True to her perverted words; Charlotte barely did anything.

You, with a towel wrapped snug around your waist, cautiously make your way back to the locker which you, in your folly, left unlocked. Checking inside to see the damage, you're pleasantly surprised… or perhaps you're relieved? Pedantics. You'd seen what Charlotte was capable of,—boys running naked through the halls, or handcuffed in their underwear, humiliated by her dirty machinations—and this was nothing.

The only two noticeable alterations she made to your Pep outfit are; the shorts are slightly shorter, and your boxers are missing, having been replaced by a lacy black thong— Charlotte's favorite piece of men's clothing.

Giving your surroundings a cursory look-over to check for anything else that pervert might've left here to get you, and finding nothing, you drop the towel, then grab the racy underwear left in your locker.

A grimace overtakes your features as you pull the thong up to your crotch, and feel it tickle and squeeze your genitals in all the wrong—and right—ways. The sensation of its narrow back sinking into your ass gives you pause; it was the skimpiest undergarment you'd ever tried on in your life, and you knew you would simply die of embarrassment if anybody saw you wearing it.

Especially if that anybody was Denise.

Shaking the thought of something that humiliating from your mind, you don the rest of the Pep uniform, and trying to ignore the wedgie the thong permanently drives into your ass, you walk out, only to find Pearl—the straight one—lurking just outside the boys locker room.

Realizing she must've seen you in some embarrassing state of undresss, you shout, while blushing, "Pearl! Were you watching me change!?"

The freckled cowgirl simply says, "Denise wasn't yankin' my chain when she told me you looked good shirtless."

How much did she get to see? Please don't say it was everything. You couldn't handle the thought of her telling the entire basketball team what you looked like naked.

"Just wish I coulda gotten here before you put your shorts on…"

Oh thank god. Somehow, you're glad you made it through a shower with only one girl getting an eyeful of your ass. That was supposed to be normal, but you're grateful it wasn't worse.

"So what is it, Sam? Boxers or briefs?" Asks the six-foot athlete currently attempting to see through your clothing.

"You're the worst Pearl!" You say to the peeping Jane as you rush to rehearsal, reddening under her leers, and hoping against hope your bandmates weren't done practicing yet.