my green one-piece swimsuit for this trip if not for the fact that when I went to put it on, I discovered just how “pokey” my developing breasts had become beneath the unpadded fabric. It’s not like they were going to pierce through the material, but they drew the eye, and far too much to ignore. At least until my breasts developed into a more sensible shape, I really had no choice but to wear the one swimsuit I owned with a padding layer.

But I digress, even though the coverage of the bikini top was inarguably family-friendly, it still felt unnatural to have the area of skin between my would-be breasts exposed, with just a piece of colourful string connecting the two triangles. I felt like boys shouldn’t be allowed to see that part of my chest.

And on the other hand, I knew these thoughts were ridiculous, which was precisely why I had bitten the bullet and forced myself to purchase this new beach attire in the first place.

So there I sat in the back of the car in a nervous state of my own making.

It’s therefore understandable I hope, for me to have been wary of wandering eyes of my two similar-aged opposite-gender backseat companions. I reached down and grabbed the beach towel at my feet, and casually brought it up to nurse over my crotch, just in case the boys were trying to sneak glances down there. I felt unnecessarily self-conscious and on top of that, stupid for feeling so paranoid. All I could do was push through and get myself used to it. It would get easier as the day went on, I told myself.

Before too long, we had arrived at the beach. Sliding out of the car, I surreptitiously tugged the fabric at opposite sides of my crotch to make sure it was providing as much coverage down there as possible, and to be certain that my repeated waistband tugging in the car had not given me any defined cameltoe for the boys to discover. Heaven forbid!

After we found a nice, relatively secluded area of beach to call our own, we laid out our towels, and I made quick business of slathering on sunblock, eager to get into the water and away from public view. *

I swam about in the cool water on my own for a while, relieved that the boys had taken up engaging in a splash fight with each other further down the beach, rather than continuing to buzz around me. After roughly ten minutes, I noticed that both boys had returned to the area on the beach where our towels were laid out and mum was sunbathing. Glancing back again a few minutes later, Mum and Ian seemed to be frantically gesturing for me to come back to the beach, and Matthew had begun wading out into the water toward me. I don’t know how long over those past few minutes they’d been trying to get my attention, but the constant white noise of the waves had in essence muted them entirely.

I started making my way toward the shore, closing the gap between Matthew and myself until he was within earshot.

“Bridget, your mum says you need to come back to shore now!” He urged, in a voice churning with anxiety, “Quickly!”

“What do you mean?” I asked, picking up my pace as best I could. Matthew had turned to head back himself at this point, so I put his lack of a response down to him simply not hearing me over the ocean’s rumbling.

I made sure my bikini top was still in place and gave another little tug to the hem on each leg-hole of my swimsuit before my lower region came back out into the open air, and jogged up to where Mum and Ian were standing, my mother holding and looking rather worriedly at something on Ian’s phone.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, catching my breath and brushing some wet hair back off my face.

“Turn around Bridget,” She said, passing the phone to Ian, “I need to check the tag in the back of your suit”.

“What?” I all but shouted.

“Quickly, I just need to check the tag number!” She rasped, grabbing my shoulders and, evidently with the strength of a superhero, whipping me around to face away from her. This all happened in an instant, but it still didn’t go unnoticed to me that the two boys also made haste to step around to my rear.

“What are you doing?! No! Stop!” I protested, wondering what it was that had prompted this sudden, embarrassing turn of events. There was very little time to ponder this however, as I felt fingers hook into my waistband at the rear and begin to pull away from me. *

“Stop!” I repeated in a panic, stepping backwards in a failed attempt to close the gap that was now revealing my butt to not just my mother but to the two boys. Ian and Matthew started snickering at what would only have amounted to a glimpse of the top of my buttocks. But that snickering became more pronounced when my step backwards prompted my mother’s next action.

As she hissed at me to stop squirming, her intention in wrenching the waistband in the way she did was simply to have enough slack to twist the tag out and around to face her, but this mission seemed to completely blind her to the fact she was pulling the waistband halfway down my butt, exposing even more of it for these two bystanding boys. I was so distracted by trying to prevent the sudden exposure behind me, that I failed to react in time to the waistband in the front. It too was coming down, and if it weren’t for my slight buckling at the waist, my privates may have been unveiled to the ocean right then and there. As it stood, a wispy, damp crop of my recently acquired pubic hair was now out for the ocean to wave at.

Fortunately the bend in my midsection had halted the waistband’s frontal descent right on the cusp of showing anything truly catastrophic. The sounds of the wind, the ocean lapping and the audience to my rear blinded me entirely to the fact that I probably should have been more concerned about my front, for it wasn’t just the ocean around this side of me. I had until now, failed to really notice the other beachgoers, a couple of families who had just recently set up their towels for a day on the beach. One slightly forward and to my left, and the other approximately twenty feet (six or so metres) directly in front of me.

In the family to the left, there were two siblings, a boy and girl I would estimate to be around the same age as me, who had been getting started on what looked to be a run-of-the-mill sandcastle. With all the commotion of my protests, their construction work had been put on hold, and the boy in particular had taken great interest in this barely-clothed girl his own age, who appeared to be on the precipice of having her bikini bottoms removed.

The sister of the boy conversely looked aghast at the way in which my bikini bottoms were sitting so perilously low on my body, exposing the timid top hairs of my vaginal fringe, teasing what more may be exposed should the garment be coaxed any lower. One would almost think from the girl’s expression that she was more panicked at the idea of my exposure in front of her brother’s eyes than I was! Perhaps I wasn’t alone in my beliefs that a girl’s private areas should be kept absolutely top secret from boys after all.

Two boys carrying boogie-boards had just returned from the water to their family’s towels directly in front of me. One looked to be a little younger than me and the other slightly older. I was spun around to face them just as they had wrapped their towels around themselves mid-conversation with each other, and their eyes widened as they unsuspectingly met with my embarrassing scene. Their conversation stopped dead, both of them with a mutual understanding that they would come back to whatever they were talking about at another time.

Right now though, it was time for them to memorise the sight of a girl with her bikini bottoms being pulled so low that they could confirm she had quite recently begun growing pubes.

I’m sure the parents of either family would have reprimanded their children for staring if they had noticed, but every one of them had their backs to me.

My hands shot around to cover my front, knowing that I was a good few seconds too late to prevent any of these new audience members from having seen my scant display of pubic hair. I heard the girl desperately try to distract her brother’s attention away from me by encouraging him to help her dig a moat around their castle. While he did reluctantly look away, it was only a few seconds before I noticed him resume sneaking further glances in my direction to see how my little predicament continued to play out as he scooped randomly at the sand. *

I know Ian had seen my butt before when we were younger, but it had been quite a few years, and this was still rare enough of a sight to him, to register as something he shouldn’t be allowed to see - his earnest chuckling making this perfectly clear. Matthew on the other hand only had a younger brother, and so it was entirely possible this was the closest he had ever been in proximity to a girl’s exposed buttocks. Almost certainly one slightly older than him, let alone one even close to his own age. Matthew wasn’t giggling, but his sights locked on to my partially bared buttocks with such intensity that it bordered on being audible. *

In a panic, I gripped the back of my bikini bottoms on each side and tried to wrestle them back up. Trying to do this behind my back however put me at the disadvantage, and was definitely the wrong move, as it only served in prompting my mother to twist the waistband harder, and further out and down. “Stay still!” She gruffly instructed. *

Wrestling behind my back had also once again exposed my front to the kids in the aforementioned nearby families, the boys of whom now had even more reason to be excited about their day at the beach. The waistband had thankfully not lowered any further in front, my momentary imprudence had left them once more able to observe the natural formation in which my pubic hair had begun growing in.

“There’s no number on here!” My mother puzzled aloud. “Is the number supposed to be on the tag or somewhere else?!”

What the hell was going on?!

Regardless of my confusion surrounding the flustered flurry, the one thing I had any clarity on was my mother apparently being hellbent on exposing my butt. And I was sure if Ian and Matthew were close enough and standing at the right angle they would at this point have a great view of the entirety of my pale white cheeks. *

“That’s a size label”, Ian weighed in, instantly confirming to me they were indeed in the right position to be seeing my whole butt. The realisation of their proximity to my exposed rear caused me to reflexively and unintentionally clench my butt, eliciting an excited chuckle from them both.

“What do you mean, size label?” Mum diverted their immature merriment to bring them back to task.

“The recall notice says it’s on a wash care label”, Ian clarified with remnants of his amusement still clinging to his vocal cords. “Maybe there’s a second tag somewhere else”, he offered helpfully. His tone suggested he was trying to quell his obvious excitement, in acknowledgement of the sense of urgency warranted by the situation. “Would there be a tag on the top piece, inside of one of the triangles?”

“No!” I promptly and forcefully objected, envisioning my mother performing the same tug-o-war action she had just done on the back of the swimsuit, but with the front of my bikini top this time. If she pulled and twisted one of those triangles with even a tenth of the enthusiasm she’d done with the bottoms, the boys would have a very intimate view of my freshly budding breasts. I felt the back of my waistband snap back at me and leapt a few feet out of reach, before tugging the front and rear of the suit back into place and spinning around to face the three of them. *

“We don’t have time for this, Bridget!” My mother shouted, “The poison could already be seeping into your skin!”

“Poison?! What are you talking about?” I demanded, maintaining the grip on my waistband for both physical and emotional security.

Ian made a couple of taps on his phone to bring up his web browser and held it up to me. It was a little hard to read in the bright sunlight and while staying out of arms’ reach, but I could make out an image of what looked like my swimwear, and the larger words that read ‘URGENT AND IMMEDIATE RECALL NOTICE’.

“What is it?” I asked, squinting to make out the words, but simultaneously maintaining my distance.

Ian sighed, turned the phone to face himself, and using his hand as a sun-visor on the screen, read the recall notice aloud as fast as he could.


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ImageImageImage
URGENT AND IMMEDIATE RECALL NOTICE
It has come to our attention that the dye-setting formula used in three garments from our recent “SunSistrz Rainbow Bandz” Swimwear range contain traces of hazardous chemicals in excess of legally permitted levels within the EU, contact with which may pose a serious health risk for children.

Please note that the excess quantities of these chemicals can only potentially cause harm when exposed to moisture and kept in contact with the skin for a prolonged period of time.

Affected products can be identified by the product identification numbers printed on the garment's wash care label.

Affected product identification numbers:
  • 774339
  • 774341
  • 774343
It is strongly recommended that persons up to and including the age of 16 cease using the recalled swimwear immediately. Consumers can return affected products to our head office or at any authorized retailers where the products were purchased for a full refund. No proof of purchase (receipt) is necessary.

We are working with our material suppliers to investigate how this has happened and to make sure it does not happen again.

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I felt a tenseness creep over my whole body as Ian read through the page, and was unsure if the perpetual stinging I was now feeling around the waistband was from chemicals or just the recent waistband snap.

“We can’t waste any more time, Bridget! You need to get those off, please!” My mother implored. Taking in the recall notice again had clearly served to heighten her panic, though now having heard it myself, I could understand why.

I heard a giggling from the two brothers in the family directly behind me.

“I’m not taking them off here!” I hissed, “We’re surrounded by people! Give me the keys and I’ll go get changed in the car.”

“More toxic chemicals could be soaking into your body every second!” My mother argued, “You could end up very, very sick!”

“Bridget, please take them off”, Ian joined in, “It sounds like it could do serious damage to you!”
With this comment, he subtly gestured toward my privates. I realised he was right, and felt my heart start racing. Who knew what the long term effects could be? Was my current reluctance going to result in completely fucking up my reproductive organs? I obviously didn’t want to strip nude on the beach, even under a towel, but on the other hand, the long-term issues I could be causing by delaying further, were beginning to weigh on me enough to tip the scales for a little awkwardness in the short-term.

“Damn it! Okay, fine!” I muttered, grabbing my towel and wrapping it around me just under my armpits. Once it was secured, I turned my back to my mum and asked her to untie the bow at the back of my neck that was holding the bikini top up. In doing so, I was again facing the two sets of unknown children on the beach, the boys all watching with wrapt attention as they saw the colourful straps fall slack over my shoulders. Holding the towel in place with one hand for added security, I pulled and fidgeted about with the hidden parts of my bikini top beneath the towel, until I was able to loosen the bikini top enough to have it drop down my body and land at my feet with a light squelch. I stepped back and out of the little top, and my mother plucked it up to locate the elusive wash care label. *

“774343?” My mother read out. Ian swiftly flicked his finger across his phone a couple of times. He looked back up at Mum uneasily.

“774343”, he repeated, with apparently enough concern in his voice to send Mum spiralling.

“Oh Bridget!” Mum cried, “Oh my gosh, get the rest of it off and then go back in the water and give yourself a good scrubbing, quickly! You need to try and keep as much of that poison from absorbing into you as possible!”

I looked down at myself. With the towel wrapped around me under my armpits to cover my chest, my coverage only just barely extended down to where it needed to in order to preserve my modesty. I shuffled the towel down a little, exposing more pale skin on my chest that had clearly not been exposed to the sun in recent years. I wanted more coverage down below before daring to remove my last piece of clothing, but knew that the towel was now at an extreme precipice. Any lower, and my ridiculous-looking budding areolae puffs would pop out over the top of the towel!

My mum had gone back to reading the recall information page on the phone. For a moment I considered asking her for a little help, but realised that my modesty was clearly not the priority in her mind right now, and her definition of ‘help’ at this point would likely be for her to simply whisk my towel off and pants me without a second’s hesitation.

I used one hand to hold the towel in place, and with the other, I fumbled with the wet, clingy garment, trying to tug the bottoms down from below, without lifting or disturbing the towel. Ian and Matthew watched on breathlessly, obviously not daring to take their eyes off my awkward, excruciatingly careful dance, lest they miss even a slight coverage miscalculation on my part.

“Matthew just said he can give you a hand if you want!” Ian eventually suggested with a grin.
“What?! I didn’t say anything!” Matthew assured me, almost instantly blushing crimson at Ian’s suggestion.

“Boys, give Bridget some privacy”, mum lectured sternly as she looked back up from the phone. The two boys looked down at the ground, Ian still grinning at his successful efforts to make his friend blush.

“Here, let me…” Mum said, passing the phone back to Ian and leaning forward to assist in what appeared to be exactly the way I had dreaded. I jumped back and yelped like a dog whose paw had been accidentally trodden on.

“Settle down, Bridget!” She said as she stepped toward me again, “Hold your towel in place and I’ll get the bikini bottoms for you.”

As instructed, I used each hand to more securely clutch the towel in two different places as my mum gingerly reached below the hemline of the towel and pinched the sides of my bikini bottoms. As she carefully dragged them down, I tried to take some solace in the fact that my mother wasn’t simply out to expose me to the world and was just doing what she needed to do in order to keep me safe. It was hard to focus on that however, as the sea breeze danced against my body to alert me of an exciting new area it had discovered. *

After dragging them as far as my knees, Mum released the bikini bottoms, allowing them to drop freely the rest of the way to my feet. I gently kicked them off toward her, not daring to bend, for fear that any unnecessary large movements would risk misjudgements in my careful towel positioning. I pressed the towel firmly against my crotch, not trusting the winds of the ocean to behave around my ad-hoc mini dress. The boys meanwhile had raised their eyes from the sand and had resumed watching me, examining now with less-than-subtle interest the areas of skin on my upper chest and upper thighs that they weren’t used to seeing me show. Those parts, notably pale from a lack of exposure to the sun, almost seemed to glow, beckoning their attention as if to say “Hey! Bridget would normally have this skin covered! She doesn’t want you to see this part of her, so have a good look!”

“Ian and Matthew are looking at me again”, I complained. Ian had the gall to glare at me like I was the one doing him wrong!

“Boys!” Mum disapprovingly chastised for a second time, leading Ian and Matthew to cast their vision downward again.

“Okay,” She then returned to me, “now go get yourself cleaned off before the poison has any more time to soak into your skin!”

I hadn’t thought this far ahead and now I wished I could turn back time. After this whole dedicated effort to conserve my modesty, was I now just supposed to drop the towel and take a nude stroll down to the water? If I’d have thought this through for a second, instead of just allowing my head to become nothing but a whirlpool of panic for the past few minutes, I could have gotten submerged first, and then removed the swimsuit bottoms while concealed by the water. Then again, I suppose that would have only served to prolong my eventual humiliation to when I would have to inevitably exit the water sans bikini.

I’d like to say I put up a decent fight to keep my towel, but the concern associated with the idea that I’d been poisoned had by this point begun to hit me pretty hard, and I was instead already mentally preparing myself for the run down to the water, to start getting clean. As my mother grabbed the edges of the towel, I only snapped back to the reality of the situation with enough time to throw an arm across my chest and cup my privates over the top of the towel in preparation for its unavoidable removal. The towel was whisked away from my body. An excited hoot of disbelief from behind told me that the two boogie-board boys sitting between our group and the water were keenly watching as my pale bare buttocks were unveiled in an instant and pointing straight at them. * * *

Ian and Matthew had up to this point remarkably kept their view contained to the sand at their feet. I just knew though, that the sound of the towel being removed and the way my mum’s words suggested a finality to my coverage, would prove to be too much for their resolve. No doubt they would be about to take a fresh peek at my state. My now naked state. Before they took the initiative, I spun around and made a mad dash toward the water. At least there, I wouldn’t be so exposed. One sharp intake of breath later however, I became cognisant of the fact I was running straight toward the two boogie-board boys, their eyes wide and their hands over their mouths in disbelief. I skidded in the sand trying to change course, and as I veered left, the boy and girl building a sandcastle gasped as I sprinted by them, narrowly missing their castle by mere feet. * * *

I heard the boy let out a delighted giggle as he enjoyed my jiggling bottom bouncing away.

I waded out into the water until I was sufficiently covered, immediately getting to work rubbing at my skin to remove any hitherto soaked-in poison, focussing in particular on the areas my bikini had been covering. I didn’t dare look back to the beach. Even submerged as I was, I felt a chill at the idea of facing everyone as I rubbed desperately at my privates. No, they wouldn’t really be able to see what I was doing, but I still didn’t want to know they were all looking at me while I did that. Instead, I stared out to sea. I wondered if it might be better for me to just keep wading out into the water, never to return to shore.

“Do you need help with your back?” Came Ian’s voice from directly behind me, followed by a giggle from Matthew off to his left.
I stopped scrubbing and instinctively covered my privates in a frozen state beneath the water.
“Get away from me!” I shrieked.
“I think you need one of us to give your back a scrub though” He pushed, “There’s no way you can reach all the parts that your bikini straps were touching back here.”
“I can manage just fine!” I snarled back, though all the time I couldn’t deny feeling a distinct tingling beneath the surface of my skin back there.
“Okay, okay!” Ian said, making it sound like I was overreacting, “Just trying to help you, sheesh!”

“Help?” I scoffed, “Help?! Ian! You knew about this before we even got to the beach, didn’t you? There’s no way you just stumbled across that information after I got in the water!”
Ian started to speak but I cut him off before the first syllable had been uttered. “Why? Why the hell would you not say anything before I got wet? You know how serious this could be, right?!”
“Okay, cards on the table,” Ian said, “When we first got here and you were distracted putting sunblock on, I took a picture of you with my phone and sent it to Troy.
“What?!” I screamed, almost pivoting to face him. “Why? And what’s that got to do with anything?”
Troy was another of Ian’s friends. He and I had never spoken or met officially, but from seeing him around at our place and school from time to time, he seemed to hold himself a little more maturely than most of the boys my brother hung around. The idea that he had a picture of me in a bikini made me want to bury my head in the sand, figuratively and literally.
Ian tried to explain. “Look,” He said, “Troy didn’t believe that you’d ever be caught dead in a bikini, so I wanted to prove him wrong!”
Ian spoke like every other aspect of the story wasn’t as sketchy as hell. “Anyway”, he continued, “the point is he saw your bikini in the picture and recognised it from the recall notice! If anything, you have him to thank for warning us!”

The undulating waves around us filled the silence for a time.

“So,” I eventually said, “You really didn’t know about this recall before then?”
“Are you serious? No! Of course not!” He insisted, “I’m a sneaky rat of a brother, yes, but I wouldn’t do anything to put you in physical harm!”

To be fair, he made a good point. We had our sibling rivalry but I couldn’t really imagine him trying to poison me.

“Anyway,” he said, “You should really keep cleaning yourself. We’ll leave you to it.”

I said nothing, and waited a good thirty seconds to allow them time to make some distance from me, before I cautiously resumed rubbing at my skin. Within barely ten seconds, I heard a stifled chuckle from behind me. They were still there, watching me from behind!
“Piss off!” I shouted, holding my arms over myself again, “I’m trying to stop myself from being poisoned you little shit! Mum told you to give me some privacy!”
“Alright! Sorry!” Ian laughed, this time audibly sloshing away with his friend.

I gave a furtive glance over either shoulder to make sure they were a decent distance away before finally resuming. At this point I could definitely feel an itchy, slightly burning sensation around my breast buds and bikini zone, so focussed on those areas until it seemed to subside - honestly it didn’t take that long, but with the knowledge that people were likely watching me from behind, it felt like an eternity. After that, I struggled with giving the back areas a good scrub but eventually felt sufficiently cleaned of whatever may have tried to make it into my skin, and headed back to shore. Holding my arms over the expected places and doing my best to mentally block out the beachgoers around me, I made a speedy beeline for my towel.

As I approached, Ian was whispering something into Matthew’s ear. I knew whatever it was, I was likely the subject of it, and it likely wasn’t something I wanted to know.
Matthew almost immediately began flushing red at whatever Ian had said, so then I knew I definitely didn’t want to know.

“Where’s my towel?” I asked, my sights set on regaining coverage as quickly as possible.
“I just had Matthew put it in the garbage” Mum replied, sitting up from her sunbathing and speaking with a tone that suggested throwing out towels was what towels were for.
“What?!” I borderline screeched.
“You had it wrapped around you when you were still wearing the bikini! It would have been soaked with chemicals!” She explained.
“What am I supposed to dry off with then?” *
“I won’t be going in the water and am just using mine to lay on”, mum advised, “so you can use mine to dry off when it’s time to go.”
“And in the meantime?” I anxiously pushed, “I need to cover up! You realise I’m naked, right?”
Mum turned to Ian and Matthew.
“Boys!” She barked, “I don’t want to have to tell you again! Show Bridget some respect and quit your gawking!”
The boys made a point to turn away, mumbling sheepish apologies as they did so. I just knew that their desire to make the most of this rare opportunity would eventually override this facade of respect for my circumstances yet again - it was only a question of how long they would hold out this time. How many times was she going to allow this to play out before she caught on that her scolding only had a lasting impact of about a minute or so?
“What about the other boys?” I complained.
“What other boys?” Mum asked plainly.
I gestured behind me with my head at the two nearby families. I didn’t even have to check if those boys were looking at my butt in that moment. There’s no way they wouldn’t be, and I was right.
“Oh relax,” mum said dismissively, “There’s barely anyone on this beach.”
“‘Barely anyone’ is pretty different to ‘nobody’ when you’re naked, mum!” I hissed.
“It’s a few kids who couldn’t care less, and a couple of parents who have seen it all before. Relax.”
My eyes darted around at the captivated (mostly male) audience around us on the beach. If they really couldn’t care less, they had a very counterintuitive way of showing it. *
“Look! They’re staring at me, mum! They haven’t looked away since you started pulling my swimsuit off!”
“Well I can’t tell strangers’ kids what to do, Bridget. Get back in the water if you’re that concerned!” Mum suggested, laying back down. “They can’t look at you in there”.
“This is so unfair!” I cried at the sky.

“Maybe we could take your mind off it, Bridge”, Ian suggested, surprisingly still looking in the opposite direction to me. “Matthew and I were going to make sand angels! Wanna join us?” He proposed cheekily.
Mum snorted a laugh at the suggestion. The very idea that I would lay down in the sand in front of these boys - in front of all these other kids - and essentially perform horizontal slow-motion nude jumping jacks for their entertainment! My eyes shot fiery, spinning daggers at Ian.

I stepped forward and kicked Ian in the back of the leg, causing him to almost fall over.

“Ah!” He yelped, regaining his balance. “Okay! Sorry!” He offered in an irritated tone over his shoulder at me.

I stepped forward and kicked him in the back of the other leg, this time successfully causing him to buckle and drop to the ground.

“Ow!” He yelled, getting back to his feet and rubbing his calf, “Stop it! That hurt!”
“Then don’t send pictures of me to your creep friends!” I shouted.
“What was that about?” my bewildered Mum lifted her head again to ask.
“Nothing,” Ian said. Still facing away from me, he offered the vaguest of apologies, and couldn’t resist adding “But I’m glad you’re safe now.”

Not saying anything, I turned on my heels to head swiftly back to the water. I hadn’t taken even one step when…

“Bridget!” I heard mum yell with renewed horror, “Your bottom is going all red and blotchy!”
“What?!” I gasped, trying to look back at my own behind to check what she was referring to, while keeping secure coverage using my arms in front of me. From what little I could see around my side, the areas where my swimsuit had previously been covering me were showing signs of irritation. I looked down at my front, and there too I could see a similar blotchiness starting to show in the areas that my hands were unable to cover. I would have loved to dismiss it, but it was undeniable, and it was at this point that I personally started to really worry about the severity of my poisoning.

“Move your hands!” Mum demanded, wanting to assess the problem more clearly.
“I-I can’t do that with everyone looking!” I stammered.
“The boys are still looking away!” Mum impatiently pointed out, “Now quickly, shift your hands and let me see!”
Mum seemed to be somehow deliberately in denial regarding the existence of the other boys on the beach.
“I can’t!” I whined back. *
“Bridget!” *
“Give me your towel, or, or, or let’s go back to the car!” I desperately suggested. *
Bridget Annabelle Stonning!” Mum bellowed. I froze in fright at the sudden angry tone my mum had taken, and I saw Ian and Matthew tense up too. Ian and I hadn’t heard this voice in a few years now, and it struck me with all the childhood fear it was supposed to.
“Move your hands NOW!

I reflexively snapped my arms to my sides, trembling not so much from the coldness of the wind on my wet skin, but from the deep-seated childhood regression that had fired into my subconscious through the shock of my mother’s sudden sharp command. I had no idea she could still make me feel like a misbehaving child being told off. But here it was, making me bare all in an instant. *

I could feel the warm red glow of my blushing. A blushing that began on my face and continued all the way down and across my chest where it blended with the skin irritation, as I stood, for the first time, truly naked and uncovered. In the shocked silent aftermath of my mother’s outburst, I could hear a hushed commotion behind me, as the boogie-board brothers no doubt debated on whether or not they should scurry further inland to get a frontal view of my unshielded nakedness. *

Excitement also flared from the brother and sister duo, with the blushing girl anxiously imploring her brother “No, Harrison, please don’t go over there!”. Her attempts to simply distract her brother were now gone, such was her urgency to not have her brother know what the naked body of someone her own age looked like.

And yet somehow, I remained perfectly still. Uncovered with my hands by my sides, aware that at any moment I might see one or all of those boys appear in my periphery. The only movement, my fingers, quivering by my sides with an excruciating desire to cover up, as I pictured the group of unknown boys suddenly stepping into my field of view. Their eyes large with intrigue as they gazed freely upon me, learning the embarrassing secrets of my naked, semi-pubescent girlish form. *

I was snapped back from this odd reverie by the very real sound of feet, perhaps more than one pair, hurriedly padding through the sand off to my right. Whoever it was, they were indeed approaching an area off to my side where they would soon attain a frontal view of my body. It was really about to happen!

“Harrison, come back here!” The boy and girl’s mother shouted angrily. Finally, an adult outside of my own mother had taken notice!

Unfortunately it seemed not to matter for the curious boy, as I could hear his footsteps continue unrelenting. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity for him, and it seemed he was ready to take whatever punishment was served up for ignoring his mother. I suppose once he had the image of my nakedness in his sights, nobody would be able to take that image away from him, and that would be well worth it.

“Mum!” I hissed, “Can I cover up? I don’t want that kid to see!” *

“Just a second,” She said, bringing my wrists back to my sides as I went to cover up, continuing to examine my reddened skin with alarm. “It looks like it’s not just red blotches,” She continued, “but you’ve got raised welts forming all over your bikini areas too”. *

I started to sense movement in the corner of my eye, which meant Harrison was likely just getting into visual range of my front off to my right.

“Mum!” I anxiously repeated. *

I heard the boy gasp.

It was too late! He had seen me!

Mum glanced across at Harrison, finally seeming to understand my concern of his position in relation to my naked front. She grabbed my shoulders and quickly pivoted with me so that he was again situated behind me. *

What she had failed to take into account was the boogie-board boys, still sitting where they had been through the whole ordeal, and who were now suddenly being treated to a side-on view of my naked body. With Mum’s hands having let go of my wrists in order to rotate me, I was able to quickly cover up with a yelp, but I had clocked both of them drinking me in before my hands made it to their shielding positions.

You made it to the end of part one! Thank you!

The next part is only in the early stages at the time of posting this, but the framework/plot points are all worked out and ready to go. I suspect it’ll be around the same length as this part by the time it is done, and will also conclude the story. I’d love to know what you think so far, before I commit to finishing the rest. If this isn’t working for people I’ll humbly slink back to writing ENM which, as mentioned at the beginning of this post, is really more my wheelhouse.
CLICK HERE TO JUMP STRAIGHT TO PART 2
Last edited by CaughtOfLore on Sat Jun 03, 2023 12:01 pm, edited 4 times in total.
MY STORIES:
Compromising Situation (MIXED ENM/ENF)
What About Charlie? - Expanding a Vignette (ENF/CMNF)
What a Time to Recall! (ENF/CMNF)
A Frame of Shame (ENM/CFNM)
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Re: What a Time to Recall!

Post by jimmythehand »

Excellent first part, with the insights to what the protagonist is thinking and feeling being particularly well done. Even today, I still remember how horrifying a thought it was at that age that a member of the oposite sex might potentially see certain body parts, so Bridget's thoughts are something I think we can all identify with (and as is always the case when it isn't us on the receiving end, enjoy).

You may feel that just ENM is in your wheelhouse but I'd strongly recommend clearing a corner (and maybe more than that) for ENF!
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Re: What a Time to Recall!

Post by CaughtOfLore »

Thank you! I really appreciate you weighing in on this. I have been wanting to dip my toe into writing something purely ENF for a while now, but wasn't sure where to start. In the end, I figured a good (safe) option would be a beach-based story, since it's a well-proven, classic setting for ENF/ENM stories alike, and it would allow me to focus more on the protagonist's peril and less on scene-setting. Being able to play around with the "what/why/how" is a lot more fun than the "where/when".

And I'm happy to hear the inner monologue stuff is working for you! I was wondering if I'd got the balance right with aspects like that, so I'm delighted to hear you mention it as a positive. :D
MY STORIES:
Compromising Situation (MIXED ENM/ENF)
What About Charlie? - Expanding a Vignette (ENF/CMNF)
What a Time to Recall! (ENF/CMNF)
A Frame of Shame (ENM/CFNM)
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Re: What a Time to Recall!

Post by SDS »

Fantastic story! I'm still 50% convinced its all a prank from her brother :D
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Re: What a Time to Recall!

Post by CaughtOfLore »

50% convinced? The equivalent of a coin-flip? C’mon SDS - all or nothin’! 8-)

And thank you for the praise on the story so far! Here’s hoping I can stick the landing!
MY STORIES:
Compromising Situation (MIXED ENM/ENF)
What About Charlie? - Expanding a Vignette (ENF/CMNF)
What a Time to Recall! (ENF/CMNF)
A Frame of Shame (ENM/CFNM)
Boyd vs Girls (ENM/CFNM)
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Re: What a Time to Recall!

Post by Executionus »

Excellent story so far! I'm so glad to see you active again after all this time, since you're one of the true elites. Your niche has always been barely-covered people walking the tightrope between exposure and coverage and you do it so well.

I just have to comment that you shouldn't be insecure related to ENF content. This story is fantastic already, and you had tons of great ENF scenes in Compromising Positions as well. In the end there isn't really that much difference between ENF and ENM from the writer's position, aside from the fact that naked girls are usually more frantic and are much more highly stared at by the crowds (including both genders gawking most of the time, which is not a factor in most ENM). Viewers are far less likely to avert their eyes when it's a naked girl, and they're willing to take greater risks in order to see her. You've already been managing all of that in this story. You could easily write more ENF stories, or more mixed stories with both like CP.
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Re: What a Time to Recall!

Post by Hooked6 »

AWESOME!! Another story from one if my favorite authors!! Are you posting anywhere else CaughtOfLore? Just curious as to where you've been hiding.

I do hope there is more to this marvelous story! You clearly write ENF stories just as well as your ENM stories. The tension and excitement which are trademarks of your work is just as prevalent with this latest contribution!

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Re: What a Time to Recall!

Post by CaughtOfLore »

Executionus wrote: Mon Mar 28, 2022 8:37 am Excellent story so far!...
Thanks Executionus - you're too kind!

Executionus wrote: Mon Mar 28, 2022 8:37 am I just have to comment that you shouldn't be insecure related to ENF content....
In all honesty, I'm probably not all that insecure in the writing side of things, but more in terms of knowing that what I'm writing is what an ENF reading audience is looking for. I'm fine with this not being for everyone though, and I'm glad to see the people it is right for, are finding it. :D

Hooked6 wrote: Mon Mar 28, 2022 10:29 am AWESOME!! Another story from one if my favorite authors!!
Oh stop, you're going to make me blush! :P

Hooked6 wrote: Mon Mar 28, 2022 10:29 am Are you posting anywhere else CaughtOfLore? Just curious as to where you've been hiding.
Nope, I've more-or-less been dormant for three years! Well, at least as far as my online writing presence goes. Life got busy. I actually wrote almost two complete new stories at one point during my hiatus, with plans to post them only once they were completed. Then I lost 90% of one of them due to a very, very stupid reason. I've gradually been re-writing it in dribs and drabs, but it's slow going (see aforementioned life becoming busy), so I wouldn't expect that one any time soon. The other almost-complete story is safe from also being lost, but it's a Christmas story, so I'm going to finish and post it at the end of this year, now that I'm officially out of hiding.
I think the only place my stories are hosted at this point is over on my Booksiesilk page, here. I will complete those unfinished stories some day, but for now I'm enjoying writing something new.

Hooked6 wrote: Mon Mar 28, 2022 10:29 am I do hope there is more to this marvelous story!
There will be - I'm working on the second half now. Might be a week or two but yes, the first half has been well received (by some of my all-time favourite humiliation authors, no less! ;) ) so I'm on it.
MY STORIES:
Compromising Situation (MIXED ENM/ENF)
What About Charlie? - Expanding a Vignette (ENF/CMNF)
What a Time to Recall! (ENF/CMNF)
A Frame of Shame (ENM/CFNM)
Boyd vs Girls (ENM/CFNM)
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Re: What a Time to Recall!

Post by CaughtOfLore »

Oops, looks like this is going to be a three-parter rather than a two-parter. Hope you enjoy the continuation!
______________________________________________________________________________________

PART TWO

The boogie-board boys could undoubtedly see that I was looking at them, but this didn’t seem to deter them from continuing to ogle me. One would think my eye-contact would imbue enough guilt, or shame them into looking away, at least for a moment. But no, it seemed that they inherently knew my vulnerable state meant they had an upper hand. Their unshakeable staring was a clear message that I was the only one feeling any shame in that moment.

Apparently now appeased with her examination of my skin, my mother thankfully didn’t ask me to shift my hands out of the way again, and with my yelp, she had realised that she just swivelled my naked front into at least a partial view of these other onlookers. “Sorry sweetie”, she said in the voice of someone who understood what they’d done, but had larger concerns. Which, in fairness, she did.

Her two word apology (one word of which could almost be perceived as belittling) would not undo the fact that all three unknown boys on the beach that I had been specifically trying to hide my body from, now had an inerasable image of my peaked “breastlets” in their minds, to draw on whenever they pleased.

“Guess what I just saw?”, I faintly heard Harrison smugly saying to his sister as he sauntered satisfied back to their towels.
“Oh my gawwwd, I hate you so much!” His sister’s mortified voice cried back at him in a wounded crackle. I have no idea why this girl’s dynamic with her brother was so dramatic regarding someone else’s nudity, but it made me feel like I’d let this girl down. Like I had betrayed our unspoken girl-code in some way. Just what I needed; some undeserved guilt on top of my embarrassment!

“Pack everything up, boys”, mum directed. “We need to get Bridget seen to!”
Seen to?” I questioned. I was relieved to hear I would finally be leaving this hellscape, but uneasy about the vagueness of my mother’s words. “Where are we going?” I asked.
Ian and Matthew began bundling up the few items we had laid out on the sand, making every effort not to be seen sneaking glances in my direction as they did so, but failing on several counts.

“Here, dry yourself off, honey, and let’s get back to the car. We’ve got to get some professional advice”, mum said to me, tossing her towel at me before hurrying with the boys back in the direction of the car. Unable to catch the towel without uncovering my privates, it collided with my front before dropping inelegantly to my feet. *
“Hey!” I shouted after my mum.
“Let’s go, Bridget!” She responded with haste, “Whatever it is, tell me on the way back to the car!”
And like that, the three of them were off.
“I need you to put the towel around me!” I implored. But my mother was too busy talking to Ian about whatever her plans were involving my being “seen to”.

Like the premise of a certain Christmas movie where, amidst a chaotic morning, a mother ends up leaving her child alone at home, I too was being forgotten and unknowingly left behind. The main two ways that my situation differed from said movie were that I was on a beach, and I didn’t have a stitch of clothing on. On the sand in front of me was the perfect thing with which to cover up, but I couldn’t pick it up without exposing myself. As they walked further and further away, Ian and Matthew were still rubbernecking in my direction, realising my conundrum, but conveniently not alerting mum to it. So if I reached down to pick up the towel, I couldn’t be facing that way, or I’d be flashing Ian and Matthew. That’s when it occurred to me that no matter which way I faced, I would either be uncovering my front to boys, or have my butt facing boys as I bent over. Or both.

I started turning around, hoping that there was some direction I could stand in where nobody would see my front, back, or side profile, but of course, that wasn’t possible. * * *

As I turned, I saw the boogie-board brothers were for the moment talking to their mother. They were, of course, still keeping one eye on me the whole time, undoubtedly not wanting to miss my current full-body rotation. Perhaps their mother was about to send them away, and I’d have a brief moment where I only had to worry about Harrison and his sister seeing me.

As I surveyed the sandcastle siblings, I was horrified to see that Harrison had started sculpting a well remembered and distressingly accurate replica of my breasts in the sand. I spotted them just as his sister realised what he was sculpting, and could only watch on as she fought against Harrison to try and kick them out of existence. Unfortunately it looked like her brother had more than enough strength to keep her at bay.

At that moment, my view was blocked by two familiar figures stepping right in front of me holding boogie-boards - their sudden appearance almost startling me out of my hand-coverage. I struggled to breathe as their proximity to my scarcely shielded nakedness enveloped my natural life functions in a vice-like grip. They had such a close-up view of me now!
“Hey”, the older of the brothers said. “Don’t worry about that kid. Our mum sent us over to block his view.”

“Oh my gosh, thank you!” I said gratefully. I smiled over at their mother in lieu of a thank you wave, since it’s all I could manage with my need to cover until the boys had turned the other way. She smiled back, before returning to laying back down in her little beach-bed.

“Okay, we’ll stand here shoulder-to-shoulder holding our boards in front of us, to block his view while you get yourself covered”, The older of the boys explained. As I watched them get into position creating their makeshift privacy wall, however, the true intentions of their willingness to help became much clearer.

The privacy wall plan might have been okay in theory, except that as they positioned their boogie-boards in front of their legs, they were facing me.

There was no way that this is what their mother had in mind sending them over here. Why wasn’t she keeping an eye on them!?

“C-could one of you just pick up the towel for me?” I nervously proposed the obvious.

The two boys looked at each other, and then back behind them.

“Uhhh,” the younger boy spoke for the first time, a tone of nervousness in his voice “That kid’s on the move to peek around us,” he warned, conveniently ignoring my suggestion as if there were no time to entertain it. “You should hurry, we can’t block his view forever.”

I looked back, and saw that Ian and Matthew were still looking in my direction, but were so far up the beach now that uncovering while facing them might be a pill I was willing to swallow to get this over with. They would see my naked front, but only for a second, and at a distance where any particular details would be hard to make out. They would be able to see that I was naked, but probably not be able to discern my little tit-cones or pubic area. Having the boogie-board boys so close to my rear now was far worse than it would have been before, but I suspected this was as good a chance as I was going to get. I was trying desperately to convince myself this wasn’t a big deal. The important thing was to get back to the safety of the car, and go get my poisoning reversed.

And so, in a panic I was trying and failing to ignore, and with all time and circumstances against me, I took the arm that was covering my chest and promptly crouched to pick up my mother’s beach towel. As I dropped, I made sure to tuck my other hand further between my legs in an effort to cover as much of my underside and momentarily separated butt cheeks as I could manage.

Springing back to a standing position with the towel in my grasp, I realised the logistics of wrapping the towel around me would require both hands. Keeping my legs tightly together and dangling the towel down the centre of my body, I hesitantly withdrew my fingers from where they had been tucked between my thighs. So far, so good.

Now came the part where I would momentarily be the most vulnerable I had been all afternoon. Delaying would be my downfall, I thought. Better to get this done as quickly as possible. Lifting the towel up, I worked to find the two side corners, in order to quickly unravel it to wrap under my arms and around me, as my own towel had been earlier. Looking down fleetingly, I could see my full pubic area with its delicate smattering of pubic hairs around the top doing little to hide it from the sun’s warm glow reflecting up from the sand. Even with the towel outstretched in front of me as a partial blockade, my privates were immaculately lit should anyone score a view between my body and where the towel hung.

“Now!” I heard the older boy whisper as I finally found the two corners I needed and held the towel out wide in front of me. Before I could work out what their game was, my back was blasted with an unexpected gust of wind.

I just about screamed as the towel was blown outwards and away from hanging in front of my body. All that I managed to let out though was a whimper as I felt the towel corners in my pinched fingers slip away. The boys had taken to using their boogie-boards as giant fans, and though their plan was probably just to cause the front of the towel to lift up and give me a bit of a shock, they must have been doubly shocked with how powerful their fans had turned out to be. Suddenly the towel was fluttering back down to the sand in front of me, three metres (around ten feet) away. * *

I ran forward, not bothering to even try and cover my front at this stage, the desperation to simply get the towel back having taken number one priority. I stumbled in the sand amid the madness of the moment, falling on my hands and knees as the older of the boys circled around my side. Not having time to get back to my feet, I remained kneeling, reverting to shielding my secrets with my hands again as he came into my view.

“Oops, oh, man, I’m so sorry,” He laughed awkwardly, though barely disguising the fact that he was simultaneously checking out what he could see of my front as I fumbled to ameliorate my coverage, “We were just playing around. Didn’t mean to actually make you drop it, I swear!”

I don’t know if you’ve ever tried getting to your feet from a kneeling position while also trying to hide your privates with both hands, but it’s not an easy thing to do. Especially in loose sand. Sufficed to say, while I was working to achieve this, the boy picked up the towel, saying “Lemme get that for ya”.

“No!” I urged, no longer being able to trust that he had any intentions other than ones driven by a desire to see more of me.
“No, really”, the boy said, still watching my front like a hawk on Adderall. “It’s okay. Here.”

He held the towel out to me just as his younger brother caught up to us and stood beside him. The younger sibling had a huge grin on his face, giving away their game completely.

I felt my throat tightening as my internal alarms started going off. I would have to uncover myself, to forfeit the secrets of my girlhood in front of both of these boys - even if just momentarily - in order to get the towel back and wrap it around me. And there was no question that my desperation to reclaim the towel was what these boys were counting on. They knew how much I needed that towel. I would probably expose myself to them for that towel.

No fricking way! Like they weren’t geared up for a game of keepings off!

Another looming concern was that if I didn’t do something quick, Harrison would be joining this audience soon enough. And I absolutely knew his M.O.

Here’s the thing: in retrospect, I could have yelled for help at this moment, alerting the boys’ seemingly ignorant parents of what was going on… But sometimes you don’t think of the most sensible thing in the heat of the moment. Sometimes your brain is buzzing with a dizzying noise of everything you don’t want to happen, and you can’t see the most rational of paths to take. So I did the only thing I could think to do.

I ran.

Abandoning the towel altogether, I simply fled the scene, covering myself with my hands as best I could, zipping straight between the two boys, headed toward the car as fast as my feet would carry me.

One final encore of my jiggling (now reddened) bottom was the last look of me these boys would get.

I arrived back at the car out of breath, as everyone was about to climb in. The boys took one look at me still without the towel, obviously wondering just what they might have missed in the last 30 or so seconds after they walked out of view of me on the beach.

As Ian opened the car door and motioned for me to climb in, I was so relieved to be getting out of the public space, as well as keeping busy trying to maintain as much bodily coverage as I could while manoeuvring myself into the car. With all of this whizzing through my mind, I didn’t stop to think about back-seat logistics. Before I knew it, I was sitting in the middle, flanked either side by Ian and Matthew. *

While I was on the beach, I couldn’t wait to get back to the privacy of the car. Now that I was here, I realised just how much more intimate and vulnerable things were for me. Not only were Ian and Matthew now closer to me than they had been since I first disrobed, but I was now painfully aware of how precarious my arm-covering was when it was able to be viewed from the sides. I pressed my arms into myself a little more firmly, eager to disguise the shape of the protrusions on my chest as much as I could.

“Can I borrow someone’s towel?” I asked, incredibly anxious about being able to keep my arms as perfectly positioned as they were for the whole car ride, while sitting so close to the boys.
“Ours already got packed away in the back!” Ian almost sang as he and Matthew closed their doors.
“What happened to mine?” My mum asked, closing her own door and turning around to apparently notice my continued towellessness for the first time.
“I couldn’t pick it up without uncovering, and there were boys there!”
“So you just left it behind?!”
“I couldn’t pick it up, mum!” I repeated loudly. *
“Oh screw it,” she said, turning back around to fasten her seatbelt, “we’ve got bigger issues right now”.
“Mum!” I complained, “I need something to cover up with!”
“You’ve got hands, haven’t you?”, my mother suggested dismissively as she turned the key in the ignition.

And then, I swear only a few seconds later, she said “Okay, everyone buckle up!”

Was she for real??? How exactly was I supposed to do that?

I looked left and right at the two boys pinning me in on opposite sides as they fastened their seatbelts with their two luxuriously unoccupied hands, while all the time they made sure to keep one eye on me, to see how I would navigate the task. As I looked to my right, I could see that of course, the damn centre seatbelt had obviously done that irritating thing where it tucks itself into the nook of the base and back seating cushions.

“Ian, can you-“ I began, before Ian cut me off
“Mum, Bridget’s not got her seatbelt on!”
Mum gave an exasperated sigh. “Bridget-“
“I can’t do it and cover myself at the same time!” I complained.
“Boys, can one of you do it for her please” Mum instructed, trying not to explode again.
“The seatbelt or the covering?” Ian cheekily queried, causing Matthew to giggle.
“The cov- ah, the belt you brat!” Mum replied with a roll of her eyes, her tension having been diffused a little by Ian’s lighthearted quip.
“Oh, I’m glad you’re all having fun!” I grumbled.

I watched one of Ian’s hands slip down into the crevice behind me to fish for the elusive seatbelt. His hand slowly shifted further and further behind me, until I felt his fingers brush against my right buttock.

“Hey!” I yelped, and he quickly pulled his hand away and placed it on his knee.
“Sorry, I slipped!” He said, “Matthew, I think the belt and buckle are probably closer to your side anyway, given that the clasp is here on my side. Can you try finding it?”

I felt so stupid for not identifying the clasp side and realising I should have deferred to Matthew first. Ian of course had been more than happy to take advantage of my oversight without mentioning it. I looked up at the ceiling, knowing exactly the game they were playing at, but unable to do anything to stop it. Knowing Matthew would be more likely to behave with the right stern look, I gave him one. He looked sheepishly away, before shifting his focus to the dark, narrow gap between the seat-back and my unclothed butt.

I stared forwards, hoping my glare had done the trick. I could sense his hand shifting behind my behind.
And then I felt it make contact.
“Sorry!” He said before I could vocalise an objection. It sounded genuine, but unlike Ian, Matthew did not pull his hand away, and I could feel it shifting around. It was impossible to tell if he was actually in the process of trying to dig the seatbelt out of the nook, or if he was all-in on the opportunity to fondle and feel up my lower back and upper buttocks.
“Can you lift up for a second?” Matthew quietly asked.
Without being able to use my hands, it was difficult, but I managed to raise myself off the seat by leaning into the backrest and pushing my lower half up with my feet. As I held myself in this position, I eyed Matthew like a hawk to make sure he wasn’t angling himself to try and get a look at my underside. I know he’d already seen my naked bum, but that didn’t mean he had a lifetime pass. * * *

No sooner had his hand disappeared beneath me, I felt my feet lose traction against the flooring, causing me to drop back down into the seat with a shriek.
My bare butt landed fully on top of Matthew’s hand.
“Ah!” Matthew yelled, obviously as shocked by me swiftly sitting on his hand as I was.
“Bloody hell, Bridge!” Ian laughed, scarcely able to believe what had just happened.
I could feel Matthew’s hand squirming about against my bum, and hoped he was merely trying to extricate it.
I fervently scrambled to regain my footing, and after a false start that caused me to raise slightly and then drop back down again (to more laughter from Ian), I was able to fully raise my rear allowing Matthew to have his hand back. *

I saw him simply staring at his hand after retrieving it, and could just imagine the thought “I’m never washing this hand again” echoing through his stupid little brain.

I couldn’t bring myself to apologise for what had just happened, though I suspect from the dazed expression on Matthew’s face, no apology was necessary or indeed expected. After all, he just got a free grope of a girl’s bare butt.

Then, he spoke.

“Um, Sorry, I didn’t get to grab it”, he said.

Bullshit, I thought to myself, before realising he was referring to the seatbelt.

“Oh for the love of god…” I muttered, raising my posterior for him yet again. *

This time, he was in and out very quickly, knowing from his previous research mission exactly where the belt had lodged itself.

“Here you- oh…”, he said, cutting himself short as he realised the remaining part of the task still ahead of him.

I don’t think either of us felt comfortable as Matthew led the seatbelt buckle on its journey to the clasp on my far side, but I knew one of us was feeling like the luckiest boy alive. Hint: It was the boy.

As Matthew approached the midway point, he hesitated, hovering his hand over my hand, which in turn was stuffed fixedly between my legs and shielding my crotch.

“What?” I asked as he suspended his movements, eager for him to move his hand on from where it was floating.
“Uhm…” He said, clearing his throat, “The belt… needs to go under that hand…”
“No it does not!” I balked.

No doubt Matthew knew I’d surely let hell freeze over before complying with such a suggestion, but I guess he had held out some hope, as he let out a quiet sigh.

Matthew reached across the rest of the way, and by the time he was working the buckle into the clasp, his left arm was inadvertently leaning against my front. His struggling to reach across me began nudging my arms out of place. *

“Hey, watch it!” I grumped, prompting him to quickly reposition himself. I was already barely concealed, and my last vestige of modesty I was clinging to were the small slivers of my body these two boys had yet to see. The fact that it could all come crashing down with something as simple as an accidental nudge against my body was a terrifying sign.

Ian could have easily finished the task for Matthew, completing the buckling of the belt on his side, but he was far too happy to simply watch on as his sister and his friend experienced an awkward moment together.

“Mum! Ian’s looking at me again!” I complained. “Every time you tell them not to look, they just wait a minute and then start looking again!”
“Oh good lord!” Mum blasted in exasperation, “Kids! I don’t have the time or energy right now to keep doing this! Boys, stop looking at her! And Bridget, if they go back to looking at you, you’re just going to have to suck it up and live with it! Christ almighty!”

I blinked in disbelief, for lack of available hands to be able to clear out my ears and ensure I’d heard correctly. I’m sure she thought that her outburst was equally balanced, but she had essentially just said “Boys, I can’t be bothered telling you off anymore, so Bridget’s body is now a playground for your eyes”.

Finally, we heard the beautiful click of the seatbelt fastening, and Matthew extracted himself from my front with as much dignity as he could. Matthew of course then proceeded to take advantage of his all-access viewing pass.

I turned toward Ian, expecting to see him grinning stupidly back at me again, but he was busy flicking at his phone screen.
“Mum, there’s a number at the bottom of that recall page” he helpfully mentioned, “It’s a poisons help line that they say you should call ‘in the event of skin discolouration’.”
“Okay, well maybe give them a call”, my mother said as we began to roll out of the parking lot. “I was going to head to the hospital, but maybe we can avoid that.”
Ian had already called the number before mum had finished speaking. “Hello?” He said, “Yes, hi… My name’s Ian… We have a girl here, my sister, Bridget, who has been wearing a recalled SunSistrz bikini…. Apparently they have some harmful chemicals in…”
Ian paused as the person on the other end of the line spoke. I couldn’t hear what the other person was saying, but the casual, unconcerned expression disappeared from Ian’s face for a moment, and his brows arched, as if he was suddenly being made aware of the seriousness of the situation.
“Yeah, yeah,” Ian answered the inaudible expert on the phone, “those ones. Uhuh… Yeah, we were at the beach so she’s washed off in the ocean, and….”
“Can you put her on speakerphone?” My mum whispered.
“Sorry,” Ian said into the phone, “If you don’t mind, I’m just going to put you on speakerphone so my mum can hear you… just a second…”
Ian prodded at his phone menu for a second, and the speaker came to life.
“Okay,” Ian said, holding his phone out further from his face, “Sorry, you can continue now.”

The voice began speaking over the tinny phone speaker, and sounded calm but pragmatic.
“Hi there, I’m Helen from the Poisons Information Centre. So what I was about to say,” the voice advised, “Is that saltwater actually opens up the pores in your skin, which in this case may have led to a higher, more rapid level of chemical absorption when the garment was in contact with your sister’s skin, Ian.”
This was not what I wanted to hear. Shit. My only reassurance at this point was that Helen didn’t sound panicked.

“Sorry,” Mum chimed in, “This is Bridget’s mother speaking. Surely opening up the pores would also have helped to remove the poison when she went back in the water to wash off though?”
“Normally yes,” Helen explained, “however the hazardous compounds in the dye-setting chemicals become active when exposed to high levels of salinity. Essentially, depending on how long she took to start cleaning herself, and how long she was cleaning herself for, would determine whether she has effectively removed the dangerous chemicals from her body.”

“Well,” Ian reported, “She had the wet bikini on for about 15 minutes before she removed it, and then it was another five minutes or so before she got in the water to clean herself off”.
“I see,” Said Helen, not wavering from her calm demeanour, “And how long did she clean herself for?”

My voice caught in my throat as I went to answer for myself, leaving Ian to speak for me again. I felt like a freaking toddler whose parent was answering on their behalf.
“She was in the water for five minutes, though I know for a fact she wasn’t actually cleaning herself for that whole time. I’d say the time she was properly scrubbing herself was around two to three minutes.”

I was sure it must have been longer than that, but this whole afternoon was awash with whirlwind events interspersed with embarrassing moments that felt like an eternity, so who was I to judge time?

“And what did she use to scrub herself?” Helen enquired.
“Just her hands” Mum answered.

“I’m not sure she will have cleared herself of the poison in that time, and without any proper cleaning implements”, Helen prognosticated. “Did she dry off thoroughly?”
“Uhh… No…”, Ian admitted, “She just kinda mostly sun-dried because she didn’t have a towel. Between getting out of the water and getting in the car, she was sorta just standing around with her hands covering herself. In fact she was doing that before going in and washing herself off too.”
“Oh”, Helen said, sounding a little disappointed in this news, “That’s not good. She should be avoiding any skin-to-skin contact with the affected areas, because the oils in the skin and salts in her sweat may be enough to cause potential permanent blemishes and discolouration if the area hasn’t been cleaned properly. Is she still touching those areas now?”

I stared at the bug-eyed Ian in disbelief, until my mother snapped me out of it, shouting into the rear-view mirror at me.
“Bridget, you heard her! Hands off!”
I lifted my hand and arm away from my crotch and breast areas respectively, now hovering the limbs redundantly half an inch or so in front of them, in the absurd hope that I was still successfully shielding myself from the boys’ curious eyes while not making physical contact. Surprisingly, at least from what I could tell, neither of the boys made too much of a clear effort to angle around my raised hands or arms, for which I was extremely relieved. Matthew shifted in his seat a little, so I suspect he was thinking about trying to peek under my hands, but had so far refrained.
“Bridget!” My mother repeated, apparently not able to tell from the front seat that I was no longer touching myself.
“I’m not touching!” I assured her.
“Matthew, is she still touching herself or not?” Mum asked, clearly trusting my schoolmate more than me.

Matthew shifted in his seat again, realising he had just been effectively asked by this adult to actively try and get a look at my exposed privates. Naturally, he wasted no time, and with the best “this is for the greater good, honestly” face he could put on, leaned forward in his seat and tilted his head to try and peer into the slim space in between the underside of my hands and the areas they were desperately wanting to keep covered up.

I watched Matthew’s face as it approached the viewing angle between my upheld arm and the distinctly female contours of my chest. After all this painstaking work to keep these boys from seeing my secrets, I was now deliberately not quite covering them, playing an active role in letting him sneak a peek of my private parts! *

I waited to see his expression change; any indication that his studied angling had at last brought my breast buds into his line of sight. It took longer than I anticipated, but then… a slow, gentle widening of his eyes. And then in an instant, any facade of this not being a big deal to him turned to dust as he allowed a tiny excited snicker to escape his nose.

It was tortuous enough to watch and hear this, but I then had to continue enduring his gaze as it drifted down my body, and he began to angle himself to see beneath my other hovering hand, that most off-limits of all areas. *

This time, he didn’t elicit a sound. He just stared, frozen in time, like a living photograph, immortalising the nuances of this very moment in his mind. I think this was the point that the reality of what he was getting to look at kicked in, and it’s quite possible he stopped breathing for a minute. This is what a real life girl looks like down there, he must have been thinking. This was the very juncture in his life where a girls’ privates ceased being a mere concept. They were right there in front of him, just casually existing within his field of vision, like it was no big deal. * *

“Uh, n-no,” Matthew said with a strange medley of nervousness and excitement in his voice, “I can see her… her um… She’s not touching them…”
It felt like Matthew took longer than needed to bring himself away from his little look-see, but maybe I was just hyper aware of every nanosecond his eyes were trained between my legs and across my chest. *

“Omigosh!” Ian exclaimed, “Are your nipples okay?”
I realised he too was taking a peek in the gap I was being forced to provide, and eyeing my perky little points.
“Yes honey,” Mum answered on my behalf, “She’s just starting to grow breasts. That’s what they look like in the early stage”.
“Jeeeezus! They look so weird!” He laughed, I hope more out of relief for my apparent safety than ridicule. The laugh still stung nonetheless, as I couldn’t help but read it as the latter. I tried to re-angle my hovering arm, but quickly came to the conclusion that there was no angle which would truly prevent the boys from now seeing whatever they wanted to see, whenever they wanted to. Still, I kept trying to block them whenever I spotted them staring for too long. Unfortunately their ability to then inevitably re-angle themselves only served to twist the screws on my frustrating, unfair plight.

“Ian,” Mum sternly said, “Behave yourself. Bridget’s breasts look perfectly normal for her age.”
“Sorry, sorry,” Ian said, continuing to stare around my blockades, “I’m just not used to them yet”. The way he subtly emphasised “yet” was obviously designed to tease me. I would have flat-out punched him in the face if I didn’t have such a strong aspiration to continue my hover-cover attempts.

“Helen, am I doing the right thing in heading to the nearest hospital?” Mum asked Ian’s phone with a wavering in her voice.
“If it’s been less than ninety minutes since the exposure, I wouldn’t worry” Helen’s ever-reassuring voice advised, “I can step you through neutralising the chemicals over the phone. Do you have access to some latex gloves and baby wipes?”
“We’re in the car, about ten to fifteen minutes away from home” mum said, weaving in and out of traffic, “but there’s a supermarket a couple of blocks from here, we’ll be there in a minute”.

Helen made a positive-sounding hum. “That’s fantastic news. Don’t worry Bridget, we’ll have this taken care of in no time.”
“Thank you” I demurely replied.
“Is there any particular brand of baby wipes we should be looking for when we get to the supermarket?” Mum questioned.
“Most brands will be fine,” Helen informed, “The one thing you need to be looking for in the ingredients listing is silver dihydrogen citrate.”
“Silver what, sorry?” Ian asked, tapping his phone to bring up his notes app.
“Silver dihydrogen citrate” Helen enunciated slowly. “That’s the magic ingredient that will dull and slow any further effects of the chemicals in her skin. Most brands will have it, but it pays to check.”
“Got it”, Ian said as he thumbed the words into his phone. “Anything else we need other than that and the gloves?”
“Is she already showing visible blemishes on her skin?” Helen asked.
“She was getting pretty pink in those areas…” Ian offered before looking me in the eyes for the first time in a while.

“Bridge,” He said, shifting this way and that in an attempt to thwart my arm shielding, “Move your hands out of the way so I can see how red your skin is now.”
“What? No!” I vehemently protested, “It’s the same as it was before!”
“Bridget,” Helen said in a slightly more stern tone, catching me offguard, “I’m sorry, but I need a proper description of the area to assess how severe things are and properly advise on treatment. I know this is hard for you but I need you to cooperate.”

I stared down at the small gap between my body and my hovering arms.
“It’s pink and blotchy around my… on my chest… and… around… around my…” I closed my eyes, not believing what I was about to say in front of these boys. “…My… v-vulva…” I quietly mumbled.
Ian’s mouth tightened, and I just knew he was fighting off a smile. As my brother, he knew firsthand just how secretive I normally was about my body. Hearing me even admit the notion that I had genitals must have seemed to him like the sweetest of victories in our unspoken sibling rivalry.
I couldn’t say what Matthew’s reaction had been, as I couldn’t even bring myself to look his way now.

There was an unusually long pause before Helen spoke again. When she did, the slight warmness that had come into her voice over the conversation had waned, replaced with the more sterile tone she had begun the conversation with.

“Bridget, I’m trying to help prevent any permanent scarring on your body, but I’m not sure you realise how important it is that I have a clear understanding of your skin condition right now.”
This was all the prompting my mum needed for another outburst.
“Bridget, stop this rot! Do as the girl says and move your damn hands!” She castigated.

I moved my ‘damn hands’ to my sides and gripped the sides of my legs with a huff of defeat and annoyance that I was being forced to once again expose myself to the boys.

The boys finally got what I’m certain they had been hoping for since this whole day had begun unravelling: An uninterrupted, unobscured view of the naked girl’s body. And knowing my mum had officially announced retirement from chastising the boys for looking at me, it really was a situation they were salivating to take advantage of. With mum not dissuading them, I had no recourse save taking things into my own hands with a last-ditch attempt to shame them into giving me some modesty.

“Don’t you know it’s rude to stare!” I yelled at them both.

Ian allowed his smirk to return as he deliberately and defiantly continued staring at the little peaks of my breast buds. “It’s also rude to point!” He shot back.

I felt thoroughly mortified at his comment. Matthew burst out with a squawk in an attempt to stifle a sudden laugh. I could feel the modicum of age-based superiority I had over my younger brother tangibly shrivelling away. I wanted to curl up into a ball and become lost forever in the car seat cushions. Instead, I closed my eyes, so at least I didn’t have to witness their lewd staring. I squeezed the outer sides of my legs as makeshift stress-relievers.

“Ah,” Ian said, “You probably shouldn’t be touching your legs like that, Bridge. The toxins might be in the skin of your hands from handling the swimsuit.”
“Oh yes,” Helen confirmed, “As I said before, please avoid any skin-on-skin contact in those areas that have been in contact with the swimsuit. Body oils and sweat will exacerbate the issue and make the poison more difficult to remove.”
I let go of my legs and let my hands flop limply to my sides like a lifeless doll. Right in that moment, I almost wished I was one too.
“Does that mean her legs shouldn’t be touching each other?” Ian asked so casually that I wanted to murder him.
“No skin should be touching any other skin in those areas”, Helen reiterated, almost sounding irritated that she needed to spell it out in so many ways.

I saw my mother’s eyes boring into me through the rear-view mirror. This was insanity. I groaned in abject shame as I parted my legs, stopping only as I felt resistance against Ian and Matthew’s own legs.

“Oh!” I heard Matthew gasp. I looked down and saw what he was unmistakably reacting to. There, between my legs was an entirely unobstructed view of the most sacred piece of a girl’s anatomy. And with my legs parted, the invasion of my privacy had reached a new milestone; the boys and I were now looking at the slightly parted lips of my labia, between which a humble sampling of my inner folds were visible. * * *

“So can somebody please provide a description of the skin condition in the affected areas?” Helen asked again, trying to get us all back on track.

“Uh, y-yeah, uhh…” Ian stammered as he apparently tried to refocus and form words for Helen. It took him a moment of just staring, taking in what his inexperienced eyes had no right seeing, before he tried again. “It’s looking a little more red around the swimsuit areas than it was ten or so minutes ago when we were still at the beach, and has blotchy raised areas, more like a rash than a graze”.

“Is there any swelling or raised bumps in the blotchy areas?” Helen asked. Ian’s eyes momentarily went to my breast buds as she asked this, before looking me in the eyes with a suppressed smirk. I knew the joke he wanted to make, he knew that I knew, and that seemed to thankfully be enough for him.

“Oh, hmm…” he pondered. “The blotchy parts of the skin are a liiiiitle bit raised I think….”

His face drifted closer to my crotch as he allegedly checked if the skin was raised, and I wanted to scream. Instead I tensed up, terrified that he was just going to keep getting closer and closer until his face made contact.

He stopped, though was close enough that I could feel his breath on my upper thighs. I watched his eyes jittering about, taking me in. And then he spoke again, this time to me.

“Bridget, is this part normally this pink looking?” He asked concernedly, and timidly gesturing a finger toward the opening between my legs.
“Oh my fucking god,” I groaned at the ceiling in mortification, “Yes Ian, it’s my fucking vagina!”
“Bridget! Language!” My mother shouted, “Your brother is trying to help and doesn’t know these things!”
“Nor should he!” I shouted back.
“Just answer his questions and watch your mouth! We’re just about to pull in at the shops!”

“What’s that lump?” Matthew now joined in, leaning across to no doubt make the most of the opportunity, “Just at the top of her… vulva?”
No, no, no…. This boy sounded like he enjoyed making mention of my vulva far too much. This whole process was for my safety - nobody should have been enjoying this! And my lord, this was not a conversation I had any comfort going into with a pair of boys my own age!
“Oh,” Ian said as he noticed what Matthew was referring to, “Is that lump from today, Bridge?” he questioned with some concern.
“No, it’s not new, it’s… ugh… a normal part of girls…bits…” Was as much detail as I could bear to give.
“Are they talking about your clitoral hood, Bridget?” Mum questioned, for some reason pushing for clarification.
“Mum!” I screamed. How could she!
“Bridget, I’m not trying to embarrass you, I’m asking for Helen’s sake!” She argued. “Now let her know - is there a lump that shouldn’t be there, or is it just your clitoral hood?”
“…It’s… my clitoral hood…” I murmured in defeat.
“It’s her ‘clitoral hood’?” Ian repeated to Helen, in a redundant excuse to repeat the words that he could see me having trouble admitting to.
“Clitoral… hood…” Matthew whispered to himself as he stared it down, I suppose storing this terminology and information away for later research.
“Can everyone stop saying ‘clitoral hood’, please?!” I begged in humiliation. It was clear that the boys didn’t know what this was, and I hated the fact that my own private parts had become their gateway to a detailed education on girls’ anatomy. * *

“And Bridget,” Helen asked, “Are you experiencing any soreness in the nipples?”
The boys snorted in immature laughter. They knew this word.

I did my best to ignore them.

“They…”

It was like magic - I uttered one word, and it was instantly quiet again. The boys were eager to learn more when it came to girl secrets.
Fuck this was unfair! The boys had no right or need for this information!

In the interests of my safety, I forced myself to answer.

“They were a little bit sore when I had my arm pressed against them, but I think that’s just tenderness from… I’m…”

I trailed off before trying again.

“My breasts are still developing”, I reminded her, hoping this was all that needed to be said about the tenderness of my nipples.
“How long have they been coming in for?” Helen asked, the boys silently hanging on every word.
“Uhhhm,” I stalled, “I guessssss….”
Every effort to ignore the boys just reminded me of the boys, who were privy to every word of this. I swallowed and closed my eyes. * *
“A little less than two years, but they’ve become a lot more… noticeable in the last ten months or so.”

I felt so uncomfortably warm from my blushing that I hoped I would soon start to evaporate.

“Oh sweetie,” Helen said, “I understand. Don’t worry, you don’t need to say any more about it.”

What more would she have expected me to say? I just spilled every solitary bean I had to spill, about the state of my boobs and their entire development up to this point, with the entire car!

Hope you like this second part. Once again, if this has gone in a direction you’re enjoying, let me know, as it’ll encourage me to work on the conclusion!
MY STORIES:
Compromising Situation (MIXED ENM/ENF)
What About Charlie? - Expanding a Vignette (ENF/CMNF)
What a Time to Recall! (ENF/CMNF)
A Frame of Shame (ENM/CFNM)
Boyd vs Girls (ENM/CFNM)
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Re: What a Time to Recall! (Parts 1+2 now available)

Post by edithdick »

I wonder if they’ll remember to get the towel out when they get to the store… no time to waste I suppose,
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