Gymnogyny 101

[Gymnogynist]

GYMNOGYNY 101

1. Chapter One (this post)
2. Chapter Two (posted March 14, 2026)

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While this first chapter does include public and semi-public female nudity, it's not technically ENF. Don't be worried, though; the second and subsequent chapters will include reluctant female nudity with plenty of embarrassment.

CHAPTER ONE

My name is John William Sanders, and I'm a gymnogynist, which is a fancy word for someone who believes in female nudism. Gymnogyny differs from traditional nudism in several respects, the most obvious being that while traditional nudism encourages both men and women to go unclothed in public and in private, in gymnogyny it is only women who are naked; men remain fully clothed.

Another difference is that while traditional nudism claims (falsely, in my opinion) that nudity is not intrinsically sexual, a gymnogynist recognizes that female nudity in the company of men is always inherently sexual. The female body exists to please men both physically and visually.

Gymnogynists believe that all women should be naked all the time, or at least as much as is practically possible. If clothing must be worn (for example, for protection), it should be the absolute minimum possible, obscuring the least amount of the body, and never with the purpose of hiding any part of the female body from the male gaze.

When I married my wife Irena, we agreed that our family would operate according to the principles of gymnogyny. She is a freelance software developer who works from home, so she is able to go naked almost 24/7. Unfortunately, there aren't any schools in the area that allow their female students to attend classes naked, so our daughters–13-year-old twins named Darcey and Kelsey–are required to wear clothing during the time they are at school. But we do our best to keep them naked as much as possible outside of school. Certainly when they are in our house or in the backyard they are not allowed to wear any clothes at all.

All of my neighbors have gotten used to seeing the female members of my family au naturel in our backyard and for the most part don't seem to mind, although sadly none of them seem willing to adopt gymnogyny as a rule in their own households. But the town at large is often not even that enlightened.

When my wife began practicing full-time gymnogyny, I looked up the laws for indecent exposure and public lewdness in my state. It ended up being the case that the laws in my state were relatively liberal compared to some others. They only proscribed public exposure of the genitals, not the nipples or the buttocks, so as long as my wife and daughters wear a G-string in public, then as much as the members of our town might complain (and complain they did, especially in the beginning) there isn't much they can do about it. Of course, I believe it's an outrage that they are required to wear even that much, as I believe the right (and, indeed, the obligation) of women to be naked in public should be as fundamental and inalienable as freedom of speech or of religion.

But in order for my family's women to enter most businesses or even public buildings, even the concession of a G-string is not enough. They always insist on at the very least shorts or skirts, and often shirts and/or shoes as well. (Some are satisfied with a string bikini top or a bra instead of a full shirt.) So the women of my family wearing clothes is unfortunately not exactly a rare occurrence, even on top of the time my daughters spend in school. But I do my best to ensure that the clothing my women do wear is always as minimal and as revealing as possible.

Irena and I married fifteen years ago, when she was 23 and I was 36, and our family have been practicing gymnogynists ever since, so all of this has settled into a routine. Irena and the girls all know what articles of clothing they need to bring with them to participate in which activities. We drive forty-five minutes each way to worship in a gymnogynist church on Sundays, the church Irena and I were married in.

But sometimes the careful equilibrium we've achieved gets disturbed. Which is how I ended up in the principal's office of my girl's school.

“Kelsey lifted her skirt and, as she is apparently not wearing any underpants beneath it, exposed her genitals to a male student,” Mrs. Henderson, the principal of Abigail Williams Middle School, informed me. She was a tall, stern woman, dressed in a high-collared long-sleeved blouse and an ankle-length skirt. All in all, an outfit that left far too much to the imagination.

“Did he complain?” He'd have been crazy to do so, but I supposed it wasn't impossible.

“I'm afraid that's not the point, Mr. Sanders,” the principal answered in her no-nonsense manner.

"And the point is?" I asked disingenuously. I knew what she was going to say, of course, but I wasn't going to concede one inch of ground that I didn't need to.

"That your daughter's outfit and behavior are indecent and unacceptable."

“I'm completely familiar with this school’s dress code, Mrs. Henderson,” I reminded her (after all, this was not the first time we had had a version of this conversation in this office), “and there is nothing in it about a girl being required to wear underpants underneath her skirt. All it says is that the skirt must be at or below her fingertips. Kelsey?”

Kelsey stood up with her arms at her sides, her fingertips pointing down at the floor. The hem of her skirt was exactly even with the tip of her middle finger.

“Even if her outfit–what there is of it–is not in technical violation of the dress code, the fact remains that intentionally lifting her skirt to expose her genitals remains a violation of school policy. As this is not her first offense of this type, and she has repeatedly been informed that such behavior is not acceptable, I am going to have to suspend her from school for the next two days.”

I had to bite down on my anger. It was bad enough that they forced my daughters to remain clothed for the entire school day. When one of my girls quite properly let a boy see that which should have already been on display for not only him, but also every other male student, teacher, or staff member at the school, she was treated as if she had done something wrong. In a perfect world, this uptight bitch would be standing in front of me completely naked with her legs spread wide for me to better see her cunt–and every female student, teacher, or staff in the school would be just as naked, to be seen and enjoyed by the boys and men.

But I knew this wasn't going to be a battle that I was going to win. “Very well, Mrs. Henderson. Have a nice day,” I said through gritted teeth, as I stood up. “Kelsey, let's go.”

My daughter followed me as we left the principal's office. She was uncharacteristically silent as we made our way through the halls of the school, out into the parking lot, and to the car.

Once we were seated in the car, she pulled her shirt over her head, revealing her smallish but pert tits. “Dad,” she asked meekly as she unzipped her skirt and wiggled out of it, “are you mad at me?”

I sighed. “No, sweetheart,” I reassured her. “You did the right thing letting that boy see your cunt. But you need to be more careful. You can't keep on getting caught. You know that they'll grasp onto the smallest excuse to come down on us if they can. You can't give them anything.”

“I know, Dad,” she said, her voice quiet. “I'm sorry.”

“It's not your fault,” I told her, reaching over and squeezing her now bare thigh. “Come on, let's get some ice cream.”

She lit up immediately. “Really?”

“Really,” I told her, and turned onto the street towards our favorite ice cream parlor. They have outdoor tables and an exterior window you can order from, which means the girls don't need to wear more than their G-strings to get ice cream from there.

Kelsey pulled a pink G-string out of the glove box and slipped it on before exiting the car, and then she and I made our way to the window to order. It was early afternoon and all the kids were still in school, so there wasn't any line.

The employee behind the window was Annie, the daughter of a friend of mine. She's 20 years old and a junior at the local commuter college. Other than dressing too conservatively (which is to say, wearing any clothes at all) she was a very good girl. She had a very attractive body, too, from what I could tell. It really was a shame that it was so covered in clothing. “Hi, Mr. Sanders, Kelsey,” she greeted us.

“Good afternoon, Annie,” I replied. “Two scoops of chocolate ripple, please.” I turned to my daughter. “Kelsey?”

“Two scoops of birthday cake with a chocolate dip and extra rainbow sprinkles, please,” Kelsey ordered.

After Annie gave us our cones and I paid her, Kelsey and I made our way to one of the benches. Kelsey sat down, her knees spread far apart by habit even though her pink G-string blocked the view of her cunt. I smiled, a proud father, as I watched her lick her cone.

My cell phone rang. I checked the number and was surprised to see it was my niece. I wasn't as close as I would have liked with my brother's family as his wife didn't approve of gymnogyny.

“Hello?” I answered. “Hannah?”

“Uncle John!” my niece replied, distraught. “It's Mom and Dad. There's been an accident.”

END OF CHAPTER ONE

Go to Chapter Two

[D74]

I like the way this story is starting out can’t wait to see chapter 2

[Lisa_The_Brave_12]

Good writing and an interesting premise. Can't wait to see where this is going. Would love to see them gradually change the town's attitude towards female nudity and sexual display. Also, my guess is that the niece is in for a wild ride!

[student]

John William Sanders and his niece--raised by an anti-gymnogyny mother. We readers don't know what sort of accident sister-in-law and brother have had. If sister-in-law has survived but needs home care, the ENF possibilities are there. Or perhaps their house has burned down and they're homeless--and possibly invalid due to smoke inhalation (so that there are no unsightly burns, but short of breath).

The next chapter is going to be interesting.

[Skylar21]

Nice beginning. Looking forward to what comes next. Hoping for plenty of reluctant CMNF! Lots of potential in this story.

[Somebody]

An excellent setup for what looks like a classic premise. Very nice. I like that they have a church to go to.

[SixPathsKeyblader]

Nice setup. Gymnogyny sounds very similar to feminudism from SuperEvil's "The New Rules". Hopefully this story will be more story/narrative driven.

[Gymnogynist]

Nice setup. Gymnogyny sounds very similar to feminudism from SuperEvil's "The New Rules". Hopefully this story will be more story/narrative driven.

There's definitely definitely some inspiration there! (Another way of looking at it might be taking "Girls Don't Need Modesty" to its logical extreme and applying it equally to all women regardless of age.) The main differences in my mind are, first, that while feminudism presents itself as a progressive ideology (even though we know from "The Right Smartwatch" that it really isn't), gymnogyny is more self-consciously socially conservative and misogynistic. This means it's more consistent and coherent and requires less doublethink on the part of the characters, which hopefully allows for a greater realism. (The main place you really need to suspend disbelief is the idea that men believing in gymnogyny could persuade female partners not raised in the philosophy to commit to it in any meaningful number.) It also will allow me to go into greater deeper detail about the specifics of the gymnogynist philosophy and how it drives the characters' lives.

The second main difference is that in "The New Rules" feminudism is a relatively new philosophy that is spreading through a community, and you do need to suspend disbelief a little at the rate that it manages to catch on even in families that aren't mind-controlled by the smartwatch. In my story, gymnogyny is already an established movement and so we have second-generation gymnogynists like the twins in this story, who live in a household with very settled and stable rules, as we will see. We also have a large network of gymnogynists working together in the church, and so in those spaces we don't need to be surprised that no one's shocked and offended by so much nudity or by the blatant double standard in how the genders are treated. And outside that community people will be shocked and offended in a way much closer to how we would expect them to be in the real world (which helps to underscore the embarrassment aspect). So we're left with a fairly stark divide between those who accept gymnogyny and those who reject it, and there will be very few characters indeed who will move from one camp to the other, and any who do will only do so with great reluctance (and not a little overt coercion in at least one case).

I hope none of the above reads as a criticism of SuperEvil. I very much enjoyed "The Right Smartwatch" and "The New Rules" and this story definitely does owe a debt to them. I know I'm not the only reader who has been perfectly happy to suspend disbelief where necessary in order to see where SuperEvil takes us next! And, indeed, insidiously clever patriarchs hijacking progressive language in order to obscure the fact that they really just want to get girls naked (and possibly more, as such stories often also include some degree of free use) and to get those girls (and/or, in the case of underaged girls, their parents) to go along with it is actually one of my very favorite tropes in ENF stories. I just wanted to articulate those places where I see myself doing something slightly different in this story.

[gymnarchist]

Hello fellow Gymn*ist! Loving this idea, especially the opportunities for unreluctant, eager, CMNF and CFNF! Perhaps Mom could get more involved with the school, it makes sense that the principal takes a dislike to Dad even though he's just trying to do the best for the girls?

The church framing offers the opportunity for a great scenario later on: church camp! A bus full of eager nude young women, off to spend time reinforcing their faith and their resilience against the denials of the outer world, to be treated to motivational speakers ("They say that Nancy Jones has never worn clothes! Not even shoes or a hat! Her parents have had to pay private tutors, and she had to travel here by motorcoach!") and shown the latest in clothing-simulating body paint and technology - the marvellous Pinnacle by Byscorp is an ideal example! Imagine Hannah bundled off to camp with the desperately keen Kelsey and Darcey, eager to push her boundaries and not have her embarrass them with her embarrassment ...

Imagine the religious debates. "Are shoes sinful?" (duh, yes, though safety boots are permitted if a woman must do work that requires them) "Is a hat sinful?" (Obviously Nancy would say yes, though Samantha likes to wear only a hat when she goes out looking for converts in beaches and waterparks, it looks somehow cuter though that might be Samantha's cheekbones and ponytail and perfect abs and delts and butt, which she will lead classes on how to emulate. Samantha saves way more souls than anyone else in the God Squad.) "Is pubic hair sinful? (yes: it hides the beauty of a cunt especially in arousal; no: God put it there; maybe: style it nicely)" "Is prayer more effective if conducted on the family's Sybians?" "Activism and proselytism, how to balance appeal with sufferance, what to offer and what not to offer, avoiding troublesome and dangerous unbelievers." ("Men: you may watch me pray but not touch me unless you are saved. Your pants stay on or I leave. I can touch your erection through your clothes but not on the skin. Women: please strip completely nude and join me in prayer! I can and will eagerly assist you to connect with God!") "Fun ways to torment Oppressive Persons, who the Devil has moved to harm gymnogynists!"

Thinking on it more, it seems obvious to me that a core tenet of such a religion would be that the female orgasm is the spiritual connection with God (even the unbelievers will often instinctively cry out), and therefore a girl should be taught to pray properly as soon as she is old enough, which should be soon for the Sanders twins, though a doctrinal question there is whether the natural use of human hands is required or whether a device is permitted to be involved, and where the Sanders stand on that question is your choice not mine!

[Gymnogynist]

CHAPTER TWO

Kelsey and I were at the hospital parking lot within twenty minutes. Kelsey pulled on a denim microskirt and a semi-sheer halter crop top that was tight and thin enough that you could clearly make out the outline of the hard points that were her nipples through it–neither garment being one which would satisfy her school's dress code, to put it lightly–as well as the sneakers she had worn to school before getting out of the car. We made our way into the hospital, where Hannah and her younger brother Joey met us in the lobby.

There had been a car crash, and my younger brother and his wife were both in the ICU in critical condition.

“I didn't know what to do,” Hannah said, understandably looking like she was on the verge of tears.

“You were right to call me,” I reassured her, pulling her into an embrace. “I'll take care of everything.”

My brother died within the next four hours. My sister-in-law held on a couple hours longer before she too passed.

True to my word, I took care of everything. I took point in dealing with the hospital, the funeral home, and with my brother's lawyer and accountant.

It cost me a pretty penny, too. It turned out, unbeknownst to their children, their financial situation had been extremely dire and they had fallen into debt up to their eyeballs. They had no life insurance, virtually no liquid assets, and their illiquid assets were all caught up as collateral for loans that far exceeded their actual value. Hannah and Joey would be left with no house, no car, and no savings, yet alone anything with which to pay for a funeral and burial.

I absorbed the costs willingly. They were family, after all, even if we hadn't been close, and I would see that they would be treated with the respect they deserved.

And so it came to pass that less than a week later, my family was gathered in a funeral home for their viewing and funeral.

I had used a funeral home that worked often with my gymnogynist church and was accustomed to female nudity, so my wife and daughters were able to remove their G-strings upon entering the funeral home.

The mortician had, as per my instructions, placed my sister-in-law in her casket without any clothing. He had done good work, too. I'm no necrophiliac, but at 38 my sister-in-law had still been an attractive woman, and that was on full display here.

I reached out and palmed her large left tit in my hand. It was disconcertingly cold to the touch, of course, but it filled my palm easily and was nicely firm. My sister-in-law had had a great set of tits; it was a shame that only my brother had gotten to enjoy them when she was alive.

Now, in death, she would be exposed to all who came to her viewing and funeral. No longer would she be able to deny God-fearing men their right to see and appreciate her naked body.

The funeral home was empty, as the viewing wasn't scheduled to start until 10am and we had arrived at 9. At about a little bit past 9:30, Hannah and Joey arrived. Hannah's car had fortunately been in her name, a gift from her parents for her 16th birthday, so she was able to keep it. Of course, it was a junker which probably had less than two grand in resell value, so that wasn't saying much.

They were still staying at their parent's house for the moment, although we all knew that foreclosure was imminent unless I stepped in and began making their mortgage and home equity payments, something which I had no intention of doing.

“She's naked!” Hannah objected when she saw her mother in the casket.

“She is,” I agreed. As all women should be, I thought but didn't add.

“She would hate it.”

“She would,” I agreed again. “She sadly never learned to recognize in life that, as a woman, nudity was her correct and proper state.”

Hannah looked like she was about to argue, then turned away.

I turned to her brother, who seemed to be doing his best to look anywhere that wasn't his mother's casket or Irena or one of the twins. “Joey,” I told him, gesturing for him to come nearer, “come here and take a good long look at your aunt and cousins. There's no reason to avert your eyes. God gave girls the bodies they have so they could be admired by men.”

Tentatively at first, Joey turned his attention to Darcey, at first looking her in the eye, and then slowly letting his gaze drop lower, traveling over her tits, then her cunt, all the way to her feet. Then he turned to Kelsey and did the same to her in the opposite direction, starting at her bare feet and slowly working his way up.

The twins, used to being put on display this way, stood smiling with their legs spread a little more than shoulders’ width apart, their arms at their sides, and their backs arched slightly to push their hips forward, flattening their stomachs and emphasizing their tits, cunt, and legs.

Joey's breathing had already begun to grow somewhat heavier as eyes with noticeably dilated pupils turned to take in my wife. She was, of course, just as untroubled by being seen naked by her nephew as the twins had been, and shot Joey an encouraging smile. She may not have been a gymnogynist from birth like Darcey and Kelsey, but she had been nonetheless living the lifestyle since before they had been conceived; a teenaged boy salivating at her naked body was nothing new to her, and something she had long ago accepted as being correct and proper.

Mourners began to appear a little before 10. Some were friends and colleagues of the deceased, and I could watch their initial shock at seeing Irena and the twins standing naked in the family receiving line. Others were the families of friends of Hannah and Joey, and they of course had a similar reaction. But others were friends and acquaintances of mine come to offer their condolences to me and my family on my loss of a brother, and they were more used to seeing my women naked. Indeed, some–mostly members of my church–were gymnogynists themselves, and so there were naked women and girls to be found on both sides of the receiving line.

“We should talk about your future,” I told Hannah during a lull in activity where a mourner had moved on from us but the next in line was still talking to Joey. “We will gladly take Joey, of course. He's still a minor, and you're in no position to be able to support him. I already have my lawyer working on the adoption papers.

“You're welcome to live with us as well as you finish your senior year of high school. If you continue to stay with us past graduation, I might even be willing to pay for your college tuition, depending on what school you go to. But I'm sure you're aware that my household has certain rules pertaining to women.”

She visibly swallowed. “I would need to be naked,” she said, not quite looking at me, a tremble in her voice.

I nodded. “You're eighteen years old. A legal adult. That means you can decide for yourself whether you want to submit to the rules of my household or strike out for yourself.”

I could see the indecision on her face as she considered her options. What it would mean for her to start out with nothing, nowhere to go, no place to stay. At the very least she would need to get a job so she could pay for food and gas for her car, yet alone a room in an apartment somewhere. Even selling her car would at most gain her enough for a month or two of rent, although perhaps she could stretch it to as much as four or five months with roommates. Almost certainly she would need to drop out of school in order to support herself. And any path towards bettering her situation would be long and uncertain.

But her other option was going naked not only in front of me and her brother, but also countless strangers. And other men who were not strangers. To have absolutely no control over who could see what had previously been protected, intimate, and private.

I found it exciting that I legitimately couldn't predict what she would decide. The mourner talking to Joey finally moved on and our attention was back on receiving the condolences of the crowd again.

“I'll do it,” she said at last, about ten minutes later.

“Do what?” I asked, positively tingling with excitement.

“I'll live with you. Be . . . naked. Like Aunt Irena and the twins.”

“Excellent,” I said, and my smile was genuine. “By all means, go ahead.”

Her eyes suddenly went very wide, a deer-in-headlights sort of expression. It was almost comical. “Now?” she asked, her voice little more than a whisper.

“There's no time like the present,” I pointed jovially. “And it's not like you'd be the only naked girl in the room.” I gestured towards her aunt and cousins.

She looked at me and then, after a long pause, nodded. Her hands trembling, she began to undo a fastener on the side of her black sheath dress, then pulled the whole thing over her head, leaving herself in a strapless yet disappointingly utilitarian black bra, white bikini panties with pink trim, a pair of black stockings, and high heels.

Understandably, her act of removing her dress garnered a certain amount of attention, and now every eye in the now-silent room was on her, especially the male ones.

Her still-trembling hands moved next to her brassiere, tugging it around so the fastener in the back was in the front, liberating her ample tits from the garment’s cups as she did so, revealing large red areolae with erect nipples. She undid the fastener on the bra, letting it fall down on the ground next to her discarded dress.

I leaned over and picked up both garments from the floor, checking the tag on the bra as I did so. 34DD. Irena was only a C-cup, and the twins, while still developing, were currently both mere B-cups, so Hannah’s tits would easily be the largest in my now expanding household.

I managed to pull my eyes away from Hannah's tits (I would have plenty of time to admire them in the days to come, after all) to look around the room. As expected, every guy's gaze was as glued to my teenaged niece's naked chest as mine had been. Most of the women were looking too, some with disgusted shock, some with jealousy, and some with appreciation. The other gymnogynistic women in the room watched with warm smiles, welcoming a new sister in their nudity.

Hannah stepped out of her funeral shoes, black pumps with a low two-inch heel, then began removing her right stocking. Bending over caused her tits to hang vertical in a very satisfying fashion. It also provided a nice view of her tight ass which sadly was still covered in far too much fabric, although at least a third of each cheek was bare.

Once she had removed her left stocking as well, she paused, took a deep breath, then hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her panties, pushed them down to the floor to reveal a hairy bush, and stepped out of them. She was naked.

She looked around at all the eyes staring at her intently, quickly covered her cunt with her right hand while palming her right tit with her left hand and using her left forearm and elbow to cover her left nipple.

After being used to the almost blasé nudity practiced by my family and by the other gymnogynist women I knew, there was something delicious about this attempt to cover herself even when naked. That didn't mean I was going to let that attempt persist, however.

“Not covering yourself applies to your hands just as much as to clothing,” I explained to Hannah patiently. It also applied to the mess of public hair between her legs, but I didn't mention that just yet. We were at the poor girl’s parents’ funeral, after all; there would be plenty of time to take care of her pubes once her parents were buried. “You had better move those arms to your sides unless you want to earn yourself a public spanking. Not that I think this crowd would mind much if you were to.”

She looked horrified. “You wouldn't!”

“I very much would, my dear. Living in my house means submitting to my discipline. Unless you've decided to reconsider?”

For a moment I think she did reconsider, but as she replayed the options through her mind again she evidently came to the same conclusions as before. “No, Uncle.” She held her arms at her sides.

I smiled, although part of me regretted that I wouldn't get that chance to spank her. “Good girl.”

Hannah's face (and tits) were beat red as the middle-aged man who was next in line told her how sorry he was for her loss. I didn't know the man, so he must have known Hannah or Joey or their parents.

I did notice that he was very careful to keep eye contact with her the entire time. His loss. Her bare tits, her entire naked body, were there to be looked at and appreciated.

“Th-thank you, Mr. Rossi,” she managed to reply.

The next boy didn't even try to disguise the way his eyes raked over her naked body as he took in each square inch of exposed skin. Good for him. He didn't even bother to offer any condolences, just stood there for a whole minute staring at her before reluctantly passing on.

“I'm so sorry about your parents,” a gymnogynist woman from my church in her mid-sixties, Mrs. Kelly, said to Hannah as she came down the line. She gave my niece a reassuring smile. “As for the other thing, you'll find it’s not so bad. You'll get used to it.”

But as I watched my niece stand next to me, naked and trembling with embarrassment, there was a part of me–a part I'm not proud of, but there nonetheless–that hoped Mrs. Kelly was wrong, and that she never would. Or at least not right away.

END OF CHAPTER TWO