The End of Blanke Schande

Keisha rushed in from the outside, hugging herself, toes encrusted with snow, and could hardly wait as she stood beneath the shower right next to Lisa -- BSC girls tended to shower right next to each other when possible -- and then felt the blessed warmish water coursing over her cornrows and then over her bountiful dark brown curves and her half-frozen feet.

Colleen Reilly, the Associate Professor of English, walked nakedly by with a bookbag over her shoulder, being waved at by everyone. "Hi Col!" Most of the students called her by her first name. Her red hair and freckled breasts bouncing, she padded happily past the showers and into the bookstore. 32 years old and in her third year at BSC, she was one of the female professors who went around naked in solidarity with the female students. She had been at Alturas only one year and had scurried around between buildings at first, but was not too proud to do the five-minute chill under student supervision and had now mastered the BSC-Alturas skill of sauntering slowly through the snow on relaxed bare feet as if not bothered by the cold at all.

Professor Tereshkova clip-clopped by in her boots and acknowledged the two showering girls. Keisha, passing soap over her tummy, called for her. "Ms. Tereshkova," she said, "this shower isn't hot, it's just warm. It's winter, you know." She brought this up because Tereshkova was in charge of all female nudity adaptations, not only the erotocize classes but the outdoor toilets (i.e., "freshening facilities"), showers, and removing doors from the girls' dorm rooms.

"Is intentional, Keishyanova," she said in her Russian accent, distinctive for being affectionate and firm at the same time. "During vinter is no need for hot, makes you sweat too much. New policy, is good for you. All girl showers are now max 20 degrees. For you, that's 68 degrees in Fahrenheit."

Lisa and Keisha stood still, surrounded by Landau and Tereshkova and Corey, water coursing over their nude bodies, jumping off their nipples, arms at their sides with mouths open in protest. "You -- can't. It's too cold," Lisa said.

"Tell me -- do you feel cold now?"

Lisa and Keisha looked at each other. Then they looked behind them. This little scene had drawn a crowd, looking at the water coursing down their bare backsides. Lisa looked down at the four wet bare feet and then looked up and said, "Well, no, but -- "

"Perhaps we should turn down the heat in the classes too. Or the dorms. Too much heat is bad -- your body must adjust to being a tiny bit chilly, it's better that way. Otherwise you vill sweat and then not sweat and then sweat again."

The girls already had gotten a taste of this, in Professor Donelson's Developmental Psychology class last month, a little class of nine students which happened to be the only class (aside from erotocize) with no guys. The day had been bitterly cold, practically down to zero, and the girls had zipped around campus like lightning. The class had gone normally if a bit boringly, Donelson not being the most exciting lecturer in the world. That he was wearing a heavy sweater went without notice until Tereshkova came in at the end, with the same question. "Are you girls cold?" They all shrugged, no. "Well we turned down the temperature in here. During this whole time it's been" -- she looked at the thermostat -- "15 degrees. That's by your Fahrenheit, 59 degrees." The girls were amazed.

For now, though, Lisa and Keisha were pissed. They always looked forward to the hot, hot water after freezing their butts off, and did not like it being taken away from them. They stood motionless in the middle of the crowd, looking at Tereshkova walking away, before resuming their soaping up and rinsing off.

It was Erendira, the Mexican girl with the beautiful face and the gigantic chocolate nipples, who brought up the big secret at supper.

They were sitting around at their favorite table, Erendira, Sara, Lisa, Shelly, Corey, Keisha, Ahmad, Wendy, Hank, Naomi, Tommy. Erendira was going through a microbikini catalog and discussing possibilites with Sara. It was a frequent activity of BSC girls who wanted to be as naked as possible during the breaks but couldn't, or wouldn't, commit to being "Absolutes". Erendira was pointing to an unusual "suit", a one-piece that consisted of a single string going into the crotch, coming up on the other side, then up to a ringed string around the neck and splitting in front into two strings that went to little circles that clipped onto and covered the nipples.

"I couldn't wear that, I hate thongs," Sara said, pushing her tray away and resting her huge breasts on the table. "I feel like I'm sitting on a cheese slicer."

"That's how you get as close to naked as possible," Erendira said. "At my high school almost all the girls wore thongs. I got used to them."

"I'd rather design my own," Sara said, and she did. Some of the girls were endlessly inventive and shared their designs for various strings and slings that covered the "legal minimum".

"You couldn't wear that in Bakersfield," Lisa said, referring to Sara's home town. Lisa and Wendy had been collecting local ordinances regarding what was considered indecent exposure. They had most of the big cities in California and many towns; they had even gotten college credit for their efforts, which were on file at the library.

At the main campus, with a lot more girls, there was more of a "scene" as to planning non-semester wear. There was even a newsletter devoted to passing around designs. The college was aware of the possibly perverse motivation for this inventiveness -- it might merely spring from a desire to wear clothes, no matter now minimal -- but it was tolerated. A related activity at the main campus, though possibly with the opposite motivation at heart, was what had become known as "Bobbins" -- as in, "are you a Bobbin?" The idea was to plan to "wear", during college breaks, the most ridiculous objects so as to cover the "legally necessary" body parts. The name started when one girl thought up the idea of gluing sewing machine bobbins onto her nipples. Other innovations were wine corks to cover the vaginal opening, scotch tape used as a thong, and bras made of twine onto which potholders had been sewed. The idea was to show how ridiculous it was to require certain body parts to be covered -- anything at all would do, so why not have fun with it? There were even rumors of parties at the main campus where girls would wear these things, a clear violation of BSC policy, but it sounded like a lot of fun.

It was when the microbikini catalog had been put away and everyone was sipping coffee, that Erendira leaned forward and decided to tell what she knew. "Muy secreto, don't tell," she said. "I hear from the admissions office that this September they're going to accept a girl from Egypt who is allergic to clothes!"

"What? Allergic to clothes!"

"You're pulling my leg!" Hank said. "Come on! How could she live?"

"Not very well, from what I understand," Erendira said. "They don't know if it's psychological or physical. Fortunately her family's rich and she has a big property to hide on. But she hasn't been able to wear anything since she was 14, not even panties."

Everyone sat silently, thinking of this strange girl and what her life must be like. "In an Islamic country," Corey said, "that must be rough, with women having to cover up."

"Not so much Egypt, from what I understand, it's a pretty secular country. But still . . ."

"What's her name?"

"Basji. Very sweet girl, very shy. She doesn't want to come here, she doesn't want to be naked, but it's the only place she can go to college. Her family wants the best for her."

"I imagine so!" Ahmad said. "She must suffer very much."

"Si, she hates being naked, but that's her life."

"Shades of Tami," Lisa said. The other girls nodded immediately.

"This is amazing," Corey said. He looked down, thinking. "When she comes here we have to be super-supportive."

"Which reminds me," Lisa said, suddenly inspired. To the groans of some she once again got out her folder with the petition. "Whoa, Tommy," Corey said. Tommy's name was on it, recently added, making a total now of 15 names, 25% of the Alturas student body. Tommy smiled and shrugged.

"I think we should all greet her and throw a welcoming party for her naked," Lisa said.

"Um, we already ARE naked," Keisha said.

"I mean ALL of us."

The guys looked at each other and then at Lisa. "I'm in!" Tommy piped up cheerfully.

"Uh . . . uh . . . " Corey and Hank and Ahmad didn't know what to do. Corey cleared his throat and decided to be brave. "I'm in," he said, raising his hand.

Hank and Ahmad slowly raised their hands too.

Lisa showed them the petition. Hank and Ahmad both looked at her as if to say, "Don't push us too far!" But Corey grabbed the pen attached to the side and scribbled his name right after Tommy's. Leading to a big mushy kiss from his girlfriend.

"O.K. now," Naomi said. "We're in the dining hall. You can get romantic later."

"This isn't Jane and Janeane time, is it?" Wendy said. Eyes rolled all around the table. The two lesbian lovers were at a small table across the dining hall and Hank and Lisa looked back at them discreetly. Sure enough, while they were eating Janeane was inserting her big toe under the table into Jane's pussy and, judging from Jane's half-closed eyes, diddling her clit too. Ostensibly trying to hide it but it was obvious to anyone with this angle view.

Sandy came back from the fruit bar with a pear and a banana and a smile.

"You wouldn't dare," Keisha said playfully.

"Oh wouldn't I," the 35-year old long-time nudist said. She handed the pear to Lisa. Both looked over at the little desk at the top of the stairs; Mrs. Magnuson's attention was elsewhere.

Corey thought it was just about the sexiest thing he ever saw, watching Lisa shift her butt around and wince as she inhaled and took the smallish pear into her, out of sight under the table. Then both hands were up on the table and sipping coffee again, winking at Corey. What mischief. There was no reason to do this except for the satisfaction of pulling a fast one on Mrs. Magnuson, the girls getting revenge on behalf of the guys who kept on getting their pockets searched.

Sandy's face betrayed no emotion at all as she invaginated the much bigger banana. After a minute she sipped her coffee and got up. "So long folks," she said, moving carefully around the table, taking the tray up, trying to walk naturally. She made it about halfway to the conveyor belt when the banana just fell out of her, plop, just like that, thumping quietly onto the hardwood floor. Mrs. Magnuson, fortunately, was looking the other way. Sandy kept walking, not breaking stride, kicking the banana aside with her bare foot, intending to pick it up and eat it later. Everyone at the table cracked up. Sandy would be hearing about this for days.

Corey looked out the window of his room at the full moon on this frigid, still night. He was dressed in his bathrobe. That was as far as he got and he knew he was chickening out. Lisa had asked him to make "his big move" tonight, going naked with her to Colleen Reilly's little get-together at her apartment in the faculty quarters, just a short walk across campus. Under the cover of darkness, he wouldn't get caught and charged with indecent exposure, and of course Colleen and everyone at her party would be cool about it. Colleen, in fact, had even signed the petition.

Corey was so happy with Lisa, they had a great sex life, he just didn't agree with her that BSC guys were being emasculated and marginalized by having to wear clothes while the girls got to be naked and strong all around them. But she did have something of a point. Guys in 1968 were not like guys today, certainly not like him. Nudity was a benefit to the girls and would probably be a benefit to the guys too if they tried it nowadays.

They had talked about whether Blanke Schande girls were dominant or submissive. Having to be naked all the time -- but they agreed to it! Having to present -- but the guys couldn't touch! One might think that the girls, being stripped, would be submissive, bordering on sex slaves, but of course at BSC nothing could be further from the truth. He had written an essay about it once for class. So complicated.

He wandered down his hallway, past Ahmad's room and Hank's, then past the doorless rooms of Shelly and Keisha and Erendira. Erendira was sitting on her bed, reading her sociology book, legs splayed open in full view, idly tugging on one big nipple, flexing her toes lazily. So unself-conscious. And now here was Corey, a typical covered up BSC male.

Maybe he had been looking at Erendira longer than he thought, but she looked up with a pleasant expression and assumed that he was asking her to "present".

Keisha walked past him and said hi. She always had a smile for him. As she passed by her high, bare butt cheek brushed his hip. These halls were so narrow.

Erendira spread her legs, her large breasts languidly rolling a bit off each side of her chest, and spread her lower lips for Corey. Corey smiled. "You seem depressed," the voluptuous Hispanic girl said.

Corey smiled faintly and shrugged. "I'd hate it if I was the one who had to do that."

Erendira looked at him and then turned over onto all fours. Her firm breasts, like hanging grapefruit, almost touched the bed as she reached back and spread her brown butt cheeks, displaying the asterisk of her anus. "It's nothing, after a while. It's just me." Keeping this position, she said, "You think of the petition your girlfriend has, no?"

"Yes."

"Maybe you're afraid of being gay, seeing the other guys naked." She shifted so as to get better anchoring and spread her butt wider.

"Maybe."

"Well so what? You know whether you're gay or not. I think you're not."

Corey looked at her brown eyes, then at her brown asterisk. She shifted again and to his amazement he saw the anus open to a dark little hole about half an inch across. "Wow," he said.

"Go ahead, look closer," Erendira said, as if with pride. "I just learned how to relax this week. Olga showed me."

"Well I'm impressed," Corey said. "So," he said, as he leaned forward and peered into the dark red interior walls of Erendira's empty, recently irrigated rectum. "What should I do?"

"Be brave," she said.

"Thanks, it's not easy."

"Yes I know," said the sympathetic naked girl with the breasts like big hanging grapefruit and the anus that was open to reveal her most inner depths, as if it was her very soul.

It was quiet and late, about 10 o'clock on a cold mountain Friday night. Corey looked out the window at the little table out there under the light. Olga, naked in the frigid air, was chatting in Russian with Tereshkova, both of them smoking those filterless Russian cigarettes, the professor bundled up, clouds coming from their mouths. Of all the BSC females Olga was the one who tried the most to approach what Tereshkova called "the limit". Of course, as she often said, she never would go naked in winter in her native Siberia, but at Alturas her exposures to cold were downright ostentatious, as if to shock people. Now she threw the cigarette butt down and crushed it with her foot, not a painful act for a BSC female, especially at Alturas. The soles of Alturas girls were rock hard. You didn't want to get kicked by one.

Olga disappeared from view and now she returned with an icicle in her hand, maybe a foot long and an inch thick. Corey knew what was coming and prepared to cringe. Olga got up on all fours on the table, then reached back and spread her butt cheeks. She did her open anus trick. The professor, cigarette still in her mouth, carefully guided the blunt end of the icicle into the little hole, then slowly pushed in, maybe five or six inches, then held it there. Olga put her head down on the ice-covered table as if praying -- which would have been quite out of character for her -- and then she began rapid deep breathing as if trying to hyperventilate. Corey, one of the males who had taken the cryokinesthetics course as an elective, knew what they were doing. Introducing ice into the rectum, the body's warmest region, was an efficient way of lowering the internal temperature, which prompted the body to fight back by increasing metabolism, ultimately making the body stronger and more resistant. He knew Tereshkova would carefully hold the icicle in Olga's rectum as it quickly melted to a thin point, then slowly take it out, then Olga would rush inside to take a warm bath.

He wandered back to his room, which he had left open, and sitting on his bed was Lisa. He looked at her and down at his robe. "Sorry, I can't." He sat down next to her.

He felt the need to explain. "For you girls it was a rule when you got here, that you knew you were subjecting yourself to. Would you have just taken off your clothes if it was just your idea, and not already a college rule?"

Lisa put her arm around his shoulder. "I suppose not."

"Well . . . " Corey looked down at his stockinged feet next to his girlfriend's bare toes. He cleared his throat. "It WILL happen. Someday, soon. I just have to think about it. . . When Basji shows up, I'll do the naked thing at her welcoming party, with Tommy Chen and Hank and Ahmad. We'll try to get all the guys here to do it." He looked up sheepishly. "Sorry."

Lisa gave him a long soulful kiss, hugged him with her breasts and her hips, one bare leg snaking around him. She looked him in the eye. "You're brave to go this far. I'm proud of you."

Then she was off, away into the cold darkness, the refrozen ice on the path cracking under her scampering bare feet. Corey smiled. Maybe one day the guys would be naked too and BSC would be an even better training for the outside world. He was convinced it wouldn't be The End of Blanke Schande. The time was just not yet. Blanke Schande, like life, was such an ongoing adventure.

[end]