A basketball court.

I got arrogant, I got cocky, and now I have to pay the price for my pride.

It started off innocently enough. A friendly free throw competition after the practice when the men's and women's teams would train on side by side courts at the small Division III college I attend. As a life time 91.6% shooter I always won, even against the guys, which only fed by arrogance.

I started to boastfully proclaim that no one could beat me. I would spot my challengers two, three or even five points, and still easily win. Soon monetary wagers were part of the game and I started to make some good cash. Eventually, what seem liked the whole school, wanted a crack at me, I defeated them all and took their money with much gloating. Even my sorority sisters started to give me a hard time about my notoriety. During a pledge party, when I was accused of being a greedy attention whore, I told my detractors they were just jealous because I was pretty and had big tits. After some further trash talk, aided by a few too many drinks, I boldly stated I could beat anyone, any way, and that I would accept any wager, even all the clothes off my back. Thus the plan for my humiliation would later be testified by numerous witnesses as being one of my own creation. The next day a group of those whom I berated at the party, and/or had humbled on the court, joined together for my ruin; and they knew my weakness.

A week later I met a cute guy, who was rich and in great shape. When he asked me out on a date, I readily agreed. My sorority sisters, to my surprise, all became quite excited by the news of this glamorous date, and encouraged me to go all out for the special night. One let me borrow a lose fitting white silk blouse, another a tight black skirt from some French designer. Of course I had to wear my raciest underwear underneath to go with such an outfit.

On the big night, my date said he had a special surprise for me at the gym. I was curious, and as we walked I quizzed him. With growing concern he told me he was a visiting student from a Division II school and that he played basketball. As we entered the gym he revealed that he was the brother of one of my sorority sisters I had mocked for having small breasts. Before I could think I was greeted by a large mob of students that I had offended, either by my words, or by taking their money. My supposed date immediately challenged me to free throw contest; I would get a thousand dollars if I won, but if I lost, then I had to get naked. Even with such a large cash prize, I tried to back out, knowing that how I was dressed would make any athletic endeavor difficult, but the mob would have none of it. My own words were thrown back at me, I had but to agree. Playing against this ringer, with a hostile crowd rooting against my every shot, was bad enough, but the tight skirt, high heels and the fact that my breasts bounced all over the place from the lack of a sports bra, meant I didn't have a chance.

I lost and I lost badly.

Now I stand at center court, the crowd gathered around me like vultures to witness and enjoy my comeuppance. Mercilessly they laugh at me, delighting in my defeat and the price I now have to pay. They all begin to chant, “Lo...ser strips! Lo...ser strips! Lo...ser strips!” Half the mob claps out each syllable, while the other half raises their camera cell phones high to record every moment and angle of my disgrace.

As the French skirt hits the floor the wolf whistles and cat calls pour down on me. Next is my blouse. Out loud and in unison they count down every button I undo and then erupt into cheers as I open wide the lapels, presenting the skimpy bra and high cut thong I wore underneath for everyone's inspection.

“This isn't fair.” I mutter to myself, as the blouse joins the skirt at my feet to the new chant of “Take it off! Take it off! Take it off!” With a humiliated sigh, even I have to recognize the opposite is true, that what I am about to endure, I have so richly and deservedly earned. I take hold of the front of my bra and undo the clasp.