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[enmstorytime]

The Mandatory Nudity Study

Congratulations! We are delighted to inform you that you have been accepted into our Masters of Psychology program. Classes begin August 26, 2024, and you are expected to attend all of your courses in person.

As part of your graduate coursework, you have been selected to participate in a research project that will pay for your tuition, student fees, on-campus housing, meal card, and provide an additional twenty-thousand dollar stipend per semester.

If you decide to opt into our program, participation in this research project is mandatory.

Your assigned research project: The impact of Mandatory Nudity on Mental Health.

Overview: For the entirety of a graduate program (three years), one male student will be required to surrender every fiber of clothing he owns to the Psychology Department. This student will then complete coursework, assist classmates with their research, and teach a Psychology 101 Course each semester, sans all clothing. The nude student will conduct weekly mental-health check-ins and attend weekly group and individual therapy sessions to monitor the mental health impact of his mandatory nudity.

Directions for the Nude Subject:

Arrive fully clothed on the first day of courses. We recommend you where your favorite clothes. This will be the last time you will be allowed to wear clothing until after your graduation ceremony. Pack up the rest of your clothing. All of your clothing. Even a forgotten sock will result in rejection from this study (see "Consequences of an Incomplete Study below).

Bring your packed clothing to the campus-wide graduate student orientation. At some point during the orientation, you will be invited on stage in front of all of your peers. Once on stage, you will be invited to hand off all of your packed clothes. Then you will be handed your nudity pass, which you must carry with you everywhere. Your nudity pass can be given to any business or law enforcement officer to allow you to live a normal life while having your clothing restricted. Once you have your nudity pass, you will be asked to surrender the last pieces of your clothing: the shirt, pants, shoes, socks, undergarments, etc. off your back).

You are expected to live on campus and eat at least 90% of your meals throughout your graduate studies in the campus cafeteria. There will be no exceptions to these rules.

Your clothing will not be returned to you until after graduation (in three years time). You are not permitted to buy any clothing until after graduation. This means that you will spend your summers and holiday breaks nude as well. If you choose to return home to your family during holidays and summers, please report to your professor to receive a Traveling Nude Pass which is accepted at all national airports, but may not be accepted by local law enforcement, so travel with caution. If you are arrested for public indecency, it is up to you to ensure that you do not wear any prison assigned clothing. Again: If we discover that you have reserved any clothing or worn a single scrap of clothing (this includes baseball caps, glasses (if you need glasses, we will provide you contact lenses), socks, jewelry, or even towels wrapped around your waist), you will be rejected from the study.

Carry on a normal life. You should work to get involved in student clubs, make friends, attend all of your classes, etc. while remaining fully nude.

You are allowed thirty minutes a day where you can use your hands to cover your genitals. It is up to you to monitor this time, but if we discover that you have spent a second more than your allotted thirty minutes covering yourself with your hands, you will be ejected from the survey.

Attend all mandated therapies. You are assigned to group therapy twice a week, and individual therapy once a week to monitor your mental health throughout this research.

After you walk the stage at graduation, your clothing will be returned to you. Note: If you find that your experience with mandatory nudity has had a positive impact on your mental health, you have the option to retain your Nude Pass for the rest of your life, and the Psychology Department is prepared to redistribute all of your clothing during the graduation ceremony.

Rules of the Study:

You are not allowed to purchase, ask for, or wear any scrap of clothing for the entirety of your graduate program (from orientation to the end of your graduation ceremony. This study defines clothing as anything other than your own hands used to cover even a millimeter of your naked skin (i.e. backpacks, watches, etc.).

You are allowed exactly thirty minutes of time per day to use your hands to cover your genitals.

You must carry your nude pass with you at all times.

You must surrender every article of clothing that you own at the start of your study.

Consequences of an Incomplete Study:

If you are unable to complete this study for any reason, or if you are caught violating any of the rules of the study, your clothing will be retained by the Psychology Department. You will be required to repay the Psychology Department your semesterly stipend of $20,000. Additionally, you will be required to repay your tuition, student fees, housing costs, and meal card. For the sake of fully informed consent, we do not expect you to be able to repay these debts, we simply intend for you to be at the mercy of others' kindness in order to ever wear clothing again.

In order to accept your position in this study and in this program, please send our department your acceptance along with a single pair of your underwear to help mentally prepare yourself for the eventual surrender of every single stitch of your clothing.

[enmstorytime]

I wasn’t the only commuter who pushed past her, the old woman on the subway platform. I was late for work, and the subways had been delayed for the fifth time that morning. Even though I had emailed my boss to let him know about the transit delays, he had responded telling me that if I was another half-hour late, I’d need to be finding a new job. When the subway came, the old woman was hesitant to join the rush for the opening subway doors, so I brushed past her, certain that she wasn’t on any time crunch that could be as stressful as mine. 

The subway car filled up, and she still stood on the platform. The doors closed, then reopened because somewhere along the train someone hadn’t gotten all the way into their car. I hated when that happened, I’d always try to avoid eye contact with the angry commuters who hadn’t been able to fit on the subway this time. 

For some reason this morning, I looked out at the platform as the doors opened and made eye contact with the old woman. Instead of looking angry, she looked gleeful, her eyes locking on me.

“You’ve made a mistake this morning, boy,” she said in a high pitched voice.

The rest of the commuters continued to stare down at their phones, but my eyes fixed on her.

“I curse you that your body--” the subway doors closed, then reopened once more. 

“--clothing.” She finished. 

Then the doors closed for good, and the station fell away behind us.

What a weird woman, I thought, grabbing the handrail and pulling out my phone to scroll the internet. I fell into the trance of the screen, moving mechanically as passengers brushed past me to exit and board the train.

About halfway to my office, just as I managed to snag a seat, it happened. My clothes burst off my body. Not just my dress shirt and pants, which would have been mortifying enough. Everything on my body pulled away from me in every direction, One second I was fully clothed, the next I was in the center of a confetti storm of thread, the invisible tugging from all directions shredding my clothes so that I couldn’t tell what had been shirt, socks, pants, or underwear. Even the leather and plastic of my dress shoes had pulled themselves apart to form unrecognizable specks. 

I sat on the crowded subway shocked, watching the flecks of fabric that had once been my clothes gently drifting over the passengers, who had all pulled their eyes away from their phones and their books to trace the source of the multi-colored fabric snow, and every eye landed on me, sitting there, holding my phone, staring back.

I yelped, dropped my phone, and threw my hands over my exposed dick. 

“Oh my god, he’s naked,” a man in a business suit a few seats away shouted.

“Nice cock,” said the NYU student who was standing above me holding the rail.

“Some people have no sense of decency,” a woman a few seats behind me sniffed. 

While I looked around frantically for anything more than my hands to cover myself, I made eye-contact with a set of Mormon missionaries sitting in their white shirts, and ties. One of them stared up at the ceiling, avoiding eye-contact, while the other kept sneaking furtive glances my way, his eyes lingering on my hips and my hands (that were barely containing my naked penis). 

The train came to another stop, and the more prudish-seeming commuters shoved their way off the train, probably hurrying to alert the authorities, but before any authorities could be summoned, the train doors closed and the train was off again, and there I sat, still naked, still covering my cock, still the center of attention.

My mind scrambled trying to figure out how this could have happened. When I realized I couldn’t come up with an explanation, I started to sink into the reality of my situation.

I was completely naked on the subway during rush-hour. For now my hands were able to cover my cock, but that was because I had dropped my phone, which was nowhere to be found--likely picked up and pocketed by a fellow commuter on the train who was willing to kick a naked man while he was down. If I started to get hard, I knew that my hands wouldn’t be able to hold all of me in. 

At the thought I felt the tell-tale pulsing that started in my balls, and I could feel the blood starting to travel to my groin.

“Here,” a voice said, sitting next to me.

It was the Mormon who had been sneaking glances at me. He held his tie out to me, 

“It’s not much, but...” his eyes swept from my bare toes to my face.

What might have seemed like a Good Samaritan action, was actually his way of getting another glance at my cock. I reached out with one hand to take it, still holding my swiftly swelling dick in my other hand, and I knew as his eyes trailed downward that I was flashing him a glimpse of side-cock. 

It didn’t matter though. The second my finger touched the tie, it shredded itself like my clothes had. I was so surprised I jumped, letting go of my cock, and once again exposing my entire body to the entire subway. 

A few people cheered, a couple gasped. The missionary’s eyes fixed on my cock, like he was trying to memorize the pattern of veins that had begun swelling across my member.

“It looks like your body literally repels clothing,” he said, and I noted the hunger in his voice.

The words caught me off guard, and I forgot to cover myself again as the memory of the old woman from the platform swam back to the surface of my mind. It didn’t make any sense. It was impossible. But she had cursed me that my body would... something... clothing. Had she cursed me that my body would repel clothing? 

To test, I reached out and grabbed the Mormon by the shoulder. His shirt exploded like mine had, and for a millisecond I felt the fabric of his special Mormon undershirt beneath before that too exploded away from him. His black name tag, and the Jesus cards he carried in his breast pocket clattered to the floor of the subway.

“What the hell was that for?” He asked, pulling away from me.

I resisted the temptation to grab his pants. It would have felt so good to have someone else be in the spotlight with me, but I knew that impulse was petty. And the Mormon had already crossed his arms over his nipples. With his sense of modesty, a sudden, complete exposure would have killed him. And he had been kind, unlike the people I noticed now who were taking this moment when my cock was unexposed to snap pictures on their cell phones.

“I’m sorry,” I said, as the Mormon got up and retreated back to his partner, with his arms still firmly crossed over his chest.

In retrospect, I regretted not grabbing him on the thigh. He had a hot, lean body under all those dress clothes. If he got to sneak glances at all of me, I should have taken the chance to do the same. It was only fair.

The train pulled to another stop. This was my stop. I debated for a millisecond. I didn’t want to go to work completely naked. All of my coworkers would see all of me, and there would be no way I could get my work done while still covering my cock. 

On the other hand, I had no idea how to break the curse the witch had cast, which meant I’d be naked for the foreseeable future. I might as well go to work, try to explain my predicament, and hope I got to keep my job.

My predicament was solved for me though, as I looked out the window to see the cops on the platform, they were watching each window, and when their eyes fell on me, they hurried to block both doors to my car. 

I was hauled away in handcuffs, my naked body pulled up the stairs, hands locked behind my back so my dick flopped freely. As they pulled me out of the subway, my cock had it’s first exposure to sunlight, and to the gaze of the crowded city street. I don’t know how many tourists have pictures of me saved on their phones. I don’t know how many times pictures of my naked body have been shared all over social media. I don’t know how many of my coworkers, friends, and family have seen every inch of me now, photo'd from every angle. What I know is that by the time I reached the police station, the two officers hauling me had had their uniforms explode piece by piece as I jostled into them. 

[enmstorytime]

The Show Off (with pictures)

https://www.lpsg.com/threads/enm-embarrassed-naked-men.5159421/post-116504191

[enmstorytime]

[enmstorytime]

[enmstorytime]

The Vulnerable Writer Chapter 5

When I walked through the classroom door, every student was already seated with their eyes fixed on me, their faces hungry. They watched me expectantly as I crossed the room to my desk and set down my messenger bag, removed my lesson plan, and started to log into the classroom desktop. This daily routine helped me stay calm, and helped my cock stay flaccid under my slacks and black mesh briefs. It would be a miracle if I managed to remain calm once the action started when my students would circle me and tear away every last stitch of clothing from my lean body.

The final five minutes of class time ticked by too fast. I tried making small talk with the students near my desk, including Cody and Seth who both already knew what waited beneath my clothing. However, no matter how much I tried to engage them, each student sat silently, their eyes flicking from my body to the clock on the wall by the classroom door.

At thirty seconds before class time, I crossed the front of the classroom again, and closed the door. I realized as the door closed that when it reopened, I would be butt-naked, my clothing taken by the twenty-five men in the classroom, and I’d have to make my way back to my office with nothing more than my messenger bag. My bare feet would slap across the tile floor down the hallway and up a flight of stairs. Any of my colleagues—or worse, the dean of the department—could potentially see me trying to hide my naked body behind my messenger bag. And based, on my luck the day that Cody left my office with all my clothes, I wasn’t expecting to make it to my office without being seen.

The blood started running toward my cock at the thought of getting caught, and I pulled my thoughts back to this moment where I stood, still fully dressed in front of the twenty-five men who had written powerful, vulnerable essays. I wanted to reward them, had promised I would reward them, but I hadn’t actually expected them to pull it together. Sure, it had been fun and anxiety inducing to walk around the classroom with a jockstrap on and my ass hanging out. Sure, it had been fun to give my clothes to Cody, and to let Seth suck me off in the bushes, but this was a new level. I’d never been so on display before, and it wouldn’t be for just today.

From now on, until the end of the semester, I had promised to teach in the buff. I hadn’t made any stipulations for visitors. I hadn’t made any plans for potential observations from my colleagues. It was still only the fourth week of the semester, which meant that for eleven more weeks, three times each week, for hour long class periods, I would strip completely naked in front of a class that was—to my knowledge—the best attended freshman composition course taught at our university.

Oh fuck, I thought, imagining the faculty meetings where my colleagues would bitch about how their students weren’t attending their classes. Professor Wilson, the dean would say, turning to me in the imaginary meeting playing out in my head. You’ve had perfect attendance for most of the semester. How do you do it? What’s your secret? I’d have to lie, but there would be other professors who would want to know, who would beg to come observe my class to see what made my teaching so dynamic that twenty-five eighteen-to-twenty-year-olds attended every single class period. And I’d have to let them come. Our department had a policy that we were allowed and encouraged to observe anyone else’s class at any time.

“Professor,” Cody said from across the classroom, pulling me away from my anxious thoughts. “I believe it’s time to start the class.”

The rest of the students chuckled, their eyes now fixed once more on me, each of them clearly imagining what they would be uncovering any second now. I noted a few amused smirks, mixed in with the general hunger. Because of my run-ins with Cody and Seth, I had expected sexual hunger from my students, I hadn’t yet realized that some of my students had played along for the laugh of stripping a professor naked. Of course, not all of my students were gay, but I hadn’t processed that the body I worked so hard to maintain would shortly become a source of mirth for a few of my students. While I was proud of what I had going on, I dreaded the laughs I knew I would get when I stood exposed before every eye in this classroom.

“Right,” I said, nervously clearing my throat and crossing once again to my desk. “Right, it’s time to start class.”

“How were the essays?” One of the football players in the background shouted to appreciative laughter. “I know I got really vulnerable in mine.”

I swallowed at the lump forming in my throat, my hands started to quiver, my knees knocked.

“I was too,” said one of the football player’s buddies.

Every student in the room started clamoring, shouting that they too had been vulnerable. I held my hands up, and they fell silent.

“I’m very proud of you all,” I said, my voice wavering, a flush spreading from my cheeks over my entire body. “I’m also very surprised.”

They laughed, which made me feel a little less nervous, a little more comfortable. I knew I was in my element as a professor if I could get my students to laugh. It would be alright. They’d get over the novelty of my naked body, and then life would continue as normal. Right?

“I believe you made us some promises,” Cody shouted, and the class started cheering again.

If it hadn’t been Cody, if I hadn’t had Cody’s naked body pressed against mine only a few weeks before, if I couldn’t remember the way he smiled as he took my load in his mouth, I think my cock would have held out for a little longer. But at his voice, at the obvious hunger, and mirth, and desire that met me in every face, the blood rushed to my penis faster than it had ever before in my life, straining against the fabric of my briefs and tenting my slacks.

“Look,” Seth said, “He’s even excited!”

The classroom exploded in whoops and catcalls, while I stood there, knowing that it would take every stitch of fabric on my body to get the class under control again, if that was even possible. I breathed in deep, steeling my nerves, trying to will away the boner, and knowing that I’d probably be hard for the rest of the class period. Then my eyes landed on Cody, and I nodded.

“Let’s fucking go!” Cody shouted.

And they were on me.

Hands. Fifty hands. Every single student somehow managed to get both of their hands on the clothing I’d worn today. I felt fingers squeezing at my body, feeling the tautness of my muscles beneath. I felt the first button on my shirt be torn away. Then the next. Then the next. Until my shirt was open, revealing the sleeveless undershirt beneath. Then the over shirt was shredded by the hungry hands, the scraps thrown to the floor, or slipped into pockets as keepsakes.

“He thought he could slow us down,” someone shouted to more appreciative catcalls, while someone’s hand ran through my hair, and someone’s lips landed on my left bicep, their tongue slipping out.

I thought about trying to stop the kissing and the licking, but I knew it would be no use. Instead, I focused on how they had lifted me off the ground and tugged my shoes and socks off, while they lifted me over their heads, holding my arms and legs apart, while my bare feet were manhandled.

It would be over soon, I kept reminding myself, as the undershirt was tugged up and over my head, past my wrists, and off my body entirely. It received the same treatment as my overshirt, shredded, some pieces saved as souvenirs, some left on the ground for the janitors to sweep up: evidence that someone had lost their clothes in this classroom. My naked torso was fondled. My nipples squeezed, flicked, and licked. Hands slid up and down my pecs and abs.

It all felt so good. I knew I shouldn’t have liked it so much, but I could feel the most powerful orgasm of my life building in my balls, my toes already curling with pleasure, as the hands moved to my waist, to my groin, to my ass.

The button of my slacks was torn away, the fly torn down, and in seconds I was held aloft in nothing but my mesh briefs, my penis hard and red, contained by the mesh briefs, but completely invisible. The classroom went wild as they ran their hands over the mesh, and I felt the skin contact and the mesh. I couldn’t stop the moan of pleasure as they felt along my almost completely naked body.

“He likes it!” Someone shouted to more catcalls and cackles.

Just as I was about to lose myself in pleasure, they set me back on the ground. The sensation of my bare feet meeting the cold linoleum of the classroom pulled me back from climax, even while my boner raged on, the mesh stretched to its limits.

The next part had to have been planned. My students encircled me, each wrapped a few fingers in the band of my mesh briefs, every eye fixed on my already visible cock and ass. I stood in the center, with my arms behind my head, surrendering to the pleasure of the moment.

“One…” Cody called.

It was coming. Sure, there was nothing else for them to really see, but I still had something to lose, and they were going to take it away.

“Two…” Cody called.

And God, did I want them to take it away. Deep in my core, I knew that this was how I always wanted to teach. No secrets. Nothing hidden. Entirely open and vulnerable.

“Three.” Cody called.

The briefs shredded as every man tugged the waistband away from my body. My hard cock flopped out painfully as the last piece of clothing was pulled away from me and into at least twenty-five little pieces. I closed my eyes as I heard the gasps, the laughter, the oh my gods, and the he’s actually naked. He’s really, completely naked!

Their hands rushed forward again to explore every inch of me. I didn’t bother to open my eyes. I just let their hands, their lips and their tongues explore. It was absolute ecstasy. I didn’t bother to hold back anymore, either. A finger grazed the tip of my cock, and I groaned, pushing my hips forward, and was met with the palm of a hand, wrapping around my shaft.

I exploded, losing all sense of anything but the pleasure in my groin, the pleasure of my skin, exposed to the light, exposed to their eyes, exposed to their hands. I came, and came, and came, sending rope after rope into the laughing, delighted, even potentially disgusted group of students around me.

They held me up, as my muscles relaxed, and I almost toppled to the ground spent. Their hands held under my bare shoulder blades, on my thighs, on my ass cheeks. We stayed like that for at least five minutes, my students holding up their completely naked professor, me spent, and elated.

And then the terror sank in. I still had fifty minutes of teaching to complete, with my cock swinging in front of them, my cum drying around the room.

[enmstorytime]

The Amusement Park Chapter 1

The note my husband left on the suitcase read, “Remember, you’ll want to wear layers today.” 

I smiled, as I opened the suitcase and shuffled through our clothes, trying to find the lightest layers I could find: sleeveless undershirt, a theme-park associated t-shirt, a button up collared shirt to throw over the top. For the lower half of my body I decided to triple up on underwear: a jockstrap under briefs under boxer briefs, under shorts. Socks, shoes.

I still don’t know where the magic comes from, but every year on my birthday, I’m blessed with a strange ability. I can wish any man out of their clothes. I have to be careful though, the minute my brain thinks the thought, “I wonder what he looks like naked,” the clothing on the man in question dissolves. All his clothing.

Imagine my delight when at my eighteenth birthday party—a pool party—when the sexy lifeguard’s swimming suit dissolved in front of me. Imagine my horror, when I felt my own swimming suit dissolve, leaving me in my birthday suit surrounded by all of my friends.

With some trial and error each year, I learned that there was a balance to my powers. For every man whose clothes I dissolved, an article of my clothing melted away too. I know it’s not particularly fair to the men who lose everything, but when the universe gives you a gift, you might as well lean in.

Today is my thirtieth birthday. My husband suggested that we spend the day at an amusement park. Initially, I pushed back, aware that there could be so many beautiful men around the park.

“Isn’t that kind of the point?” My husband had asked.

It was an easy ask for him. There were no costs to his dignity. He got to enjoy all the flashes of flesh without risking anything himself. But I also couldn’t deny that it sounded fun. I’d get to spend a day living with the constant fear that if I didn’t control my thoughts, I’d be stripped naked myself, but, I’d get to see some beautiful men along the way.

“You look kinda bulky around the crotch,” my husband said, when he saw me dressed for the first time.

“It’s not comfortable,” I replied. “But it’s safety.”

“When it gets to that point, do you really think security will let you walk around the park in just your underwear?”

“No,” I said. “But what if I lose my shorts, and immediately see another really hot guy?”

“I’d like to see it,” my husband said with a smirk.

“The goal is to get out of the park before I lose everything, okay?”

“We might have different goals,” he said. “You know you’d love to ride a roller coaster or two with your cock out.”

In response, my cock stiffened.

“I’m warning you now, if I end up in my jock strap, you’re going down with me,” I said.

[enmstorytime]

The Vulnerable Writer: Chapter 4

Shit, I thought, as I finished grading the final student's essay. Shit. Shit. Shit. They'd done it.

We'd met once since Cody had taken my slacks. In our last class, I had shown up ten minutes early, slid my slacks off, hid them in my bag, and waited for my students to come.

Every single seat was full five minutes before class started. They stared pointedly at my bare legs: the dark hair that fluffed out, the veins, the definition. I wore briefs that period, and to my relief, they all seemed to accept that underwear was interchangeable. I should have suspected that their lack of complaints meant they had a plan.

And they did have a plan. Every single student, even the Mark, the football player who thought I wouldn't go through with stripping for the class had written something vulnerable. There were essays about body image, parental relationships, sexual fantasies. It was the best writing I'd ever read from all of them. I was proud. And I was fucking nervous.

I had hoped to be traipsing around in my underwear for half the semester, expecting a couple holdouts, like Mark, to not care too much about seeing their male professor stripped out of every stitch of clothing. But no.

I slept terribly that night. I had a few nightmares where just as the class shredded my underwear my dad walked into the classroom, and I watched his eyes sweep up and down every naked centimeter of my body.

I took my time getting dressed the next morning. I knew that this would be the last outfit I would be allowed to wear while teaching for the rest of the semester. I wanted it to be memorable. I slipped on a pair of black mesh briefs. I'd never worn them on anything but a date before. But now, my underwear wouldn't need to conceal any modesty. Plus, they'd be easier for my students to all get a handhold on when it came time to tear them away.

As I looked through the closet to decide on the rest of my outfit, my phone buzzed. It was an email from Cody:

"Professor,

"I can't tell you how excited everyone is for class today. We've decided you should keep the slacks on at the start of class. Today was a team effort, and we want the full reward as a team.

"See you soon ;)"

My cock hardened.

"Just choose your least favorite clothes," I told myself. "You won't own them after today anyway."

I pulled on an old undershirt, a pair of slacks that didn't fit right anyway, and a shirt that had been missing a button for a couple years. I didn't bother with the suit jacket or tie, since I figured the last thing a classroom full of horny men with permission to strip their professor to nothing but his bare skin would want would be extra layers to peel away.

Time moved strange that morning. I was caught somewhere between dread and elation. At the end of the day, eighteen new sets of eyes would see every inch of my skin. Not just my thighs. Not just my asshole. Not even just the tip of my erect penis. They'd see everything. And knowing how excitable my cock was, they'd see it hard and ready for action.

I stashed an extra set of clothes in my office. I'd still have to get from my classroom to my office while wearing absolutely nothing, but at least I'd avoid driving home naked today.

Before I knew it, it was ten minutes to class time. I stood up from my desk, double checked that my second pair of clothes was safely locked in my desk, and made my way to the classroom, my heart pounding and my cock stiffening with every step.

[enmstorytime]

The Vulnerable Writer: Chapter 3

I stood at the front of the classroom the next afternoon, looking out over the men, who were definitely more attentive than they had been before. I assumed that Cody and Seth had spread the word about seeing me naked, and maybe they had shared a few more details too. 

I gulped as I thought about the decisions I had made this morning:

I had emailed Cody to start with my pants, because I wanted my students to know that I meant business. When I got out of the shower, I pulled on a tight jockstrap, because I wanted to further stress the fact that I meant business. I told myself that I would only wear a jockstrap this first day, then I would wear more modest underwear to class, but I wondered now if they would allow me to cover up anything that I revealed. I doubted it. And standing in front of them, with all of their expectant faces, I wondered if I broke whatever rules they thought existed, it might encourage them to break the rules and just steal all my clothes during the next class.

"Professor," one of the men on the back row said, cutting into my thoughts. "I heard that Cody did a great job of being vulnerable in his last essay."

He paused, and the meaning was clear. I had a debt that I had promised to pay, and the time to start undressing had come. I had debated whether I would start or end each class with the undressing, but it seemed like my students had made that decision for me, because all eyes were trained on my body, waiting.

"You're right," I said, swallowing, trying to prepare myself. "But I need to set some clear rules for how this reward system is going to work."

The class grumbled, and I knew that they could tell I was stalling. Still, I needed to set the firm rules now, while I had all of their attention.

"There is one of me, and there are twenty of you," I said, having done the math, and understanding that if nine students did what I asked before the next class, I would be completely naked, and that counted each sock, each shoe, my tie, my undershirt, and my suit jacket, as their own article of clothing. "My goal as a teacher is to motivate every single one of you, so I need to add one rule."

I could see a few students in the back shake their heads, and I knew that they had done the same math, and they were planning to sit back and watch as their classmates took away my clothes.

"Every student who writes a vulnerable essay for this next assignment will get to take an article of my clothing," I said. "However, my underwear is off limits until I get a vulnerable essay from every single student in this classroom."

My students grumbled.

"Professor," Cody asked from the front row, leaning forward. "Does that mean that we all have to be vulnerable on the same essay, or is it more of a cumulative thing? Since I've already turned in a vulnerable essay, do I have to turn in another one for the class to get your underwear?"

"Obviously, I want you all to keep writing vulnerably," I said. "But I also understand that college students are busy and there are going to be times for everyone in this classroom where you have other priorities, so I'm going to make it cumulative."

The class cheered, but Seth had raised his hand.

"Professor?" Seth asked. "What happens when you're just in your underwear, and someone writes a vulnerable essay. What reward will they get?"

"The goal is to keep you motivated," I said, gulping again about promising the reward I had thought of the previous night. "So, if you've taken an article of clothing already, or if I'm down to my underwear, but the underwear isn't gone yet, I have two possible rewards. The first one is that at the beginning of class, you can come to the front of the class, and look down the front of my underwear. It'll stay on, but you can get a sneak peak to help encourage your classmates. Or, your other option is you can schedule a five minute conference in my office, where I will meet you sans-clothing."

The class cheered again. However, Cody had raised his hand again.

"I have one last question," Cody said. "I know that last time you said that we would get to take each article of clothing off of you, but how will that work with your underwear, since we won't get to take that until we've all written a vulnerable essay?"

"I think that should be a community activity," Seth said, smirking at me. "We should all get to work together to tear your underwear off. That way we all get a souvenir."

The class cheered at Seth's suggestion, and I felt my cock stiffen in my jockstrap, the tip pushing its way out from the waistband. The idea of having twenty men circling me, fully clothed, tearing away my final piece of clothing and leaving me stark naked in front of them excited me more than I wanted to admit. I needed to get myself to calm down before Cody claimed his reward.

"Are you done stalling?" Cody asked, already starting to stand. 

"There's one more rule," I said, and the class groaned. "I'm agreeing to get naked for you, but I am still your teacher. You will not take pictures of me without my permission and you will not touch me without my permission. Understood?"

"Is there a way to get you permission?" A student asked from the back row and the class laughed.

"There might be," I said, angry that my penis was still very inflated at the idea of giving more students the chance to touch my body.

"Great," Cody said, lunging toward me before I could find another way to stall the inevitable.

The class fell silent as Cody unbuttoned my slacks, and then his fingers brushed over my crotch as he fiddled with my zipper.

"Feels like someone's excited," Cody exclaimed as his fingers pressed against my crotch, the zipper sliding down.

The class catcalled and cheered, as Cody grabbed the waistband of my slacks with one hand and used his other hand to push my shirt up to my belly button to make sure the class could see the slow strip-tease.

The tip of my firm cock, still sticking out from the waistband of my jockstrap was the first thing they saw as the slacks inched down, and the class screamed with delight. I flushed, but continued to hold my hands out to my sides to allow the show. I had to keep reminding myself that this would all be worth it, if it meant my students would find enjoyment in their writing.

Slowly my jockstrap grew more and more exposed, the navy clinging tightly to the shaft of my erection. I knew there was little left to the imagination, but I knew that this much exposure would light a desperation for my eventual nudity in most of my students.

Then the air started to lick at my thick thighs, as Cody still slowly slipped the pants down to reveal each thick hairy thigh. I could feel the eyes on my legs and crotch, hungry as more and more skin showed. 

My slacks now slipped past my knees, but Cody was holding on, preventing them from just sliding down to my ankles. He wanted his classmates to get a show, and so did I. He controlled their fall, revealing my veiny runner calves slowly, until finally he let go as the slacks pooled around my ankles. 

For a moment, everything was silent, my students hardly breathing. None of us could really believe that I, as their teacher now stood pantsed, the tip of my very firm penis still in sight, while the rest of my privates were still fairly exposed in what was clearly my skimpiest jockstrap: a navy pouch too small to hold in my full erection.

Then my students cheered once more, and Cody stood next to me, still waiting to claim a second pair of my slacks as his own. 

I had planned the next step too, but I was debating it. I hadn't planned on my students seeing the tip of my penis, but they had, and I wondered if that would be enough. But I decided to follow through with the original plan, and I turned my back on the class, letting them take in my bare ass framed by the elastic of my jockstrap. Then I bent over slowly to pull the slacks off.

My face burned as I felt my ass cheeks separate and my students gasped and cheered as I pulled the slacks over my shoes. I stood once more, turned back to face them, glad that my ass was once again out of sight, and glad that my shit had fallen again to cover the tip of my dick. 

"Let's get started with today's lesson," I said.

I looked at each of their faces, and knew that it would only be a matter of weeks before I was teaching the class butt-naked. 

[enmstorytime]

The Vulnerable Writer: Chapter 2

I rolled off my desk, my bare feet pressing into the carpet, my dick swinging freely. Cody's cum had dried onto my abs and had matted my chest hair. I thought about brushing it off, letting the flakey remnants of our meeting mix in with the carpet, but I liked the reminder of Cody's naked body grinding up against mine.

Suggesting that Cody strip me and take my clothes with him had been exciting in the moment, but now, as I stood completely naked in the center of my office the nerves were settling in. I had told Cody that I would sneak out to my car and drive home naked. Even if I wanted to go back on that promise, I didn't have a change of clothes in my office. The walk from my office to the parking lot was about five minutes, if I took the less used paths. Then my drive home would be a thirty minute drive across the city. I drove a small car, so most cars would be able to look down into my car and get the full body view. If I didn't find a way to at least cover my crotch, I estimated that over 100 people would have seen my cock by the end of the day.

While I looked around my office for anything that I could use to cover myself, I noticed that the door was unlocked. I hurried across the office, my penis flopping back and forth at each step, and locked the door. Then I turned back to survey my office.

Bookshelves lined the walls. If all else failed, I could pull out one of the bigger books and hold it over my crotch. Still, if I were seen by anyone, they'd see more of me than I wanted. Some of the offices in my buildings had curtains, but being a newer teacher, I had been put in an office without a window, so that option was out. My messenger bag was slung over the back of my chair, and I knew that that would have to be used to maintain some sort of modesty. 

Nothing else was presenting itself as a way to maintain modesty, except for a notebook on my desk. I was in no rush to go out on the campus bare-ass naked, so I decided to spend the next twenty minutes stapling together every blank paper I could find in my office. The end result was a paper poncho, which when draped over my body fell down to my knees.

Since I hadn't made arm holes, and because I didn't want my penis anywhere near the staples, I held a copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray open against my dick under the paper poncho. I realized as I prepared to leave that I needed to be able to unlock the door and relock it on the other side, which meant that the poncho would have to go, until I was back on the other side of the door, which meant that I would have to step out into the hallway naked, except for my messenger bag. I felt the blood flowing down toward my groin as I imagined stepping out into the hallway naked. Anyone could walk by, as I was waving my ass around trying to lock my office door. 

Still, it couldn't be helped. The longer I stood around in my office, the more likely it would be that someone would turn up hoping to meet with me, and I didn't want them to find me here naked. I slung the messenger bag over my head, the strap crossing across my body. I positioned it directly in front of me, where, if I stayed still, it would cover my cock. I folded up the paper poncho, and held it tightly in one hand, placed my copy of Dorian Gray in my messenger bag, and held my keys in my free hand. I'd have to be fast. Step out. Lock the door. Pull on the poncho. Then, under the safety of the poncho, place the book in front of me. I'd still be barefoot. And the poncho was precarious at best, but there was nothing else I could do.

I walked across the office, the leather of my messenger bag rubbing against my penis. I tried to ignore it, but I could feel myself stiffening with all of the pressure.

"Fuck," I whispered, preparing myself for the worst.

Cracking the door open, I could see that the hallway was empty. I waited for a few seconds, watching, waiting to see if anyone would show up. Then I realized that waiting only increased the chances that someone would show up, while I was the most naked I intended to be on the walk to my car.

I slipped out the door, fumbled with the keys, and got the door locked. My face flushed, and my cock was fully erect behind the messenger bag, as I worried someone might show up, while my ass was exposed to the whole hallway. 

Fortunately, I got the door locked, and pulled the poncho over myself without anyone else seeing me. With the poncho covering most of me, I rotated the messenger bag to my back side, where it would cover my ass, if, god-forbid, anything happened to the poncho. Then I opened Dorian Gray, and placed it over my stiff cock. I allowed myself to smile, thinking that Oscar Wilde would probably have an orgasm if he knew where his book would end up.

I walked through the English building, my bare feet slapping against the tile floors. I crept past a few classrooms. The doors were closed, but I felt a rush of panic and excitement, as I heard voices rumbling behind the hardwood. 

When I got to the exterior doors, my heart sank. No one had seen me in the building, but outside, rain cascaded across the campus. My copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray was a rare edition, and I didn't want it to get wet. I debated for a second whether my modesty or my novel mattered more, and ultimately ended up sliding the messenger bag back in front of myself, and placing Dorian Gray back in the main pocket. If I moved fast enough, I tried to rationalize, I could make it to my car before the paper between me and near total nudity disintegrated in the deluge.

I breathed in, pushed open the door, and sprinted out into the rain, my bare feet pounding against the concrete. It hurt, and I could feel the messenger bag and my cock swaying back and forth with every footfall. Worse, within thirty seconds of stepping outside, I could feel the paper growing soggy, limp, and weak. 

"Oh god," I whispered, as the paper around my shoulders started to give, the rain starting to touch bare skin. 

The poncho didn't even last a minute, I rounded a corner onto a wooded, less traveled path, as the whole thing gave way and fell in a soggy heap around my ankles. I didn't hesitate to try to salvage anything, acutely aware that all that stood between me and complete exposure was a frantically swaying messenger bag. 

"Shit. Shit. Shit." I said, noticing that my still very much erect penis was no longer behind the messenger bag, but bouncing next to the bag. 

"Professor?" Someone asked behind me.

I whirled around to see who had caught me. With the momentum I created spinning, my messenger bag flew around to my back side, and I stood fully exposed and soaked from the rain in front of Seth, the student in my class who told the rest of the class he didn't believe I'd actually get naked in front of them.

"Oh my god!" Seth said, his eyes widening as he took in my full body. I tried, fairly-unsuccessfully, to cover my erect penis, but the head still poked out between my wrists. 

I couldn't think of anything to say, so instead I followed his eyes, which had fixated right between the wrists of my clasping hands.

"You're naked," Seth said. "You're completely naked." 

His eyes travelled up and down my naked body. And without being able to stop it, I felt precum bubble up and out of my exposed head.

"And you're completely erect," he said, his eyes on my precum. "You're so fucking hot." He took a step closer.

"I told you it wasn't bullshit," I said, trying to smile, aware that my face had turned scarlet.

He stepped closer, and we were close enough to touch. He reached out a hand, and placed a finger in my dripping chest hair. I shuddered at the touch, noticing how the rain had made his typically tight clothes cling to the muscles underneath.

"I can help you take care of that, he said, his finger trailing down my abs, and landing right in my precum. 

"Let's get off the path," I said, gesturing to the woods a few feet away. 

He wrapped his hand around my wet cock, and led me into the trees. 

"This has to be a dream," He said, as he lifted the messenger bag over my head, and set it on the ground next to us. "But if I wake up before this is over, I will fucking destroy my alarm clock."

He ran his hands over my body, squeezing my pecs and my ass, before he settled onto his knees in front of me.

For the second time today, a student took me inside of his mouth, and I felt the warm wetness that contrasted with the chilly wetness of the rain running over my skin. The thrill of the public space, of the forbidden, of the whole goddamn situation, overwhelmed me.

I lasted longer this time. Seth slid his mouth up and down my shaft, as his hands clutched desperately for whatever sections of damp skin he could hold onto, squeezing, caressing, clutching.

We moaned together as I shot my load into his mouth. He swallowed and stood, his hands still sliding all around my wet body.

"You better get used to being naked," he said, playfully spanking my ass. "I'm gonna write some pretty damn good stuff if it means I get to see this every day."

He picked up my messenger bag, draped it back over my head, winked, and hurried away.

I adjusted the messenger bag to cover my no-longer erect penis and ran the rest of the way to the car. No one else saw me, and once in the car, I positioned the bag over my crotch. I did get a few looks on the way home, but I didn't mind. I spent the drive remembering the feel of Cody and then Seth's mouths on me. 

If word spread among the students, it wouldn't be long until I would be spending everyday teaching my class completely naked.

I started to stiffen up at the thought.

[enmstorytime]

The Vulnerable Writer: Chapter 1

I got a job teaching creative writing at all-male college a few weeks after my thirtieth birthday. I had spent years preparing for this position, and I was excited to get into the classroom. Throughout my college career, my instructors had taught me the importance of my stories, and had instilled in me a powerful desire for honest, vulnerable story telling. 

When my students turned in their first set of stories, I realized how much work I had to do as a teacher. Their writing wasn’t bad, but every story I read was lacking true, vulnerable humanity. 

I spent a week pondering how to teach vulnerable story telling. Finally I had an idea that might have been a little unconventional, but that I felt would help get the point across.

“I want to teach you a lesson about vulnerability,” I told my students the next afternoon in class. 

I could feel my stomach flutter as I thought through my rehearsed speech one last time.

“As a teacher, I believe it’s my job to teach through example. How can I expect you to be vulnerable in your writing if I don’t demonstrate vulnerability in my own life.”

My students looked at me with expressions of confusion, and I almost stopped, but I plowed forward.

“Because I want you to learn vulnerability, I’m going to reward you as a class for each vulnerable piece one of you writes. The writer of each vulnerable piece will get to start the class  by coming to the front of the room and removing a piece of my clothing. I will teach for the rest of the semester without the clothing you take away.”

Every eye in the classroom traveled up and down my toned body. My suit had been tailored tight enough to show off the curves of my muscles.

“You mean, you’re going to get naked for us?” One of my students asked after a few seconds of silence.

“Maybe,” I said, trying to smile, although I could feel the fear. “But only if you write vulnerable pieces.” 

“Bullshit,” the student said, and the rest of the class snickered. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Write some vulnerable stories, and you might get to see it,” I replied.

“And you’ll just teach us for the rest of the semester with your dick out?” The student asked.

He was on the football team, close cropped hair, thick thighs, and a little bit of a beer belly hanging over the waistband of his jeans.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded.

When my students turned in their next essay, there was only one vulnerable story. 

I emailed the writer, Cody, to set up a meeting with him and discuss ideas for how I could get the rest of the class excited about writing vulnerable pieces. We met during office hours the day before our next class.

When Cody came into my office, I noticed the way his eyes traveled up and down my body as we shook hands. His hand was firm, and the rest of him was thin and lean.

"So Cody," I said, after we had exchanged pleasantries. "I wanted to say thanks for writing such a vulnerable piece."

"You're good at motivation," he replied, his eyes scanning up and down my body again.

"I wanted to talk to you about that," I said.

I decided that I was going to play with him a little, while we chatted, as a reward. I loosened my tie, and unbottoned the top button on my shirt. His eyes followed my hands, soaking in the extra inch of exposed skin.

"You're the only student in class who wrote anything vulnerable." I continued. "Do you think that my motivational techniques are working for the rest of the class?"

"Most of the other guys don't believe you'll actually commit," Cody replied. "I know there are a few of us who are gay in the class, and once they're convinced it's genuine, I'm sure they'll bring the vulnerability."

"But do you think it'll reach the whole class?" I asked, standing and removing my suit jacket, draping it across the back of the chair. 

"I think so," Cody replied, his eyes trailing my every movement. "I heard the straight guys talking about how funny it would be to have a teacher's dick flopping around the classroom. They might not be as interested, but they definitely are into it for the joke."

I nodded, the mental image of me stark-naked walking around the classroom, flashed into my head. I could feel my dick stiffening, as I imagined it flopping around in front of thirty pairs of male eyes. I had to shake off the mental image of leaning over Cody's desk to help him with his essay. In my imagination, the minute I leaned over, he reached out and wrapped a hand around my penis.

"Is the curiosity enough though?" I aksed.

"I think so," Cody replied. They just need to know that you're committed. Once the clothes start disappearing, you'll be naked in no time."

Cody's eyes settled on my crotch, which had started to tent against my tight suit pants.

"I hope you're right," I replied, while rolling my sleeves up my forearms. "Regardless, I also wanted to call you in here to reward you for being the first writer who risked vulnerability in the class."

Cody's eyes followed the fabric inching up my arms, tracing the lines where skin disappeared behind shirt.

"Reward me?" Cody asked, leaning forward, his eyes flicking back to the tenting at my crotch. 

"Absolutely," I said, pulling my tie off. "I have a few rewards in mind for you, and I'm going to let you choose one."

I could see Cody's jeans stretching across the front, and I knew that he was excited for whatever reward I had in mind.

"You can pick one of the following," I told Cody, unbottoning one more button, revealing a patch of thick, dark chest hair. "You can stand up and take all of my clothes off right now, and we can spend the next fifteen minutes doing whatever you want to do in this office with the door locked."

Cody's hand traveled down to the front of his jeans, where his fingers squeezed his dick over his jeans.

"Or," I continued. "You and I can make an agreement right now, that every meeting you schedule with me will be a clothing free meeting for me. You won't be allowed to touch, but the minute you come into my office, and we lock the door, I will strip completely naked and stay that way for the entire time you're in my office."

Cody ran his fingers up and down the front of his jeans.

"Or your final option is you can come over here, strip me out of all of my clothes, and we can spend three minutes alone together, where we can do anything. Those three minutes will start as soon as my underwear is off. Then, you'll get to put all of my clothes into your backpack, and walk out of here leaving me completely naked in my office for the rest of the day. I'll have to sneak out of my office, through the parking lot, and to my car, totally naked. Then I'll have to drive home naked."

Cody's fingers slid down into the waistband of his jeans. 

"God," Cody said, his hand moving slowly inside his jeans. He trembled a little as he sat their, rubbing his penis inside his jeans. 

I wanted so badly to step across the office and rip his clothes off his body and put him inside my mouth. The minute he chose how my clothes were going to be removed he would find a pair of silky black briefs damp with precum, and he would get to see my penis at full-mast, desperate to be pressed up against him.

"You're serious?" Cody asked, pulling his hand out of his jeans.

A string of precum stretched from his waistband to the spot on the desk where he was resting his hand now. He looked sheepish and wiped it on his shirt.

"You get to choose." I nodded. "One way or another, you're going to leave with a preview of what the rest of the class is in for, if they start writing vulnerably."

Cody closed his eyes for a second, a smile spreading across his face.

"God," he said again. "I'm going to see the hottest professor on campus naked."

He stood up and crossed the room. We were inches apart as he reached up and began unbottoning my shirt. My chest hair led into my abs. In seconds, my shirt had dropped to the floor behind me.

"Time starts when your underwear is off?" Cody asked, grabbing the hem of his own shirt and pulling it up over his head.

He was thin, but the thinness accentuated the tightness of his six-pack and veiny arms. 

"It does." I said, taking in his pale chest and stomach.

"Then I'm not gonna waste a minute," he said, kicking off his shoes, unbottoning his jeans, and pulling his jeans and underwear down to the floor in one swift motion. He stepped quickly out of the heap of his clothing pooled at his feet. He stood naked in front of me, except for his socks. His penis brushed against the front of my suit pants, leaving a trail of precum across my front. 

He peeled his socks off of his feet and pushed me down on top of my desk, leaning over me, naked and dripping precum across my bare chest.

He undressed me slowly. His lips traveled up and down my bare torso, leaving little wet marks up and down my chest and abs. I squirmed in pleasure, aware that the rules enabled him to do this without starting our real time. I was very happy that I had planned this loophole into the rules.

His hands slid over my crotch, and then down my legs to my shoes. He pulled them off and pulled my socks off. Each piece of clothing he pulled away he walked back to his backpack, penis pointing the way across the room, bouncing and dripping across my office.

I watched his penis bounce back to me as he reached for my suit pants, He unbottoned and unzipped them, and slid them slowly, inch-by-inch down my thick, hairy thighs. He moaned with longing as more and more skin came into view. 

After a full minute of his slow sliding, I laid across the top of my desk in nothing but some very damp black silk briefs. He ran his lips up and down my legs. I moaned as his lips reached my underwear.

"I can't believe I'm about to do this," Cody said, climbing onto the desk, his body over mine, his legs squeezing against mine. I shuddered at the ecstasy of his skin touching mine. 

He grabbed the waistband of my briefs with his hands and tore with all the excitement a twenty-one-year-old naked, hard man can muster. They gave way with a loud RIPPPP, and I laid naked across my office desk, my penis pointing directly up toward him.

He knelt over me, one hand holding my hands above my head, the other hand grasping my penis with desperation. I gasped in pleasure as his hand slid up and down my slick cock. 

"God," he sighed again, his tongue sliding down my torso. When he couldn't reach any further, he released my hands, both of his hands grasping around my waist, pulling my penis closer and closer to his mouth, until he had embraced me with the wet warmth of his tongue.

I came as soon as his mouth slid down my shaft. An explosion of pleasure. 

"God," he whispered once more, after he swallowed my load.

I wanted to put him inside my mouth, but he laid down on top of me now, his skin pressed full-bodied against mine.

He started the motion slow, his penis rubbing against my abs, his hips pushing in-out-in-out. I felt his movements, and matched them with my hips pushing against his leaking penis.

I wasn't the only quick-cummer. He let out a loud moan as his body tensed once, twice, three times and his hot cum spilled over my stomach and onto my desk. 

We spent the rest of our three minutes laying on the desktop, arms wrapped around each other, his cum sticky and warm pressed into our stomachs.

At the end of the three minutes he climbed off the desk, wiped his beautiful penis off with some tissues, and quickly redressed.

"You're my favorite teacher," he said, smiling as he zipped his backpack closed with all of the clothing I had brought to campus today. "See you in class."

I laid for another ten minutes across my desk, naked and covered in his cum. My trip home would certainly be an adventure.

[enmstorytime]

A little bit ago, @bashfoolishness posted a story idea and asked a couple writers to give their spin on it. The prompt was about a struggling actor who doesn’t realize that his contract calls for nudity. So as my Valentine’s Day present to all of you, here’s mine:

For 22 years, I had lived on my family’s farm. Coming home from school every day early to feed animals and drive various tractors through the back fields. When I finally graduated, I went to the local community college- my degree would be my ticket out of here. Once I walked across that stage again, I was ready. I packed everything I owned into my truck and drove four hours north to Atlanta. I had found a cheap apartment, gotten hired at an accounting firm, and was ready to start my new life. I thought my luck was really starting to turn around.

I had always been sort of unlucky. I’ve done it all: sat in wet paint, tripped in front of people I like, and fallen more than a dozen times in the cafeteria. So getting into hi-jinks was sort of normal for me. But after a few months in the city with no incidents, I thought that I had maybe left my past behind me.

One day, my roommate came home with flyer asking for extras for the newest Marvel movie. He tried to convince me to go with him, but I waved it off, pretending that I’d be nervous to be filmed. But really, I was just nervous to shake the status quo and mess up my luck. A couple of my coworkers had the same flier, and I’d ignore them too.

But the next Saturday, my roommate woke up with the flu. He could barely get out of bed, so he definitely wasn’t going downtown to film. Which had to be a sign. I fixed him a glass of tea, grabbed his papers, and quietly creeped out of the apartment. I tried to convince myself to back out the whole way there, but soon, I was pulling into the parking lot. Right now, with rent as high as it was, I just couldn’t say no to extra cash.

I signed in, and the poor intern running solely on caffeine didn’t even check my ID- he just stamped my paperwork, asked me to sign the contract, and waved me into the next room. For the next three hours, I did nothing but sit in a conference as the other extras were slowly called out of the room, one by one. Two of my coworkers were there as well, but they’d been called out in the first wave. I wanted to feel annoyed, but at least I was getting paid. Finally, it was my turn. I walked downstairs to a room full of extras, some from my room and a bunch of others that looked like they’d been filming for a while. Over on the right side of the room, half of the men had ripped shirts, flashing enough skin to get my mind moving. But I couldn’t think about that now. Nope.

The same intern from earlier started giving the pitch, talking almost too fast for me to follow along. I was assigned to be in the post-fight scene, which was filming last. All of the fighting had already happened, and I’d be one of the many stunned onlookers stumbling back onto the street.

After another fifteen minutes of waiting, it was finally our group’s turn to get in front of the camera. We were given our instructions again, and the filming began. I was supposed to run out of this building’s lobby, across the sidewalk littered with scrap metal, and into the street to stare at something flying overhead. Pretty easy. Or so I thought. Action was called and I ran out of the doors to see huge pieces of sharp metal all over the sidewalk. I thought I would be running over them, but some of the pieces were taller than I was. During the first few takes, I got into a rhythm- around this trashcan, past two metal pieces, around another one, into the street. But then some of us were moved around because they didn’t want all the extras in blue shirts near each other.

The next take was called and I ran out the door… and straight into some trash. I heard my shirt ripping before I even hit the ground.

Hey, Number 11, are you okay?

I looked down to see if I saw blood, but I couldn’t see any. All I saw was my chest displayed through the ripped fabric. Fuck.

I’m good, but I ripped my shirt.

That’s okay, I actually like it. Run the scene from the top!

I was shocked. I tried to find the director that was shouting out orders, but I couldn’t pick him out from the crew standing in front of us. I assumed that I would be replaced with another extra, but apparently the scene would go on. We filmed two more takes and luckily, I didn’t fall again. My shirt was another story- it was hanging on by just the collar with my entire chest now visible. Those other guys had rips on their shirts, but I basically had more rip than shirt. I was embarrassed, but at least I was in shape from years of farm work.

During the next take, I could tell that my bad luck was back. As I ran out, I somehow stepped on the hanging fabric from my shirt and fell to the ground. I tried to lift myself to my feet, but the leg of my pants had caught on another piece of sharp metal… I was stuck.

I need a PA to help Number 11. All other extras return to the start.

I heard someone running to me and looked up to see a gorgeous man kneeling down behind me. He gave me a quick smile and tried to pull the fabric, but it wouldn’t budge. After a minute, who I assumed to be the director had walked over to us.

I’m sorry sir, but this fabric is stuck in here. How do you want me to rip the pants?

Hmm, maybe at the knee? Or like a whole leg? Wait, lean up for me 11? I want to get a good look at you.

I twisted myself up into a sitting position and looked up. The director apparently liked what he saw. He ran a hand over my chest, and I’m not sure if it was an accident, but his thumb hesitated over my nipple. He lifted my chin so that he could see my face.

What kind of underwear are you wearing?

I was taken aback. Excuse me?

I can unbutton your pants myself to find out.

Fine, I’m uh, wearing briefs.

Are they white?

Yes sir.

Perfect. Sam, cut him out of those pants. It’s gonna be hilarious seeing a random guy running onto the scene in just some briefs.

I tried to voice my hesitation, but the director had already turned on his heel and walked back to the camera rig. I didn’t even have time to turn my protest to Sam before he had pulled out a pair of scissors from his fanny pack and was cutting the fabric along the seam. I tried to stop him, but he was already past my knees and I didn’t want his scissors to veer off course. Within ten seconds, I was now sitting in the middle of the street wearing only my tight, white briefs. I couldn’t even look down- I just stood up, trying to fight back tears.

Sam disappeared as quickly as the director had, so I was left alone to walk back into the lobby with the other extras. None of them said anything to me, but I could see some of them holding in their laughter. One man just had his hands covertly covering his crotch as he stared. I tried to look unfazed, but I was dying inside. Two of my coworkers were probably back upstairs- how would I walk back in there wearing only my underwear? I focused on the scene ahead and how I was going to be super careful not to hit anything or trip this time. I was too focused to even look down at the only clothing I still had on. I didn’t even notice how skilled that Sam was with a pair of scissors. As he cut my pants, he also cut a slit up the side of my briefs on both sides, all the way into the waistband.

From outside, I heard the director shout: Cue the rain. We heard the rain from outside before we could even see it. Once action was called, we ran outside into the pouring rain. I could barely see where I was going, but I was determined to make it into the street without tripping. And I did! What I didn’t realize was that someone else had been right behind me. They grabbed my briefs and pulled into the waistband until it ripped. With the rain coming straight at me, I hadn’t even felt them come off. I only noticed when I heard the laughter erupting around me. I saw every extra looking at me, and I looked down to see myself fully naked.

Rain covered my body, slicking the hair covering my pecs and chest and crotch flat. All of my muscles were glistening in the sun- taut biceps and thighs as large as most people’s torso, all from working in the fields every day for a decade. I realized that with all of the attention, I was beginning to feel myself getting hard. I tried to cover myself with my hand, but there was no point- everyone had already seen. I saw the director walk over, and he had the biggest smirk on his face.

Ok y’all, that’s a wrap. You can head back upstairs to grab your checks and head out. He started to turn around to walk away, but I ran up to him.

What do you mean we’re done? Don’t we need to do another take where I’m not, you know, naked?

I actually think that take went perfectly. The rain framed everything so nicely. Including your fucking hot body. What do you to work out, lift other bodybuilders?

He was laughing to himself now as he shamelessly eyed me up and down, pawing at the crotch of his tight jeans. I ignored all of that and tried to hold my ground.

Well, at least that take won’t make it into the movie at least. You can’t just have some naked guy running around.

Oh no buddy, that’s definitely the shot that I’m going to pick. He had now taken a step towards me, close enough for me to smell his cologne. He had ditched all subtlety now and was openly fondling my fully erect cock as he talked. I planned the whole thing actually. I love putting little Easter eggs into my movies. In the previous shot, one of the bad guys actually runs away with some clothes in his hand joking that he stole them from someone. And that would be you. Once I saw your fuckable body after you tore your shirt, I knew that I had found my man. And the contract you signed earlier today has a clause about nudity in it, so your cock is going to be seen by millions of people. Sorry about that.

I was shocked. He walked away, and I was left standing there alone, hands clutching my cock. Water dripped down from my hair, and I reached my hand to push it back before realizing that I was exposing myself again. But fuck it, I had just signed a contract to get naked in a movie anyway. I dropped my hands to my sides and slowly walked back to the building, unaware of the hundreds of cameras aiming down at me from all directions from the buildings on each side of the street. I knew I shouldn’t have pushed my luck…

[enmstorytime]

Xmas Tales: The Stragglers

By Friday afternoon, campus was like a ghost town. It had been emptying out steadily for days, slowly at first, then real quick all of a sudden by Thursday, as everybody finished up with finals and got on the road home for the holidays as soon as they could. Not Aiden, though. His last final was one of the ones that got pushed back to Friday afternoon, the last of the last, thanks to losing a couple of class days to snow at the end of November. His classmates had been pissed about that, but Aiden hadn’t minded. The gym wasn’t as crowded, lines at the dining hall were shorter, and the halls of the dorms were a lot quieter.

Now, Aiden was one of the last ones, one of the few stragglers left, and he was kind of loving it. He unlocked his dorm room door, tossed his phone and keys on the bed, and took in the sight of the half-empty room with a smile. His roommate had headed home late on Wednesday, and already it was almost like he’d never been there, nothing left of him but the vague imprint of his body on the stripped-down mattress across from Aiden’s bed. It was quiet in here. Quiet on the whole floor, in fact. First real quiet Aiden had experienced in months. For the first time in forever, he had a space of his own, privacy to do as he pleased, and it was almost as good as a vacation.

As soon as those two important words registered - quiet and privacy, Aiden knew what he wanted to do, more than anything. Kind of celebrate the end of finals, the end of semester, a release of the pent-up stress he’d been experiencing lately. His cock started to tingle into wakefulness inside his jeans as he ran his hand over it, feeling it stirring, smiling to himself as he tugged his belt open and kicked off his boots.

He could take his time jerking off now, just lay out on top of the covers, sprawled across his bed, completely naked in the daylight, feeling on his body as he stroked on his cock. He had a pretty nice cock, he thought, and he didn’t get nearly enough chances to admire it lately. There was always that tension in his belly, that risk that his roommate might come through the door at any minute, and catch him with his dick in his hand. Made it hard to really enjoy a good session of alone-time. Not now, though. Now, he didn’t have to stifle his noises, his grunts of pleasure, the soft wet schwick-schwick-schwick of his lubed fist gliding up and down the length of his cock, his lusty moans as he took himself up to the brink, then backed off, tugging on his fat young balls to hold off the wave of his orgasm, so he could build right back up again. Yeah, Aiden thought - now this was luxury.

As he got deeper into his stroke, pinching his stiff nip, feeling up the pump he’d gotten at the gym this morning, luxuriating in the quiet peace, he got to thinking about where else it’d be quiet on the floor. Another place he could really go to town on himself, and not get busted. He grinned to himself, and backed the pace of his hand down to a slow maintenance stroke, tuning his ears to the hall, listening for the sounds of other people. Grinned wider as his ears registered the complete silence.

Yeah bro, he thought. Let’s do it.

Aiden swung his legs off the bed, found his sweats and T-shirt from his workout this morning, then tugged them on, his cock making an obscene tent in his grey sweatpants. He grinned at it in his mirror, tugging on the long, hard arc of it, making it throb some more. Then he grabbed his towel and his shower bag and his keys, and headed down the hall to the bathrooms, letting his cock bulge lead the way, a big wicked smile on his face the whole time.

Keep reading

[enmstorytime]

[Scene]: Remote desert road. Dusty desert and distant mesas in all directions. A lone man walks the highway’s edge.

Time passes. The man hasn’t seen a car for over two hours while he’s walked. Suddenly, the noise of an engine penetrates the silence. It starts far off, but quickly grows closer.

A weathered sedan slows and then pulls over just twenty feet ahead. The man, hoping to soon be a hitchhiker, approaches the car. The passenger window rolls down just several inches, enough to see a square-jawed driver with a 5 o’clock shadow.

[The Hitchhiker]: Am I glad to see you. It’s been hours since I left my car.

[The Driver]: Oh, so you broke down?

The hitchhiker strains to hear through the small opening of the window and leans forward.

[Hitchhiker]: Yeah, I pulled over to take photos, but it wouldn’t restart.

[Driver]: Battery, maybe?

[Hitchhiker]: Sorry, did you say battery? Can you roll this window down any more so I can hear?

The driver lowers the window by just another inch.

[Driver, getting louder]: I wish I could, but I have to be careful. There’s been a highway robber on this stretch of highway for a while.

[Hitchhiker]: What?! Really? Should I be worried?

[Driver]: Maybe. He takes cars.

[Hitchhiker]: Oh no! Did you see my car from the way you came?

[Driver]: I didn’t, but I coulda been looking down changing the radio. I don’t pay a lot attention on this road since it’s always so deserted. Still, all the victims have been carjacked. They think he might pose as a hitchhiker.

[Hitchhiker]: Oh damn. You don’t think that’s me? I swear. My car is just back there. If you drive me I can show you.

[Driver]: Well, that would be a good way to get in my car, wouldn’t it?

[Hitchhiker]: Shit. I wasn’t thinking about that. I swear I’m not a robber. I just need a ride.

[Driver]: I want to believe you, and I do want to help you out, but just want you to understand why I have to take precautions. Do you have an ID I can look at?

[Hitchhiker]: Sure. Right here…

The hitchhiker wipes the sweat of his palms on his jeans and reaches for his pocket. Realizes his wallet isn’t in that pocket and then starts patting his other pockets.

[Hitchhiker]: Damn. I just forgot that I locked it in my car for safekeeping. I just grabbed some cash instead.

[Driver]: Well, that sounds fishy. Why wouldn’t you just grab your ID.

[Hitchhiker]: I know it sounds dumb. I honestly wasn’t thinking.

[Driver]: Well, do you at least have car keys to prove you really have a car out here?

The hitchhiker, now eager to prove himself, grabs keys from his pocket and quickly thrusts them through the small opening at the top of the passenger-side window. His arm stops shortly up his thick forearm and can’t get any farther through the opening. The driver grabs the keys from him and inspects them.

[Driver]: They look like car keys. Don’t really know what I’m looking for I guess. Just trying to be cautious.

He sets the keys down between the seats and keeps talking.

[Driver]: How do I know you aren’t carrying a weapon?

[Hitchhiker]: I’m not. I swear. I just have those keys and some cash. I can give you gas money to drive me. I’ll even throw in a reward for the help.

[Driver]: I don’t want your money. It’s not right to take advantage of a person in need. I just need to be sure you’re safe.

[Hitchhiker]: I’m safe. I don’t have any weapons. See.

The hitchhiker lifts up the bottom of his shirt to show his waist, while spinning around. His trunk is thick, but solid. There’s a layer of padding to his middle, but it doesn’t hang over his belt. It’s clear he mixes sit ups into his beer drinking.

[Driver]: I can see you don’t have anything in your waistband, but some people have holsters under their shirts. Just take off your shirt and give it to me so I can see.

The hitchhiker’s face reddens.

[Hitchhiker]: Um, do I really have to? That seems extreme.

[Driver]: Do you want me to trust you or not. It’s not always safe out here and I gotta protect myself first, you understand?

[Hitchhiker]: Ok, ok. I realize I don’t know what it’s like to live out here with a robber on the lose. How about I just unbutton my shirt and show you.

The hitchhiker begins to unbutton his shirt to show his chest. A tuft of hair comes into view.

[Driver]: The whole thing. Take off the whole shirt and pass it through the window. I don’t want you pulling some sleight of hand and hiding the weapon somewhere in the lining.

[Hitchhiker]: Haha. I don’t even know how to do sleight of hand.

The hitchhiker then realizes the man is serious and quickly concedes. He’s shy about being bare chested on the side of the highway in front of a stranger, but he’s not taking his chances. As he undoes the last button, the sides of his shirt part away from a bulky torso with with substantial pecs. He twists to grab his sleeve behind his back and pull his shirt off his shoulder, which also shows attention and training. As he finally gets his shirt off, he pushes the material through the top of the window and then folds his arms just below his nipples.

The driver grabs the shirt and then begins investigating the seems and sleeves.

[Driver]: I saw this horror movie once where a serial killer hid piano wire in his shirt sleeve. In a flash, he could have it out and around the neck of his victims.

[Hitchhiker]: Sir, I appreciate your concern, but don’t you think you’re being a bit paranoid. It’s clear I don’t have a weapon.

[Driver]: If I was paranoid, I wouldn’t have even stopped in the first place. This highway might see five cars a day. You should be thankful I’m just cautious.

[Hitchhiker]: Ok, ok. I’m really thankful you stopped. Can I have my shirt back now?

The driver finishes inspecting the shirt and lays it on the passenger seat as he starts talking.

[Driver]: Not just yet. You could switch a weapon back to your shirt while I wasn’t looking. Now, I need to check your boots and socks for a knife. Unlace them and pass them through.

The hitchhiker’s expression changes to “You gotta be kidding me,” but he starts to unlace his shoes. After getting one boot off, he passes it through the window, which the driver only lowers enough to get the boot through before raising it again. The driver turns over the boot in his hands, while the hitchhiker unlaces the other. He gets it off and passes that one through as well.

[Driver]: The socks, too.

[Hitchhiker]: This gravel is gonna be hot. Let me just show them to you.

[Driver]: You can handle it for a minute. Give’em here.

The hitchiker peels off his socks and slides them through the opening in the window. He does a little tapdancing from the midday heat of the road, but slows to just alternating feet for moments at a time.

[Hitchhiker]: No knife. Are we good now?

[Driver]: Now, you know that’s not gonna be good enough. While those jeans are plenty tight, there’s still a lot of places to hide something dangerous.

The hitchhiker gulps.

[Hitchhiker]: I might look like a confident guy, but taking my pants off on the side of a public highway is the last thing I wanted to do today.

[Driver]: A fit guy like you being bashful? That’s nonsense. Just slide them through the window like everything else. We’re both men here and I don’t have all day for this back and forth.

The hitchhiker undoes the button on the waist of his jeans and then pauses. His reluctance is palpable as he glances around the remote highway as if another living thing might show up any minute. He unzips and reaches a hand down the front of his pants for a quick adjustment before sliding his pants down his waist and toward his knees. Red briefs become the brightest color in the landscape as he bends down to pull each pant leg off. The driver can’t help but steal a glance at the hitchhikers ample bubble butt as he turns sideways to balance a hand on the car.

Making a slight attempt at folding his jeans, the hitchhiker slides them through the window before clasping his hands over his crotch. This time the driver raises the window nearly closed as he turns out pockets and flips jean legs inside out in his seemingly paranoid search. In the meantime, the hitchhiker wonders how he ended up barefoot in his bright, red briefs on the side of a desert highway. Sweat drips down his chest, following a trail of hair into his waistband. He wonders how he ended up outside a car with his his keys, shoes, and most his clothes on a seat behind a window.

[Hitchhiker, tapping on the glass]: Can I get in now?

[Driver]: The pants are clean, but there’s one last thing I didn’t bring up.

[Hitchhiker]: What else could there possibly be? Take as big of look as you need.

With a sigh, the hitchhiker unclasps his hands and does a slow spin, presenting his stripped-down form to the forever-unsatisfied driver.

[Driver]: Now, those underwear are tight enough to see that you aren’t carrying a weapon. Though, it looks like you got something there that might be mistaken for a weapon.

The hitchhiker’s face goes redder.

[Driver]: It’s just that there was one thing about the highway robber’s description that we still haven’t ruled out. They’ve said he has an identifying tattoo of a shamrock somewhere on his body.

[Hitchhiker]: You can see my body. I don’t have any tattoos.

[Driver]: There’s still some parts of you I haven’t seen and I think we should just rule those out.

[Hitchhiker, deep sigh]: You want me to get all the way naked before I can get in?!

[Driver]: Like I said, we’re both men here and it would be the last thing to make me feel relieved.

Everything in the hitchhiker’s head is screaming this is a bad idea. He doesn’t even like getting naked at the gym, let alone for a guy he just met that he’s trying to get a ride from. Then, he thinks about how this guy has his keys and the rest of his clothes locked in his car. Finally, he lets out a big sigh.

[Hitchhiker]: Why the hell not?

His now sweaty briefs peel slowly from his body as his cock bounces into view. He wads them up and throws them through the window out of frustration. His hand covers his package as he does another slow spin for the driver to show the absence of tattoos.

The driver laughs to himself, whistles, and rolls the window up. Then, he peels out driving down the highway.

[Hitchhiker] What the hell?!

Now naked, the hitchhiker goes into full alert realizing he’s about to be stranded, exposed for the world to see out here. Holding his package in one hand, he runs after the car. His gait is irregular from the heat of the pavement on his bare feet, and his butt bounces in awkward rhythm.

Suddenly, the car stops and then reverses. It rolls back to meet the hitchhiker halfway. The driver is now doubled over in laughter.

[Driver]: You should have seen the look on your face.

[Hitchhiker, relieved, but irritated] Not funny. Can I please get a ride now?

[Driver]: You need to lighten up in life. You got a handsome body there. Nothing to be ashamed of.

The doors unlock and the hitchhiker rushes to get in. His feet are scorching and he’s eager for shade and some air conditioning.

[Driver]: Take a seat. It’s about 20 miles to our destination. You would have been walking for another day this direction.

[Hitchhiker, looking around]: Where are my clothes? Can I get dressed now?

[Driver]: I had to lock them in the trunk through that back seat there. I still don’t know if you had some trick up a sleeve, so I can’t let you have your sleeves just yet.

[Hitchhiker]: You what?! I can’t ride around like this.

[Driver]: Settle down. No one’s out here and I’ve already seen it all. Now, let me get you buckled in.

The driver leans across the hitchhiker to grab the shoulder strap. As he does, his shirt lifts up and the hitchhiker gets a view of the driver’s lower back. What he sees stops him dead in his tracks. There, just above his left butt cheek, is a shamrock tattoo.

[enmstorytime]

Mistaken Identity for Bashfoolishness

It’s been too long! I’ve missed you all and writing stories! I’ve got a few delicious fantasies in the works for you all, but first I have long owed @bashfoolishness​​ a story in response to their prompt:

Our protagonist needs some extra money and he’s eager to break into movies. His roommate garnered a role as an extra for a mysterious indie film, but is too busy to make the shooting days. Our protagonist offers to fill in by posing as his roommate. What his roommate forgets to tell him is that the contract he already signed includes some stipulations on showing skin, something our protagonist doesn’t learn until he’s on set and the cameras start rolling. Complaining now could risk blowing his cover, but how far will this go?

Jackson pressed his palms against his jeans to wipe the sweat off onto his thighs. He was sure that at any second the casting director was going to figure out that he wasn’t Troy Grafton and he had no business being on that film set. As it was, he knew he was in trouble with the real Troy Grafton – his housemate – as he thought he was just standing in for him as an extra but when he’d turned up they’d said he fit the profile for a more significant character! He had offered to take Troy’s place on this set so he could go to an audition for a bigger part so how’s that for odds? Jackson was also an aspiring actor, but he knew he didn’t quite have the chops as much as he had the looks – you had to if you wanted to make it in Hollywood! Nonetheless, here he was waiting for instructions from the producer.

“Alright, Billy, Kevin, Jesse and Leonard to wardrobe pronto!” the short, spunky woman barked in the direction of Jackson and four other guys he’d been grouped with. He flinched in recognition: Leonard was the character they were getting him to play, but he had no idea who the character was or even what the film was about! He trotted off after the others to some racks under a tent.

“OK fellas, strip down and we’ll get you trying on these” said the wardrobe staffer who slammed a box of party-type costumes on a table. Jackson looked around and saw the other guys dropping trousers and pulling off shirts, so he followed suit. As he was leant over bare-chested to unbutton his jeans and drag down the zip and wondering what costume he’d be given, his eyes widened as he unlaced his shoes and remembered what underwear he’d hurriedly threw on this morning when Troy had agreed to send him along to the audition in his place, and even then only because they did look rather similar: both just shy of 6 foot, well-built but toned so as not to look too intense, jet-black floppy hair and blue-grey eyes. Pulling off his socks Jackson’s horror grew as he realised he’d soon be standing in a group of dudes wearing his tiny leopard-print briefs he’d bought for going out to underwear parties in. They were a semi-sheer fabric, not enough that you could see everything but if you looked close enough…there was nothing for it, he’d have to hope the other guys wouldn’t dig into him too much!

As Jackson stepped out of his jeans and took a clown costume from the staffer hoping to get it on before anyone noticed his panty-looking briefs, a large cheer came from behind him: the producer had come back! “Oh wow, hot knickers big guy! Oh there’s no way you can wear those and not have the Tarzan costume!”. Jackson looked at the other actors, whose eyes were all on his package bulging against the leopard-print. One of them held a small clump of tan fabric and with a shrug and a wink threw it toward Jackson who had to drop his clown costume to catch it. He felt very exposed with everyone watching him try and arrange the costume into something that covered him decently. Eventually the wardrobe person stepped in and pulled one end of the fabric between his legs, used some strings attached to secure around his waist for the fabric to flap over, then tugged another part loose to wrapped the rest around his midsection and then over his shoulder like a sash. “Perfect! Now let’s get the rest of you to stop gaping and get dressed! We’ve got a scene to shoot!” The other actors hurriedly threw their costumes on. Helpfully, one of them introduced himself to Jackson, “hey man, I’m Sam, I play Billy, so the scene is a few bros getting into mischief at a Halloween Party, so that’s what the whole costume thing is about”. Jackson looked around and observed a Clown, a Fireman and an Elf and laughed, although noticing he was in the most revealing outfit.

The first sequence to shoot was the group walking down the street. Jackson didn’t have any specific lines expect to guffaw and agree with the main dialogue. Aside from the odd tree or bit of fence catching on his loincloth, everything went well and before long Jackson felt at ease. Once the setup scene was shot, they had a scene where they were all in an uber. The four big boys squeezed into the producer’s car being used for the shoot and there was some chat filmed inside, and then they were to film a shot of them all getting out and walking into a party. When the director called “ACTION!” the actors stepped out of the car with Jackson last, but because they each needed to be in the shot, they all stood directly outside the car looking at the house, leaving Jackson to squeeze out and shut the door. He didn’t realise that the door had caught on a chunk of the sash and when the car drove away, a loud tearing sound echoed on set as a long strip of the sash was tugged and torn off! As he felt it disappearing over his nipple, Jackson was scared it’d strip him entirely of the costume, but thankfully it snapped off entirely at the waist leaving his torso and loincloth intact, just both of his pecs were on show. “CUT!” called the director who then darted over beaming a huge smile. “I love it! Hilarious comedy and a great way to give the fourth-guy that bit more character! I reckon we’re going to keep going with this, what do you say?!”

Jackson blinked. What did he mean keep going? Keep him with his chest out or keep stripping him? He didn’t want to ask! The director sensed his hesitation. “Look we don’t have to do it if you don’t want, although I know it’ll be in your contract that you were comfortable with nudity on set – we only hired actors who signed off on that – do you want me to check it?” Jackson paled. If they got the contract, they’d see the real Troy’s headshot and work out they’d been duped. “No! No need! Yeah look I’m cool, let’s do it!” Jackson almost shouted, wondering what he’d got himself in for. The director smiled and clapped Jackson on the back as he darted over and chatted with the producers who then paced over to other parts of the set. After a few minutes, the director came back over, “alright, Troy, is it? So we’re going to set a few things up inside and I just want you to keep doing what you’re doing, don’t look prepared for stuff and we’ll see how we go!”. Jackson swallowed hard and nodded.

As they filmed entering the party, a young woman playing the hostess bounced over to them, “Boys!! You came!! So good to have you, shoes off!”. All four actors kicked off their shoes into a pile near the door while cameras raced around them. Take after take took place in the party scene, some Jackson was needed for, some where he wasn’t. In one scene he was in the background dancing and as the main character was chatting with an actor in a cheerleader costume, the focus changed and they turned to look at him at which point another actor grabbed at the band of fabric over his stomach and pulled the fabric which came off him as he spun away, eventually tearing to separate from the loincloth section. He laughed and the director called a cut. Jackson now wandered about the party in just a loincloth secured by strings on either side of his hips and his briefs under that.

Then came a scene where he was directed to bring beers to a few of the other actors. He had both hands full and when he wen to step outside into the pool area, two other partygoers came up to him and said “let us help you with that!” and with that, each reached down on either side of him to pull the knots free and brandish them over their heads and Jackson’s loincloth slipped down between his bare feet! A big cheer went up and one of the string-pullers pushed him to his friends who took the beers, leaving him to try and cover himself up from the cameras all over the place. Jackson hoped that would be the climactic part of his undressing and the end of his ordeal, but then the director came up and spoke to him. He felt all the air go out of his lungs, but he couldn’t deny that the experience so far had been thrilling and exciting. Something he thought he might turn his mind toward late at night tugging on his cock.

The last sequence of the night was when the police came to bust up the party and all of the boys make a quick escape. Each boy had a camera on them to trace their individual journey from where they were in the party until the shots converged at the entrance. Jackson went last. The director would call “ACTION” and Jackson had to run toward a camera operator who was running backwards with another operator leading their back. The call was made and Jackson ran, the camera capturing every muscle bounding bare feet, bare legs, bare chest, bare stomach, bare arms, racing for the exit. Unlike the other actors, Jackson had to really run because he needed the momentum and the other shot speeds would be based off his. He ran full tilt down a hallway, down stairs, and as he raced toward the door with the other actors darting ahead of him, the actors playing police came up behind him and as he leaped through the door, a policeman reached out, grabbed his underwear and with an almighty RIP they were pulled clean off his body, leaving him naked on the street with four cameras rolling over his exposed everything as he threw his hands over his dick and kept running with the other actors until the director called “CUT!”

The director walked up to Jackson after reviewing the footage. “Troy, I think with you on board, we have a sequel! After this movie comes out, everyone is going to know the name of Troy Grafton!”

FUCK!

……..

to be continued? or do you want something fresh and new? maybe the night is only beginning for the naked Jackson and his hot co-stars? hopefully Bashfoolishness drops a new prompt! Otherwise something from the vault is on its way - and Part 2 of Dive In!