The beginning of her story...

Bree stood outside the door of her high school, her hand trembling slightly as she contemplated backing out of this whole idea, of just going home and leaving this foolish desire behind. She'd dreamed of "losing" her clothes for years, of hiding her lack of attire while trying to get back to her clothes, and had reveled in the excitement she felt. She knew she didn't want to be caught, couldn't afford the hit to her status, and that alone had kept her from trying to fulfill her fantasy. But it hadn't been enough. She had to try it, had to see what it felt like. That was what had brought her here this night, when no one but the older, friendly, but admittedly lazy night guard would be the only person here.

Her gaze dropped to her trembling hand, holding the key to the school she had finangled the staff into letting her carry. It would let her into the main building, the annex that had been built to hold extra history and English classes, and the large gymnasium that had been recently built for the basketball and volleyball teams. The reasoning she'd used was fuzzy, and even she couldn't remember it clearly, but she'd managed it, and that was what mattered. She'd dressed like it was just another day at school, though it was 11pm now. Her B-cup breasts were snugly held by a simple white bra, a tight, thin, white T-shirt over it. A matching pair of white panties and a tight pair of low-rider jeans covered her athletic legs and taut ass, and a pair of black flats adorned her otherwise bare feet. As she reached for the door lock with a shaking hand, her mind wandered back a month, to the event that had finally pushed her over the edge.

It had been an otherwise normal day at high school for her, up until lunch. She'd been sitting with a few of her friends in the hall, her legs stretched out in front of her, enjoying her lunch and the usual light banter about guys. Trevor, the school football team star running back, a genuine jackass she disliked in spite of how hot he was, had snatched her flats off her feet as the bell rang, signalling the end of lunch. Caught by surprise, she'd only been able to let out a shriek of frustration as he took off into the mass of students trying to get to class. She'd promptly pulled her legs under her, bare toes pressed to the cool tile floor, and knelt on her heels to attempt to hide her sudden shoeless state. Her friends had giggled at her, then assured her she'd get her shoes back before the end of the day, before heading to their classes. Bree, having lost Trevor in the crowd almost immediately, had been **** to go to the rest of her classes barefoot that day, only getting her flats back from Trevor after school.

During those few stressful periods, she'd done her best to hide her shoeless state, her face permanently flushed a faint shade of red. It wasn't that she was ashamed of her feet. They were nicely shaped, not too big or small, and she kept them well-pampered. What had gotten her was her sense of propriety. She'd been raised to be a proper young lady, who was always dressed and composed when in public, who obeyed the dress code of whatever facility she was in. Those three hours, ones in which she was absolutely certain everyone could hear the faint slap of her bare soles against the cool tile hallways, or notice the contrast between her tanned feet and the dark, scratchy carpets of the classroom, had been pure ****. She'd managed to hide it from just about everyone, though, most importantly all of her teachers. Later that night, the dreams of "losing" more, of hiding her shameful state while trying to get it all back, had come out with a vengeance. Mixed with her relative success at hiding something so simple, yet so obvious, she'd masturbated furiously, enjoying no less than three toe-curling orgasms before finally falling asleep that night.

The latch of the door clicked shut behind her, the faint sound seeming to echo in the almost deserted building, and she stood in one of the side hallways of her school, the math and science classes and labs stretching into the gloomy darkness of the barely-lit hallway. That one event had given her the courage to go through with this, something seemingly small and innocuous, but more than enough to convince her that she needed to try it in a relatively controlled environment. She knew that, after tonight, she'd be doing this more often, and eventually in much riskier circumstances. Tonight, though, was about finding places to stash her clothes, places she could try to get back to throughout the course of a day, all with the inherent risk of getting caught. To be safe, she'd stashed an old hoodie and pair of shorts in her gym locker, in case Mr. Weatherby caught on to her presence, and she needed to make a quick escape.

Her plan was simple. As she found spots in the buildings, she'd leave an article of clothing there, and move on until she found more. When she was finally naked, she'd retrieve her clothes in the order she'd removed them.

She'd picked her first spot earlier that day, and she started towards it, a determined look on her face, the faint clack of her flats against the tile sounding like gunshots in the otherwise silent school.