Tabatha's Torment
Posted: Tue Feb 20, 2024 8:51 pm
The following is applicable to all chapters of “Tabatha's Torment:”
© February 2024 by Blondie.
This is a work of fiction and is pure fantasy. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
For ages 18 and older only.
Author's Note: I started writing this with the intention of participating in the contest. Realistically, it is highly unlikely that I will find the time to conclude this story by the deadline. To further complicate things, there is a decent chance that this could turn into an extended story with several chapters. I'm not sure about that yet—I have a vague plan, and I tend to make things up as I go along—but if that is the case, it would likely be months before coming to conclusion.
In any case, in the likely event that I don't finish this in time, I will edit out the "HNY24" after the 29th.
Chapter 1: The Locker Room
Katy Remington eyed the freshman girl who was changing out of her P.E. clothes in the Roosevelt High School locker room. She took notice that the girl seemed ill at ease while doing so. Katy watched closely as the girl kept her back turned while standing unusually close to her locker while she pulled the regulation Roosevelt tee shirt off over her head. Her back, which was bare but for a white bra strap, was promptly covered by a long-sleeved green blouse that she had at the ready. The transition from being adorned in a tee shirt to a long-sleeved blouse was remarkably swift.
At the moment, Katy was wearing nothing but her black bra and a pair of matching panties. She seemed considerably more comfortable in her own skin than the girl she was watching. Katy nudged her friend, who was changing her clothes right next to her. “Check this out, Chloe,” said Katy while pointing at the girl at the other end of the row of lockers. Her friend followed Katy’s gaze and observed a girl who was hastily slipping out of her P.E. shorts. Chloe’s first observation was that the girl was wearing a pair of black tights underneath the shorts. Chloe found that unusual, being that it was a warm, early September day.
The two girls continued to regard the girl as she hurriedly slipped into a pair of jeans, followed by a pair of shoes. She then grabbed her backpack, and without delay she disappeared behind the lockers on her way out the door.
Chloe looked back at her friend. They made eye contact and smiled at each other. They were both thinking the same thing. “We’re going to have some fun with that girl,” said Katy.
“Indeed,” answered her friend.
* * * * *
Tabatha Cooper had always been self-conscious about her body. Her earliest memory of her profound sense of modesty was way back when she was six years old. She was in the play yard at her school, and a strong gust of wind blew her skirt straight up in the air, exposing her light blue cotton panties. Much to her embarrassment, it was witnessed by two boys from her first-grade class. The two boys got a good laugh out of it and teased her mercilessly. Tabatha was very impressionable, and it bothered her to no end. She never completely overcame that experience. Indeed, eight years later, she still had not worn a skirt to school since that fateful day, extreme as that may seem.
It was something of a paradox, really, because Tabatha had no real reason to feel self-conscious about her body. Now at the age of fourteen, her body had developed as one would expect for a young teenager. Though slightly small in stature, she had a slim, curvaceous physique. Her breasts, while on the smaller side, were nicely formed—nothing to be embarrassed about. Her face wasn’t strikingly beautiful, but it was pleasant , and with a smile she could even be considered pretty. If only she hadn’t insisted on hiding beneath loose-fitting clothes that covered everything but her face and hands, she might have turned more than a few heads of the boys at Roosevelt High.
Tabatha dreaded the thought of starting high school. What haunted her most was the prospect of changing clothes for P.E. At her middle school, the class had been an elective—and naturally, she’d avoided it every year. But she knew it was mandatory now, and as the first day crept closer, her anxiety climbed higher and higher. She even toyed with the idea of asking her mother for a medical deferral, but quickly dismissed it; her mother would never dream of falsifying a document.
To compound her anxiety, she had heard rumors that bullying was rampant at Roosevelt High, and that the teachers tended to look the other way. Tabatha shuddered as she contemplated her future in high school.
Her first two days at school did nothing to alleviate her fears. On her first day in third period P.E., they handed out the compulsory tee shirt and shorts at the end of the class. Tabatha was appalled at how short the shorts were. She made a mental note to wear her tights to school, lest she have to expose a considerable amount of her bare legs.
As she expected, changing out of her clothes for P.E. the next day was a very unpleasant experience. She did the deed as quickly as possible while keeping her head down.
It was worse when she came back after the activities and had to change back into her clothes. Much to her consternation, all the girls stripped down in preparation for taking a shower. She hadn’t even considered that this would occur, and she was horrified. She couldn’t imagine—not in her wildest dreams, not even in her wildest nightmares—anyone seeing her naked. So while dozens of girls cavorted naked around her, Tabatha fiddled around with her shoelaces, then acted like she was looking for something in her locker—anything she could do to keep from undressing while naked girls were coming and going around her.
When it appeared all the girls were back at their lockers and seemingly preoccupied, Tabatha changed into her clothes with nervous efficiency. She thought she was going about her business unnoticed until she took a furtive glance to her right and had the strong sense that two girls from one of the upper classes were staring at her from the other end of the row of lockers. Feeling very uncomfortable, Tabatha quickened her pace even more. She feverishly pulled on her jeans, slipped on her shoes, grabbed her backpack and fled the locker room. Out in the hallway, she stopped, squeezed her eyes shut, and took a deep breath. She was already dreading the next day’s P.E.
* * * * *
Katy Remington was a bully. Her penchant for bullying dated back to her time in elementary school, when she first discovered how easily she could dominate weaker classmates—and how much she enjoyed it. There was no denying her sadistic streak—one she put on display often at the expense of humiliated victims. Nothing thrilled her more than to have a cowering victim at her beck and call.
Katy was now in her third year at Roosevelt High School. Two years earlier, like most incoming students, she had already heard of the school’s reputation for bullying—a reputation that played right into her hands. During her freshman year, she listened with relish to stories of unfortunate students who had some, or even all of their clothes forcibly removed by mischief-making students.
Her favorite tales were of a girl named Felicity, who years earlier had ruled the school with a reign of terror, leaving many a humiliated victim in her wake. In many circles—including Katy’s—Felicity was nothing short of a legend. Katy aspired to be just like her. She never quite matched Felicity’s prowess in doling out humiliation—truth be told, no one could—but she earned her own reputation as someone to be feared.
During her first two years, Katy—with the help of a few “associates”—had her fun tyrannizing a handful of victims. They were all boys—weaker boys, whom she knew she could dominate without consequence. But over the summer she decided it was time to branch out, so she set herself a new goal—finding a female target to have her fun with. So imagine her glee when, on just the second day of school, she eyeballed Tabatha Cooper self-consciously changing clothes in the locker room.
* * * * *
It was the third day of school, and Tabatha Cooper had just suffered through her third period P.E. class. As she did the day before, she was sitting on the bench, fidgeting around at her locker while the other girls were showering.
“Aren’t you going to shower?” came a voice from above. Startled, Tabatha's whole body flinched. She looked up, and standing over her was a tall, athletically built student. Tabatha recognized her as one of the girls she thought was staring at her the day before. At the moment she looked quite imposing to Tabatha, either because of or in spite of the fact that the girl was naked—Tabatha wasn’t sure.
“I... I... um,” stammered Tabatha. “I was just looking for something,” she said as she buried her head in her locker. She dearly wished the girl would just disappear. Instead, the girl extended her hand.
“My name’s Katy,” she said.
“Ta... Tabatha,” she stammered, avoiding eye contact as she shook the girl’s hand. It felt strange, shaking hands with someone so casually naked while she herself was fully clothed. Tabatha wished she had even a fraction of that confidence.
Katy chuckled. “What a cute name.” She looked down at Tabatha’s legs. “Why are you wearing those tights?” asked Katy. “It’s pretty warm outside.”
Tabatha was not at all enjoying the line of questioning. “I... please, I... I just like them.”
Just then another girl joined Katy. She was also naked but for a towel draped over one shoulder. “Hi, I'm Chloe,” she said while extending her hand out to Tabatha in the same fashion as did Katy. Tabatha’s state of discomfiture continued to rise. She shook the girl’s hand, again without looking up. She refrained from saying her name.
“This is Tabatha,” said Katy. “Isn’t that a cute name?”
“Very,” smiled Chloe.
"I was just asking Tabatha about the tights,” said Katy.
“Yeah, what’s up with the tights? It’s not cold outside,” remarked Chloe.
“She says she just likes them,” responded Katy. It was silent for a moment, then Katy continued. “I don’t really like them. Do you like them, Chloe?”
“Not really,” said Chloe. “I wonder why she wants to cover up her legs.”
“I don’t know,” replied Katy. “Let’s ask her. Tabatha, why do you want to cover up your legs?”
“Please, I just... I like how they look.”
Chloe looked at Katy and said, “She just likes how they look.”
“Apparently,” said Katy. “But we’ve both already said that we don’t like how they look. That does create a problem.” She looked at Tabatha. “Tabatha, you say you like how your tights look. But Chloe and I don’t like how they look. What do you think we should do about that?”
Tabatha was now fully aware that she was on the receiving end of a bullying session that Roosevelt was renowned for. Her breathing had quickened considerably. She was desperate to find a way out of her predicament. But her next words were probably not the ideal approach to remedy her situation. She took a quick glance at her two tormentors before looking back down. “Please, can you just leave me alone and go get dressed?”
Katy looked at Chloe and said, “She wants us to get dressed.”
“I wonder why? Does she not think we look good naked?” asked Chloe.
Katy moved a bit closer and more in front of the harried Tabatha. If Tabatha were to turn her head to the left, her nose would come menacingly close to Katy’s neatly trimmed bush. “Do you think I don’t look good naked, Tabatha?”
Tabatha scooted a few inches away from what for her was a very offensive intrusion. “No... I mean yes... I mean... I just want you to leave me alone.” She felt herself blushing.
“Oh, I think she’s embarrassed,” said Chloe.
“Are you embarrassed, Tabatha?” asked Katy. “Is it us? The fact that we’re naked, right here beside you?” Tabatha blushed brighter. “I think it does. In fact, I think just hearing the word naked embarrasses you. Doesn’t it, Tabatha?”
Indeed, Tabatha blushed a darker shade of red. “Please, can you just... just leave me alone?” she implored.
“Okay,” said Katy. “We’ll leave you alone, but not until you do two things for us. First, I’d like you to use the word ‘naked’ in a sentence. Do you think you can do that?”
“Please, why... why do I have... why do you want me to do that?”
Instead of answering her right away, Katy sat down on the bench beside Tabatha, close enough that their thighs touched. Chloe followed suit, settling in on the other side until Tabatha found herself wedged between two warm, naked bodies. Unnerved, Tabatha made a sudden attempt to rise, but two firm hands pressed her shoulders down.
“Just relax, sweetie,” said Katy. The softness of the words only deepened Tabatha’s terror.
© February 2024 by Blondie.
This is a work of fiction and is pure fantasy. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
For ages 18 and older only.
Author's Note: I started writing this with the intention of participating in the contest. Realistically, it is highly unlikely that I will find the time to conclude this story by the deadline. To further complicate things, there is a decent chance that this could turn into an extended story with several chapters. I'm not sure about that yet—I have a vague plan, and I tend to make things up as I go along—but if that is the case, it would likely be months before coming to conclusion.
In any case, in the likely event that I don't finish this in time, I will edit out the "HNY24" after the 29th.
Chapter 1: The Locker Room
Katy Remington eyed the freshman girl who was changing out of her P.E. clothes in the Roosevelt High School locker room. She took notice that the girl seemed ill at ease while doing so. Katy watched closely as the girl kept her back turned while standing unusually close to her locker while she pulled the regulation Roosevelt tee shirt off over her head. Her back, which was bare but for a white bra strap, was promptly covered by a long-sleeved green blouse that she had at the ready. The transition from being adorned in a tee shirt to a long-sleeved blouse was remarkably swift.
At the moment, Katy was wearing nothing but her black bra and a pair of matching panties. She seemed considerably more comfortable in her own skin than the girl she was watching. Katy nudged her friend, who was changing her clothes right next to her. “Check this out, Chloe,” said Katy while pointing at the girl at the other end of the row of lockers. Her friend followed Katy’s gaze and observed a girl who was hastily slipping out of her P.E. shorts. Chloe’s first observation was that the girl was wearing a pair of black tights underneath the shorts. Chloe found that unusual, being that it was a warm, early September day.
The two girls continued to regard the girl as she hurriedly slipped into a pair of jeans, followed by a pair of shoes. She then grabbed her backpack, and without delay she disappeared behind the lockers on her way out the door.
Chloe looked back at her friend. They made eye contact and smiled at each other. They were both thinking the same thing. “We’re going to have some fun with that girl,” said Katy.
“Indeed,” answered her friend.
* * * * *
Tabatha Cooper had always been self-conscious about her body. Her earliest memory of her profound sense of modesty was way back when she was six years old. She was in the play yard at her school, and a strong gust of wind blew her skirt straight up in the air, exposing her light blue cotton panties. Much to her embarrassment, it was witnessed by two boys from her first-grade class. The two boys got a good laugh out of it and teased her mercilessly. Tabatha was very impressionable, and it bothered her to no end. She never completely overcame that experience. Indeed, eight years later, she still had not worn a skirt to school since that fateful day, extreme as that may seem.
It was something of a paradox, really, because Tabatha had no real reason to feel self-conscious about her body. Now at the age of fourteen, her body had developed as one would expect for a young teenager. Though slightly small in stature, she had a slim, curvaceous physique. Her breasts, while on the smaller side, were nicely formed—nothing to be embarrassed about. Her face wasn’t strikingly beautiful, but it was pleasant , and with a smile she could even be considered pretty. If only she hadn’t insisted on hiding beneath loose-fitting clothes that covered everything but her face and hands, she might have turned more than a few heads of the boys at Roosevelt High.
Tabatha dreaded the thought of starting high school. What haunted her most was the prospect of changing clothes for P.E. At her middle school, the class had been an elective—and naturally, she’d avoided it every year. But she knew it was mandatory now, and as the first day crept closer, her anxiety climbed higher and higher. She even toyed with the idea of asking her mother for a medical deferral, but quickly dismissed it; her mother would never dream of falsifying a document.
To compound her anxiety, she had heard rumors that bullying was rampant at Roosevelt High, and that the teachers tended to look the other way. Tabatha shuddered as she contemplated her future in high school.
Her first two days at school did nothing to alleviate her fears. On her first day in third period P.E., they handed out the compulsory tee shirt and shorts at the end of the class. Tabatha was appalled at how short the shorts were. She made a mental note to wear her tights to school, lest she have to expose a considerable amount of her bare legs.
As she expected, changing out of her clothes for P.E. the next day was a very unpleasant experience. She did the deed as quickly as possible while keeping her head down.
It was worse when she came back after the activities and had to change back into her clothes. Much to her consternation, all the girls stripped down in preparation for taking a shower. She hadn’t even considered that this would occur, and she was horrified. She couldn’t imagine—not in her wildest dreams, not even in her wildest nightmares—anyone seeing her naked. So while dozens of girls cavorted naked around her, Tabatha fiddled around with her shoelaces, then acted like she was looking for something in her locker—anything she could do to keep from undressing while naked girls were coming and going around her.
When it appeared all the girls were back at their lockers and seemingly preoccupied, Tabatha changed into her clothes with nervous efficiency. She thought she was going about her business unnoticed until she took a furtive glance to her right and had the strong sense that two girls from one of the upper classes were staring at her from the other end of the row of lockers. Feeling very uncomfortable, Tabatha quickened her pace even more. She feverishly pulled on her jeans, slipped on her shoes, grabbed her backpack and fled the locker room. Out in the hallway, she stopped, squeezed her eyes shut, and took a deep breath. She was already dreading the next day’s P.E.
* * * * *
Katy Remington was a bully. Her penchant for bullying dated back to her time in elementary school, when she first discovered how easily she could dominate weaker classmates—and how much she enjoyed it. There was no denying her sadistic streak—one she put on display often at the expense of humiliated victims. Nothing thrilled her more than to have a cowering victim at her beck and call.
Katy was now in her third year at Roosevelt High School. Two years earlier, like most incoming students, she had already heard of the school’s reputation for bullying—a reputation that played right into her hands. During her freshman year, she listened with relish to stories of unfortunate students who had some, or even all of their clothes forcibly removed by mischief-making students.
Her favorite tales were of a girl named Felicity, who years earlier had ruled the school with a reign of terror, leaving many a humiliated victim in her wake. In many circles—including Katy’s—Felicity was nothing short of a legend. Katy aspired to be just like her. She never quite matched Felicity’s prowess in doling out humiliation—truth be told, no one could—but she earned her own reputation as someone to be feared.
During her first two years, Katy—with the help of a few “associates”—had her fun tyrannizing a handful of victims. They were all boys—weaker boys, whom she knew she could dominate without consequence. But over the summer she decided it was time to branch out, so she set herself a new goal—finding a female target to have her fun with. So imagine her glee when, on just the second day of school, she eyeballed Tabatha Cooper self-consciously changing clothes in the locker room.
* * * * *
It was the third day of school, and Tabatha Cooper had just suffered through her third period P.E. class. As she did the day before, she was sitting on the bench, fidgeting around at her locker while the other girls were showering.
“Aren’t you going to shower?” came a voice from above. Startled, Tabatha's whole body flinched. She looked up, and standing over her was a tall, athletically built student. Tabatha recognized her as one of the girls she thought was staring at her the day before. At the moment she looked quite imposing to Tabatha, either because of or in spite of the fact that the girl was naked—Tabatha wasn’t sure.
“I... I... um,” stammered Tabatha. “I was just looking for something,” she said as she buried her head in her locker. She dearly wished the girl would just disappear. Instead, the girl extended her hand.
“My name’s Katy,” she said.
“Ta... Tabatha,” she stammered, avoiding eye contact as she shook the girl’s hand. It felt strange, shaking hands with someone so casually naked while she herself was fully clothed. Tabatha wished she had even a fraction of that confidence.
Katy chuckled. “What a cute name.” She looked down at Tabatha’s legs. “Why are you wearing those tights?” asked Katy. “It’s pretty warm outside.”
Tabatha was not at all enjoying the line of questioning. “I... please, I... I just like them.”
Just then another girl joined Katy. She was also naked but for a towel draped over one shoulder. “Hi, I'm Chloe,” she said while extending her hand out to Tabatha in the same fashion as did Katy. Tabatha’s state of discomfiture continued to rise. She shook the girl’s hand, again without looking up. She refrained from saying her name.
“This is Tabatha,” said Katy. “Isn’t that a cute name?”
“Very,” smiled Chloe.
"I was just asking Tabatha about the tights,” said Katy.
“Yeah, what’s up with the tights? It’s not cold outside,” remarked Chloe.
“She says she just likes them,” responded Katy. It was silent for a moment, then Katy continued. “I don’t really like them. Do you like them, Chloe?”
“Not really,” said Chloe. “I wonder why she wants to cover up her legs.”
“I don’t know,” replied Katy. “Let’s ask her. Tabatha, why do you want to cover up your legs?”
“Please, I just... I like how they look.”
Chloe looked at Katy and said, “She just likes how they look.”
“Apparently,” said Katy. “But we’ve both already said that we don’t like how they look. That does create a problem.” She looked at Tabatha. “Tabatha, you say you like how your tights look. But Chloe and I don’t like how they look. What do you think we should do about that?”
Tabatha was now fully aware that she was on the receiving end of a bullying session that Roosevelt was renowned for. Her breathing had quickened considerably. She was desperate to find a way out of her predicament. But her next words were probably not the ideal approach to remedy her situation. She took a quick glance at her two tormentors before looking back down. “Please, can you just leave me alone and go get dressed?”
Katy looked at Chloe and said, “She wants us to get dressed.”
“I wonder why? Does she not think we look good naked?” asked Chloe.
Katy moved a bit closer and more in front of the harried Tabatha. If Tabatha were to turn her head to the left, her nose would come menacingly close to Katy’s neatly trimmed bush. “Do you think I don’t look good naked, Tabatha?”
Tabatha scooted a few inches away from what for her was a very offensive intrusion. “No... I mean yes... I mean... I just want you to leave me alone.” She felt herself blushing.
“Oh, I think she’s embarrassed,” said Chloe.
“Are you embarrassed, Tabatha?” asked Katy. “Is it us? The fact that we’re naked, right here beside you?” Tabatha blushed brighter. “I think it does. In fact, I think just hearing the word naked embarrasses you. Doesn’t it, Tabatha?”
Indeed, Tabatha blushed a darker shade of red. “Please, can you just... just leave me alone?” she implored.
“Okay,” said Katy. “We’ll leave you alone, but not until you do two things for us. First, I’d like you to use the word ‘naked’ in a sentence. Do you think you can do that?”
“Please, why... why do I have... why do you want me to do that?”
Instead of answering her right away, Katy sat down on the bench beside Tabatha, close enough that their thighs touched. Chloe followed suit, settling in on the other side until Tabatha found herself wedged between two warm, naked bodies. Unnerved, Tabatha made a sudden attempt to rise, but two firm hands pressed her shoulders down.
“Just relax, sweetie,” said Katy. The softness of the words only deepened Tabatha’s terror.
), SDS, for motivating me. Now I'll have another unfinished (or I prefer "ongoing") story to work on.