Oops! A story by Donna, part 1

You all know what I was like when I was a freshman. What? You don’t remember? Well, I’ll admit it, even I forgot what a prude I was. When Crysta and I first moved into Bodacious Hall together, I was so shy I wore a dress! No, not a little t-shirt, worn as a dress. I mean an actual dress.

I know. Hard to believe.

Or maybe not. You see, I was fresh out of high school, and when I was in high school, even on “bottomless day” I always wore at least a thong. Back in high school, we girls thought it was daring to wear “just a top” — that’s what we called it, even though we wore underwear. Panties, I mean, or maybe a thong if we we wanted to show off our cute little cheeks.

So when I got to the College I was shocked – outraged, even – to find out we weren’t even allowed to wear panties. Why was I so mad? Because the boys might get to see the “real me” instead of a pair of panties. Ha ha! So funny, now that I look back on it. It’s no wonder the Inspectors all thought I was cheating. What was I hiding under those long dresses? At first, I was a little embarrassed to be Inspected, you know? It’s understandable, I think. I wasn’t used to taking off my dress in public. On the other hand, I didn’t want people to think I was a bad girl. So I was conflicted. But in the end, it really didn’t matter. The dress had to come off. There was no saying “no” to an Inspector. I learned that the hard way: by being cited a couple times for “Indecency” just for hesitating to strip.

Don’t get me wrong. Most of the time it’s no problem being Inspected, nothing more than a minor inconvenience. I mean, we’re all naked under our clothes, right? So what’s the harm in proving it? Most of the time, I just got naked, and stood there, with my legs apart, and hands behind my head. It’s kind of a vulnerable position, but it makes sense. If you’re going to strip a girl naked, you don’t want her crossing her legs, or covering up her pussy, right? Most of the time, I just have to stand there, and let people look at me. Sometimes the Inspector makes me bend over and grab my calves, which makes me feel even more vulnerable. Most of the time, that’s the worst of it. After posing like that for about five minutes, I get to put my clothes on again, and go on my way. Sometimes the Inspector will tease me a little, you know — he’ll rub my inner thighs, or the bottoms of my cheeks just enough to make me good and wet, and then he’ll tell me to leave without any clothing. I’ve seen what happens to girls who stand up for their rights, and demand their clothing — they get cited for indecency! So I’m a good little girl, and I leave. Let me tell you: It doesn’t take long for a naked girl with a wet pussy to get raped. Not fun.

As you can imagine, I wasn’t at all happy about this whole situation, so I asked Crysta for some help. It wasn’t so much getting raped that bugged me, it was getting naked I didn’t like. Let me clarify: it was being the only one naked that I didn’t like. When I’m in a group of naked girls, like at the pool, I don’t mind at all being naked myself. Or back at the dorm, in the evening, like most girls, I like to just take off my clothes and relax.

Crysta explained the problem to me: My dresses are too long. “You’re thinking about it all wrong,” she told me over and over. You see, I had been thinking a dress should be an inch or two longer than crotch-length, you know, for “safety”, but how safe is that, really? Whenever you bend over, people can see everything. Or sitting, even with your legs together, people can see up your dress.

So does that inch or two below the crotch provide any safety at all? No. Crysta had me wear a top as a dress that was exactly crotch-length, and go shoe shopping! I wrote about it a few years ago. I was so embarrassed! But to my surprise, everyone was so nice! No one made me feel uncomfortable, or embarrassed. I felt so exposed, but in fact, Crysta assured me my pussy was rarely visible, and the one or two times a person saw it, they would always pretend they didn’t.

You know what I learned? A girl’s butt is only half-covered by a crotch-length dress. I know, I should have realized it, but I had no idea. Here’s the point: crotch minus one or two inches? No big difference. So it covers a third of my butt instead of half. Who cares? Trust me: I didn’t change overnight, but over time, I did get used to wearing shorter tops as dresses. And here’s something interesting: Once you’ve graduated to crotch minus three inches, then crotch minus four or five isn’t really any different. None of your butt is covered by any of these dresses, and your pussy isn’t really hidden, either. You’re essentially bottomless once you’ve got about three inches of your crotch showing.

It took Crysta a whole year to transform me from a prudish girl who got inspected almost every day to a sophisticated girl who wore tops and no bottoms to every class. Of course, when I went out into the town, I dressed a little more conservatively — my tops were crotch-length, or crotch minus an inch or two at the most — and I really felt, well, half naked when I was in the “real world”. The thing is: Crysta really helped transform me, that year.

Then in the next three years at the College, I became gradually more and more comfortable going to my classes completely bottomless. Yes, the fondling was a little annoying at times, but I took it in stride, spreading my legs whenever a boy (or a girl!) wanted to stroke my inner thighs. That was sure a lot easier than being Inspected. A lot of other girls were bottomless, too, and they were a comfort to me, especially because I saw I wasn’t the only girl who got excited in public. If a boy wanted to pick out a girl to have sex with, well, it wasn’t hard to find one. Sometimes it was me. In those cases, I was always an obedient little girl. I would always take off my top for the boy, in case he wanted to see my little tits. I know a girl is supposed to feel like she’s being punished whenever a boy fucks her in public, but I kind of liked it.

So now I’m a full grown adult, but I’m still a girl, and now I’m out in the real world, not the insulated world of the College Campus. So I’ve reverted a bit. I feel a little uncomfortable wearing a crotch-length top as a dress, especially without even a thong under it. At the same time, I have to put on a brave front for my students. These adorable young girls and boys look up to me, and they want to emulate me, and I really want them to feel comfortable. In fact, I want them to feel as comfortable wearing a crotch-minus-four-inch top as I felt by the *end* of my freshman year. I want these high school girls to wear their sexy clothes not just to school, but to the mall, to dinners and movies, to their soccer games and concerts.

So I’m being a good example to them. I’m wearing a top that’s several inches short of crotch length. I’m going to stand in front of the boys and the girls with my pussy showing. It’s going to kill me to dress this way, but I’ll hide it, the way I did my freshman year at the college. I’ll turn my back to the class, knowing just about my whole butt is exposed. I’ll sit on my desk and teach them without making a special effort to keep my legs together or hold my hands in my lap. I’ll even walk between their desks, daring the boys (and the girls) to reach out and touch me. After all, that’s part of College life.

And the boys need to be prepared for College, too. Sure, the girls worry about being fondled, but no one worries about the students who have to do the fondling. Can you imagine how hard it must be for the boys in my class to reach out and stroke my thighs? It’s important they get over that fear. It’s important they see me get excited, so they know it’s okay to make a girl excited when she’s wearing a short dress.

I’ve never worn a top shorter than crotch length to class before, but it’s time to set the right example. So, this morning, Cyrsta picked out three tops for me to choose from. The longest one was a sleeveless light blue top, about two or three inches short of crotch length. It was tailored to fit my figure, and really made me look sexy, if I say so myself. The next one was a kind of wife-beater, very thin and tight, about hip length. I like this one because it’s snug on me, and shows off my figure. The last one was a cute little sweater that shows off my belly, and buttons in front. I like the sweater because it shows off my belly, but I would normally wear it with a matching bottom, like a micro-miniskirt or something.

“I like the sweater,” said Crysta, laughing. She was laughing because she knew it was too sexy for me to wear to school.

“Forget it,” I said. “But I’ll wear either of the other two.”

“You’ll wear the wife-beater that’s so thin I can see your adorable areolas through it?”

I blushed. “yes,” I said, a little choked up.

“What?”

“Can’t I wear the blue top? Please?”

Crysta laughed. “I know you need me to force you to set a great example for your kids. So I’m going to help you.”

At that moment, I felt so overwhelmed with love for my beautiful roommate I think I cried a little. I gave her a huge hug, and promised I would be a good girl and do what she says.

I left for school wearing only the wife-beater, which barely covered my belly button.

What could go wrong?