Pantsing and Stripping Forums

Comforted in my arms, Cindy recovered a little bit from the initial shock of her naked debut. Once her sniffling abated, she sat quiet as a mouse and stared at nothing. I had seen that shell-shocked look before. The weight of her nude predicament weighed heavily upon the young teen and threatened to overwhelm her fragile emotional state any second. I knew just what would make her feel better.

"I like your hair like that," I offered, "you did a good job with your curls, and that bow is pretty."

My compliment was sincere. Growing up, she braided her hair a lot and had gotten pretty good at it. She loved twin braids and pig tails even though they were childish. Lately, she had been trying out more difficult styles - copying whatever her big sisters were doing. But Patricia insisted that all her daughters attend church with their hair down.

Today, thanks to the curlers she had worn all night, Cindy's silky, light brown hair cascaded down around her bare shoulders in a smooth, elegant manner - not a single strand out of place. The bow part way down the back, I had at first assumed was just a plain, white ribbon. But looking closer, I saw fancy embroidery - a delicate lace stitching that glittered whenever it caught the light just right. Those little extra details that she always put into her appearance often got overlooked.

Her stricken face perked up ever so slightly at my thoughtful compliment. Reaching into my pack, I offered her my handkerchief. And after she had dried her eyes and wiped the tears from her cheeks, she looked a lot better. But curled up in the rear-facing seat, she was still clearly bothered that she wasn’t wearing any clothes. Fearing what would happen to her fragile state once we arrived at church, I addressed the elephant in the room straight on.

"I, uh, thought I saw something on your...belly, earlier," I casually posited, "something colorful?"

A brief frown flashed across her face.

"I wanted a heart like Mary, but-"

"You mean like her...hair?" I asked, trying to find a delicate way of describing it.

With a sniffle, Cindy confirmed my guess. When she discovered that Mary and Bea had both shaved distinctive shapes into their pubic hair without telling her, it had hurt her feelings. Wanting to be just like her big sister, she must have woken up early and tried to make her own heart. But that didn't explain how she ended up with whatever colorful adornment she was now hiding down there.

"Let me see it," I said. My words had the calm assurance of someone who expected compliance. She wasn't in trouble. I just needed to see.

Despite the intimate nature of my request, Cindy did not hesitate to show it to me. Her sisters trusted me and made no effort to hide their privates from me anymore. Why shouldn't she follow their lead and give me the same access to her body? After all, I acted like their guardian. The time for keeping secrets from me was over. When she untangled her legs and lowered her feet to the floorboard, moving her hands out of the way in the process, I had to wrestle for control over my eyes to keep them from lingering on her chest.

Looking down her skinny, impossibly smooth tummy, I easily found what she was trying to show me. It was a sticker, the kind you apply with a wet cloth, coating her lower abdomen. Clearly a sucker, it had a brightly colored, round spiral head with a stick angling down diagonally. A classic lollypop. I licked my lips.

Letting my gaze drift a little lower, I was treated to the cutest little cleft of flesh you've ever seen. I could see why her attempt to shape her pubic hair into a heart had failed. She hardly had any to start with and the shaving attempt had left her abdomen completely bald. Even the thin coating of soft hairs growing on her lower lips were only barely visible with close inspection. When shaving failed, she must have switched to the next best thing - a temporary tattoo.

Before I got carried away gazing at her budding flower, I asked, "where did you get that?"

"At the Shoney's," she replied, as if the answer had been obvious, "they have a vending machine by the front door that has them. There was a heart, but you don't get to pick. And I only had enough for one."

We had passed a Shoney's up the main road, but it wasn't that close to our motel. She must have left pretty early to walk there and back. Now I knew why she had been absent all morning.

Regretting how harshly I had treated her the night before, a memory came back to me. While I was drifting in and out of sleep, tucked in nice and cozy between my naked bedmates, I had seen a restless figure up and about. I never stopped to consider how Cindy would react to finding she was the only one of us not sleeping in the bed after I had banished her to the cot.

Pacing at the foot of the bed, she had reached a dreadful conclusion. Her own clothes were the problem. As long as she was wearing them and her sisters were naked, she would be cut off from them, and from me. Because she had no control over their punishment, there was only one way to ensure equal treatment. One way to keep from being separated all the time. All she had to do was forsake her clothes and join them.

It must have been an agonizing decision, to strip naked and leave all her possessions behind like that. But her gambit was working so far. The unexpected emergence of a third naked Conyor sister ensured that Cindy wouldn't be left out of any future sibling activities. Now that she had willingly joined her sisters in a state of total nudity, it fell to me to watch over and protect her. In fact, as the youngest, she needed it the most. And as my father's son, I would never abandon my duty. She may have lost her clothes and her modesty, but she had also gained much.

When I felt the car slow, I raised my head and looked through the front windshield. We had arrived at the small country church a little way outside of town. Focused on helping Cindy, I hadn't given the other girls any attention since getting in the car. I now saw Bea sitting with an unfocused, far-off expression on her face - summoning the courage to face her second day of naked vacation. Mary was squirming in her seat and taking anxious breaths. And as the car engine came rumbling to a stop with a distressed wheeze, she let out a similar, pitiful one.

Returning my attention to the back-back seat, I saw Cindy looking down at her utterly naked body and patting various places on it - her knee, her rib cage, her upper arms. As if, if she wished it hard enough, she could make her dress magically reappear and she wouldn't have to go through with what was about to happen.

"Ready?" I asked, as I opened the door and exited the car without a second thought.

She didn't look ready. The poor thing's dress had not appeared, and she was still naked. Now that she was living, rather than merely witnessing what it was like to be without clothes, she was having second thoughts. But it was too late to back out now. She looked up at me with big, scared eyes; her hopes dashed, and her face turned white. But when I nodded encouragingly and held out my hand, she let me help her out of her seat and onto the sidewalk.

She started to sway; looking every bit like she was going to faint where she stood. I offered her my elbow for support. I was here for her and would not let her down. In a flash, she removed her left hand from where it was covering her chest and clutched my arm.

This time, the temptation to take a peek at her bare chest was too great. She still had a lot of growing to do to catch up with either of her sisters. But I marveled at how high and proud her breasts sat on her chest - two creamy round orbs, not quite as big as baseballs, filled to the brim with developmental potential. They were perfect little handfuls and a good fit for her younger torso.

Her nipples were little perky nubbins, smaller than Bea's, but nearer in shade to Mary. And they had the cutest little apron of pink flesh encircling them. Nicely positioned on her sweet breasts and practically pointing at the sky, they reflected Cindy's personality - always straining to see what was going on around her and practically begging for attention. Only when I felt my eyes start to go dry, did I realize what a spell her breasts had put me under and that I had been staring without blinking.

Ever a gentleman, I escorted my naked stepsister toward the entrance. She clung to my elbow for support as the hard soles of her dress shoes clip-clopped down the sidewalk and heralded her imminent, nude arrival.

As we approached the simple, wooden front door of the church, she reached up with her trembling other hand and checked her hair one last time. She always tried to make a good first impression. But with no dress to smooth down or tights to straighten, she only had that white ribbon fret over.

As soon as she could, she returned her right hand to guard duty between her legs. I'm not sure what she was more worried about people seeing - her lollypop or the equally sweet anatomy nestled between her legs which marked the entrance to her most sacred place. Fortunately, she could hide both the lolly and her puckered lower lips if she tilted her open hand at just the right angle.

Bea trailed behind me like a lost puppy - wearing nothing except her blank, shellshocked expression. I offered her no support other than to be a beacon that she could set her heading to while she floated upon her personal ocean of humiliation. It was more than she deserved.

Mary brought up the rear...literally. Using her hands and arms to cover as much of her front side as possible left her gorgeous, bottom bared for anyone who cared to look. More than the others, she dragged her feet all the way to the door. When I held it open for her, I saw a tormented look on her face.

It might as well have been a nightmare for Mary to attend a church service while completely naked. She had been engaged in a years-long wrestling match with her Sunday clothes ever since she started puberty and her anatomy started swelling in attention-grabbing ways. But today, there would be no seam gaps to fret over. No hemlines to tug at. No bra or panty lines to worry about. That's because, today, she was wearing only God's handiwork. She didn’t even have shoes to cover her

From the look she flashed as she passed, I knew she would give anything for a clothing trade right now. No price would be too great. But Frank's proximity made it impossible. All the sneaking around behind his back and wearing clothes she had been doing lately probably made it even harder on days like today when she had to do without.

Mary got so preoccupied with clothes that she couldn't relax without them. In the long run, I felt it would do her some good to come out of her shell and give up the constant attempts at minimizing her exposure. Her spectacular body was nothing to be ashamed of. And if she just faced that fact head-on, she would find being naked wasn't nearly as bad as she was building it up in her mind. And I knew just the thing to help her face her problems head-on.

Fully expecting the three naked girls to have caused a stir by merely stepping into the foyer, I pulled the door closed behind me when I entered and took command of the situation. I easily identified the preacher, sized him up, and found him lacking. Wanting to impress my father, I stepped forward with practiced assurance and offered salutations.

"Francis Askis," I announced, holding out my hand for him to shake, "and family."

Clutching a bible to his chest, the pastor reluctantly shook my hand. Standing before a group with multiple naked teens in it, he couldn't seem to find a comfortable direction to look.

"You'll have to excuse the girls," I added, my tone calm even to the point of being conversational, "they have a condition - can't be helped, I'm afraid. Say, who leads the choir?"

The pious man blinked. I could see his head spinning - struggling to catch up. His default mode would be to welcome any and all outsiders. As the good book in his hand commanded, assembling as a body of believers was one of the most important acts of worship - as was showing hospitality to outsiders of all stripes.

But did that hospitality extend to naked worshipers? And how would his regular flock react to such unusually adorned attendees? But despite their immodest dress, the girls were clearly innocents - standing meekly and trying their best to remain modest despite whatever mysterious affliction prevented them from wearing clothes.

Finally processing that I had asked him a question, he struggled to shift gears in his head but eventually stuttered out an answer.

"Th-that...that would be our choir director."

Stepping into the main sanctuary, he snapped his fingers to get someone's attention, then waved them over. A new man soon appeared. His warm smile faded when he saw my three naked stepsisters huddling together in the foyer with their heads bowed.

When I introduced myself and informed him that the womenfolk would be joining his choir for the day, Cindy let out a small "eep" and squeezed my elbow even harder.

"It's ok, " I assured her, quietly, "you'll be right next to your sisters and mother the whole time."

Realizing what I had just signed her up for, Mary made an audible groan of dismay which got Patricia's attention.

"Oh, I don't know about all that," she said.

She cast Frank a pointed look that meant she expected him to intervene. As usual, she did not get her way.

"Nonsense," he responded - a slightly amused look on his face, "the choir is always your favorite part. Go ahead...and take the girls with you. We'll save you a spot for when the singin' is through."

With a sigh, Patricia yielded to her husband's wishes and stood next to her three naked daughters. At a loss, the director looked at his associate for guidance, but the head preacher was no help. In fact, he was almost eager to pawn the problem off on someone else and distance himself from the morally perilous situation.

Shaking his head, the director escorted the newest members of his choir through a side door in the foyer. Frank and I walked down the single aisle of the chapel to stake an empty pew near the raised stage. I took a quick look around at the other parishioners - milling about in hushed conversations or sitting bored in their own pews waiting for the service to start - and smirked. They had no clue that they were about to witness a choir performance for the ages!

Now there's a church service I would attend! There will be at least three angels singing in that choir.

The girls can't get a break; Frankie exhibits his naked step sisters every chance he gets. Wondering if mom will complete the picture at some point with her own nude debut.

Thanks for the new chapter.

Love the Frank Jr is handling Cindy. The distinction in the girl’s personalities is drawn particularly well. Since Cindy is rather hairless, I wonder if it’ll be necessary for them all to match? Just so Cindy feels a part of it of course.

Love the Frank Jr is handling Cindy. The distinction in the girl’s personalities is drawn particularly well. Since Cindy is rather hairless, I wonder if it’ll be necessary for them all to match? Just so Cindy feels a part of it of course.

Way to go! Put the three naked sisters center-stage and have at it!

Now, will Frank Sr or Frank Jr steal the show as a guest speaker?

Wow, I wasn't expecting them to be put on display so perfectly. I guess since they're never going to be here again.... Man, I have to wonder how people are going to react to the temp tattoo. Back then, that was pretty outrageous.

Skylar21 wrote: Tue Oct 07, 2025 9:36 pm
I'm hoping that thing makes another appearance.

I think you're going to really enjoy day six.

The sanctuary was no cathedral, but it was big enough to hold about 150 people. Simple wooden pews ran in neat rows from the back doors with a wide aisle down the middle. The ceiling was vaulted with beautifully carved, hand-hewn timbers holding it up. The men who had built it clearly took pride in their craftsmanship. As my father and I were settling into our pew near the middle but a little closer to the front, an older man leaned forward from the row behind us.

"Say, I don't recall seeing you folks around here before," he said, his voice, gruff, but genial. Tapping his temple, he added, "I used to know everyone in the county, but the old recaller ain't what it used to be, hehe. Frank Fleemer, nice to meet ya."

When my father explained that we were passing through on vacation and informed the man that he just so happened to be speaking with a pair of Franks, junior and senior, he guffawed like it was the funniest thing he had ever heard.

"Well, what do you know? Three Franks in the same spot! If we sat in the same pew, people might think they were at a barbecue instead of church. Get it? Three frankfurters sitting in a row, ha!"

Frank's idea of Sunday clothes was his finest pair of overalls. He fit right in to the quaint, rural scene. Though I liked him at once, I thought my father would be annoyed by his corny jokes and rough edges. But chock-full of surprises lately, my father actually chuckled and invited the other Frank to sit by us.

"You'll have to excuse pastor Cruft," Frank said, as he came around to join us in our pew, "he tends to be dry and long-winded. Oh, he's a good man, for sure. But he does like the sound of his own voice a little too much, I'd say. It's not a bad place for a nap, but if you're looking for excitement, you've come to the wrong place."

I held my tongue. Something told me that, once my stepsisters got on stage, this would be the most exciting service this rural congregation had ever seen.

The audience was growing restless waiting for the service to start. I knew my stepsisters had to be the reason for the delay. The pastor and music minister were probably struggling to find a way to introduce them in a way that made sense and wouldn't get them in hot water with the congregation.

While we waited, my normally taciturn father engaged our friendly new acquaintance in casual conversation - something I don't think I had ever seen him do before. As it turned out, the Fleemer clan had been living around those parts for generations. In their heyday, they nearly owned half the county, according to Frank. That was before everything went south.

Around the turn of the century, the American populace was newly mobile and flocking to natural attractions in greater numbers. To take advantage of the healthy retreat craze, an enterprising outsider came to the Fleemers, the wealthiest family in the county by that time, and convinced them to clear some land along the river and build a tourist resort.

It wasn't until they were nearly ready to open that they discovered a serious problem with the location. One of the springs was connected to some kind of geological formation deep underground that made its water output unstable. The river could swell out of its banks at a moment's notice and turn the immediate area into a temporary swamp.

To save the resort, all the buildings would need to be razed and rebuilt or moved to either a higher elevation or to a safer site upriver from the spring. Following a tense meeting, the family agreed to sell other land and holdings to keep the project afloat. But before the relocation could commence, the stranger disappeared with a large portion of the building funds and was never seen again.

The project devolved into infighting and finger-pointing. And before they could figure out what to do with the boondoggle, The Great Depression came along and drove the final nail into the coffin. Personal schisms never healed, and many branches of the Fleemer family tree moved away after that. Frank was one of the last few still hanging on.

"Damned shame," said my father, once the man was done telling his fascinating story.

"You better believe it," Frank nodded, "six hundred private acres backed up to six hundred miles of pristine wilderness. Some of the most beautiful land you've ever seen. I could take you out there today if you really want to see it. Nothing left of the resort now, of course, except a great swimming hole."

I could tell the idea appealed to my father. The day was going to be a scorcher, and this activity sat at the intersection of three things he valued. It was historical, it was natural, and, most importantly, it was free.

Just then, the pastor emerged from a door at the side of the stage and stepped behind the pulpit. The pianist, a middle-aged woman also emerged and settled onto the piano bench. From the worried expression on her face, she had already learned about my stepsisters and their unusual condition. She didn't look happy about it, but she had a job to do.

"Ahem," he said, glancing over his shoulder at the choir entrance, "before we get started this morning, I need to address something, uh...as we gather to worship, I want you all to take heed of you what the good book says about showing hospitality toward outsiders."

The pianist scoffed audibly which caused a murmur to spread through the congregation. Right on cue, the door opened again, and a line of stunned singers started to file in to form the choir. Clearing his throat, the pastor rushed to finish explaining himself before the naked girls did the talking for him.

"We are, uh, honored to welcome all visitors, no matter what their affliction."

His confusing words caused further murmuring. What affliction could he be referring to? I smiled because I knew the answer.

The murmuring grew into full-on voices when a surprising figure made her church debut. The virgin Mary Jane, in the flesh. Seeing the babbling crowd in the sanctuary, she came to an abrupt halt right there in the choir loft doorway. But having stopped mid-stride, Bea bumped into her from behind and caused the naked teen to stumble forward onto the stage. Her cheeks burned a crimson red.

Shrouded in a daze of humiliation, Bea silently marched forward. With her gaze fixed on Mary, she had that same, lost puppy look she had worn while following me around the world's fair.

Little Cindy came next. She stood in the doorway and scanned the crowd until she had located me. When I gave her what I hoped was a comforting nod of encouragement, the blushing teen shuffled forward to stand in line behind her sisters, but keeping her big, round eyes focused on me the whole time.

Each girl was hugging an open hymnal to her chest and had one hand between her legs. But that left plenty of other body parts to look at, including their bare, pert bottoms completely exposed in profile.

I knew right away that it had been Mary's idea to use the hymn book as a covering. She was generally the most self-conscious about her body and had been the most nervous about attending church naked. The other girls were just following her lead.

As usual, that girl never stopped searching for something to hide behind and I had to give her credit for making the most of the limited resources available to her. But it was still my staunch opinion that she was better off giving up her constant scheming for clothes and sharing her blessed endowments with the world. Her body was nothing to be ashamed of; quite the opposite!

Of course, she would never do that willingly. She was much too shy. Luckily, she had her trusty stepbrother around to bring her out of her shell.

Raising his hands and waiving for silence, Pastor Cruft had to yell to be heard.

"I ASK YOU ALL TO OPEN YOUR HEARTS AND ESPECIALLY WELCOME THE MR. FRANK ASKIS FAMILY."

The murmurs died down just enough for him to slip in a quick explanation for the naked girls entering the choir loft behind him. As sopranos, they had been placed in the very front row!

"His daughters are suffering from a terrible condition - the details of which I will, ahem, not go into now. But if you believe God can work miracles for this poor family, let me hear an 'amen'."

A few brave congregants called out "amen" in response, but others continued to grumble loudly. Quickly, before the protest to letting three naked girls into the church service could gather any steam, the pastor gave a signal to his choir director who called out a page number from the hymnal and requested everyone to stand and sing along with the first song.

As I stood, I dared to glance around at some of the other pews. The reactions were exactly as I expected. The children were gawking while the men and older boys had blissful smiles painted on their faces. This was, by far, the best church service they had ever attended. The women were a mix of sour looks and concerned expressions. You could tell which of them truly believed the pastor's explanation about the poor, naked visitors and which were skeptical.

As the song began, I turned my attention back on my stepsisters. Cindy sang along with her gaze still focused on me. Bea was also singing, but with an unfocused expression - kind of staring at nothing.

Mary was the most entertaining to watch. Around the time she started puberty, she had given up singing in the choir. She complained that it felt like everyone was looking at her. Unlike Bea, she didn't like being the center of attention. It had all been in her head, of course. Everyone wasn't really staring at her like she imagined...well, not until today.

Now that she was facing the audience, we could no longer see her back side. But the young men in the choir's baritone section were straining from the third row get a better look at her gorgeous rear.

When the song ended, the audience was allowed to take their seats. But the choir had to remain standing to sing the next one. Mary sang along, reluctantly, but never stopped squirming where she stood. While the hymn book hid her ample chest, there was still plenty to see from my perspective.

Below the book, her torso tapered inward to its narrowest point. Adorning the smooth expanse of her flat tummy was her indented belly button. I was pretty sure her mother would consider it an egregious scandal to expose one’s bellybutton in church like that. But with so much else of her body showing, people being able to see her belly was the least of Mary's worries right now.

Further down, her torso broadened again to make room for her perfectly proportioned hips. Her creator had truly blessed her with an ideal shape. Her right hand remained strategically placed between her legs - the last guardian between her most private place and the entire congregation.

Below her hand, the gap between her thighs teased the spectacular view that she was being extra careful to keep hidden. But she had no way to keep her long, shapely legs, her sculpted calves, or her slender, bare feet from view.

After the second song, the director called out another hymn and invited us to join in again. Finding the right page, I quickly returned to gazing at the spectacular sight on the stage. Mary's constant squirming unintentionally drew more attention to herself over the other girls. She really ought to stop fretting over her nudity and accept it. At least then she wouldn't look so uncomfortable.

I was having so much fun staring at my naked stepsisters that I completely forgot about Patricia. As an alto, she was easy to locate in the second row. Singing in the choir at church was usually one of her favorite activities. But today, she looked less than enthused. The long night of vigorous lovemaking and little sleep wasn't helping. But more than anything, she was just worried about her girls. As the fourth song number was called out, she turned to the right page and began to sing, but her sunken eyes kept darting away from her open hymnal to check on her naked daughters.

That's when it hit me...the girls weren't following along in their hymnals! They were just using them as coverings and singing the songs from memory. When the realization landed on my face and my mouth fell open, Mary noticed and flinched.

Making eye contact, I raised my left hand above the edge of the pew in front of me where she could easily see it. When she spotted my hand - poised for a snap with my thumb and middle finger pressed tightly together - her eyes bulged and her singing faltered.

Her squirming increased and, closing her eyes briefly, she could not hide the look of anguish on her face. She was already living her worst nightmare - standing on stage at church completely naked with everyone staring at her. And now I was essentially asking her to give up the little bits of modesty she had managed to cobble together and share every remaining detail of her body's secrets with this quaint, country congregation.

Opening her eyes again, she trained them on me. I had a caring expression on my face; gentle, but steadfast. I was doing this for her own good. The silent snap that followed sent a clear message: enough hiding. With only a slight hesitation, she slowly lowered the hymnal off her ample chest.

Her other hand took a little more convincing. But with a deep breath, she eventually got it to move away from her privates and join her other hand grasping the large book behind her back. Her naked exposure complete, she bowed her head in shame and resumed singing softly.

I didn't think Bea had been paying very close attention to what was happening. But to my surprise, and delight, she also responded to my snap by moving her hymnal behind her back. Following the lead of her big sisters, even Cindy complied! The angelic trio of naked teens' most intimate exposure was complete. In addition to baring their lovely breasts, their unique abdominal adornments were now on full display.

It was as if each pale canvas was telling a different, symbolic tale with a common theme. Mary's heart, its lower point perched just above her virginal, shaved mound, advertised that there was more than one way for a girl to show love. Bea's arrow, straight and narrow, was pointing the way to her Heaven's door. And Cindy... Well, Cindy was just inviting you to lick it like a lollypop!

The congregation's voice - raised as one in song - reached a crescendo just in time to drown out the surprised outbursts among some members of the audience. If anything could inspire a person to make a joyful noise, it was my naked stepsisters. Even though Bea had taken care of me that very morning, I found myself having to adjust the front of my slacks to make the bulge of arousal less noticeable.

When the song ended, the congregation was allowed to sit. But the choir remained standing while ushers came forward for the offertory. After the pastor said a brief prayer of thanks, the choir began to sing again while the collection plates were passed around.

After passing the plate to the other Frank behind us, my attention snapped right back to studying the three budding females on the stage. This was my first true chance to compare them all side-by-side. The family resemblance was striking in that they were all drop-dead gorgeous. But there were also some notable differences. In addition to being the most physically developed, Mary's skin now sported an all-over tan - the result of being mostly naked for the past five days.

Bea had always had the lightest hair and fairest complexion of the three. Even after a full day without clothes, her body was still more pale than her sisters. She was nearly as tall as Mary, but only because of her long, skinny legs and slender, almost stretched frame which made her ample breasts look even larger than they really were.

Cindy, having just started her nude vacation earlier that morning, hadn't gotten enough sun yet to make any difference. Her arms and legs still sported subtle tan lines from her modest swimsuit while the rest of her tender body was nearly as pale as Bea. She looked more like a younger version of Mary, though, with the same general outline and proportional breasts. There was something about her cute little nipples and round, perfectly shaded areolas that I found extremely difficult to tear my eyes away from.

She was the only one wearing shoes which made it more difficult to judge her true height. Without them, she would have probably been a head shorter than her sisters. But with them, she held her own.

She was clearly embarrassed to be standing there with her naked body on full display and her arms clasped behind her back. But during the offertory prayer of thanksgiving, when everyone was supposed to have their heads bowed, I caught her glance over at Mary and Bea. And the corners of her mouth tipped up into a beautiful, fleeting smile before she bowed her head again. Despite losing all her clothes and suffering such a humiliating, nude circumstance, she could still be thankful for one thing. At least she had found a way to be together with her sisters once again.

Frankie having a good time, his sisters so miserable! A really good church service indeed. I enjoy how at every turn Frankie forces exhibition from the girls, even in church. Your descriptions of their discomfort at being displayed are great!

Frankie's finger snap command did the trick, forcing Mary's and the others' complete and full display - and demonstrates his control over them!

Nice! I was expecting them to just open the hymnals to be in compliance, and be able to write it off as "oh wait I forgot this part" but to put the books behind their backs.. they are really getting with the program.