Prologue

It was still night when Marion woke up. She was curled up in her sheets, shifting just enough to peer curiously at her alarm. Still early. She sighed, closing her eyes again and trying to sleep.

She let her mind wander. She wanted to get back to writing tomorrow; Amazon publishing wasn’t exactly the most lucrative of opportunities, but a steady supply of short stories usually managed enough small purchases for her to keep going.

Admittedly there were better times to dwell on ideas than when she was trying to sleep; more often than not, if she did so it just ended up shaping her dreams. Maybe it was ironic that a woman who enjoyed writing ENF could so easily be flustered by dreaming it, but if nothing else it had helped inspire her. It wasn’t so bad when she could just wake up.

Ooh, dreams, maybe she could do something with that. A story starring a woman who could dream the future, imagining some situation that ended in her exposure, and trying futilely, of course) to try and change it… Hmm.

Marion reached out for her phone, meaning to take a note. Someone handed it to her. She mumbled something, half-asleep, and had unlocked her phone by the time she jerked up.

Wait! Who was in her room?! Her eyes opened, and she fumbled for a light. The lamp lit up.

There was another woman standing over her bed, long red hair cascading down to bare shoulders. Marion blinked. It took a long few moments for her sleep-addled mind to process her situation.

There was a naked woman in her room.

Marion cried out, and rolled over, away from the stranger; something in the back of her mind found the woman familiar, but she wasn’t in the position to dwell on that just then.

She crashed into someone. Marion scrambled up, extricating her arms from the sheets, hand brushing past bare skin on her other side; as she finished, turning, she took in the sight of another naked woman, golden-skinned with long, long dark hair.

Panicking, Marion scrambled, trying to sit up in her bed; there was a redhead standing to her right, another woman sitting on her bed to her left, and as she sat up to see the rest of the room, she suddenly realised she was very far from alone.

They were crowding around her bed, filling her room. All women, all naked; Marion was about to scream, or to run in a panic to try and get to her phone and call 911, when she suddenly realized why the redhead seemed so familiar. Why they all seemed so familiar.

It was a tattoo that did it; a short, dark-haired women by the foot of her bed glowering at her, with an arm covering up her breasts and pushing them up, creasing a spot on her cleavage where a garishly colored, out-of-place mermaid tattoo was resting. She knew, even with the woman’s arm there, that there would also be silver piercings through each nipple.

She looked exactly like Marion had pictured her. But she wasn’t real, that was the whole point.

Still, she looked so much like Roxy, the protagonist of one of her stories; she’d been in one of her earlier tales, her piercings triggering the metal detector at an airport leading to her being stripped down in front of the whole queue, friends included. Every tattoo on her body, including those she was embarrassed by, bared completely. ‘Goth stripped at airport!’ or some similar, upfront title.

Marion’s scream died in her throat.

“This is a dream,” Marion said to herself. It had to be a dream.

None of these people were real. Sure, she’d based a couple of people on models she’d found, but there were always tweaks, small changes; none of these people were those models. They were exactly as they imagined her characters.

Roxy, the early-twenties goth girl who’d revealed every stray piercing and tattoo to her friends and strangers at the airport. Ashley, the redheaded star of, suitably enough ‘Nude Redhead at the Gym!’ whose rather fit body had been shown off to so, so many people. And on her bed, Layla, co-star of ‘Nude College 2,’ who’d had a very awkward semester after her scholarship came with a few unexpected rules.

Among others. So many others. Every one of them was naked, and none of them looked happy.

“Afraid not.”

Another of the crowd stepped forward. She crossed her arms, but that was all, neglecting any cover of her lower half in an effort to look more intimidating. A messy pixie cut of dark hair, violet eyeshadow, tall, toned – Marion instantly knew her too. She’d written a short series chronicling the exploits of an all-female superhero team with a variety of abilities. Liz there had special abilities (strength and invulnerability, the usual) that surfaced only when she was totally naked.

Her breasts spilled out just slightly over the top of her arms, and Marion’s eyes darted from them, to Liz’s glower, then back again. Marion gulped.

“But you’re not real,” Marion said. “None of you are.”

“So?” Ashley said.

Marion’s gaze quickly went sideways to the redhead. A blush filled Ashley’s cheeks.

“I had to go to class naked!” Layla yelped, making Marion’s eyes turn to her other side. Layle fidgeted. “Do you know how embarrassing that was?! It was your fault!”

Apparently she just couldn’t keep it in any more. Marion swallowed, nervously shuffling higher in her bed, and away from Layla.

“At least it was just a few months for you,” muttered Ruva, star of ‘Naked Among the Amazons,’ who’d spent a rather long couple of years blending in with a nudist tribe. She adjusted her long hair, holding it over her chest to try and cover up.

“At least your family didn’t see you,” added Mel, star of ‘Help! My Family Thinks I’m A Nudist!’

“I think we all have problems,” Liz said. “We don’t need to compete.”

Marion swallowed. Dozens of blushing faces stared back at her.

“We came to an agreement,” Ashley said.

“We can agree on that much,” said another. She was plainer looking, but even if her appearance wasn’t familiar, the way her chest moved as if held by unseen hands identified her as Jenny, star of ‘Haunted House ENF 3.’ She squeaked. “Seriously! What’s the big idea?!”

“You exposed all of us,” Liz said. “All of all of us. Not always for the same amount of time, not to the same people, and not always with the same things happening, but that isn’t what matters.”

“Though it’s part of it!” Gemma interjected, the co-star of ‘Nude World Order.’ “I’m going to have to spend my whole life like this!”

“Right, right,” Liz said. “But the fact is, we all have the same issue, we’re all naked and it’s her fault.”

Marion looked around the room. Surprisingly, sheer bafflement was starting to outweigh any panic she felt. It was an indescribable experience, seeing so many familiar, impossible faces. She’d never seen any of them for real, but she could identify each of them easily. Some freshly eighteen, some older, a mix of skin-tones, hair colors, builds, some with tattoos and piercings and others utterly unmarked, some with shoes or jewellery and others utterly bare…

The variety born of years of writing one specific genre. It was…

Well, you couldn’t spend so long writing women being stripped and end up entirely straight, so there were definitely some upsides to her predicament. Marion was also rather aware that showing that reaction would likely not help her situation.

“I’m, um, sorry?” Marion said.

She didn’t know if it would help. Just, being at the centre of that much judgement made her want to say something.

“Yeah, like, no way is that good enough,” said Erin, star of ‘Blonde Streaks Home,’ the tale of a somewhat gullible woman who’d been talked out of her clothes.

“Absolutely not,” Layla said. She was still sat on the side of Marion’s bed; in one motion, she pulled wrenching the duvet off of Marion’s body.

Marion didn’t sleep in much, just a loose shirt and panties. She suddenly pulled her legs up, wanting them to cover as little of the bed as possible. Unsurprisingly, she was rather outnumbered by the crowd of naked women.

Ashley helped pin her down; Liz grabbed her panties to yank them down, and Layla helped wrestle with Marion’s shirt. Marion squirmed, yelping.

“It’s simple,” a new voice said. Marion glimpsed the speaker through the mass of naked flesh and squealed.

Winna had been the star of a bit of an experiment; after all, you couldn’t write the same genre for years without wanting to try new things. Sure, there were the times she’d thrown in a few other kinks (as the particularly red faces in the crowd attested), and times she’d bent the genre, but in with that there were attempts to tell the same story from different perspectives.

Winna’s series, ‘ENF Confessions – Exposing One’s Enemies,’ had been just that, telling the story of a woman who arranged events so that other women in her life would end up nude somewhere public. Anyone from a romantic rival, to a competitor for a promotion, to family, to just some stranger that had mildly annoyed her.

Though lest Marion think she might be willing to take mercy on her, there had been more than a few stories where Winna’s plans had backfired. Dirty-blonde, shoulder-length hair, fairly small breasts, long legs, tanned skin, and an always-perfect face of make-up with ruby-red lips.

And if she was involved and these were really, somehow, her characters, Marion knew what was coming next.

“You’re going to experience what you made us go through,” Winna said. “Every one of us. Every story, every embarrassing, humiliating moment. And when we’re done… well, we’ve got plenty of time before we have to worry about that.”

Winna smiled. Marion bit her lip as the women moved back from her, taking her clothes with her. (And, just to add insult to injury, one departing hand left her with a pinch to her nipple, ostensibly to make it extra clear she wasn’t dreaming).

Marion flailed for a second, first reaching for her clothes, then pulling back as she realized what she was baring, then rolling over to bring a pillow from behind her into position, clutching it in front of her. She wrapped her legs around it and hugged it to her chest, red-faced.

Somehow she knew that being naked in her room, to mere dozens of people, was easily the most minor embarrassing experience out of everyone in there. It still made her cheeks burn.

“We can talk about this,” Marion tried.

“I think you’ve done enough with your words,” Liz said. “The question is, which one of us is going to go first. Which of your stories do you want to live out?”

Liz smiled, Winna ogled, and countless more naked women stared, eager to see Marion live out the humiliations she’d penned. Flustered, Marion looked all around her.