Naked Fun and Games

A collection by P.A. Choi

Copyright 2025 P.A. Choi

Cover design by P.A. Choi

Table of Contents

The Naked Arcade

The Great Naked Cornhole Tournament

A Cold Night to be Naked

The Naked Video Game

Nude Mod Remastered

Naked Escape

About P.A. Choi:

The Naked Arcade

The air was thick with the scent of both permeated sweat and burger grease. Chris stared past the bar, looking for a server to at least bring him water. As he waited, he spoke to the guy sitting next to him.

“Yeah, it was long ago, right when I turned eighteen, I couldn’t believe I had been lucky enough to have discovered such a place. It was the oldest arcade in town. It was kind of shitty, to be honest. They didn’t have the newest games, and the new ones they did have always broke down. The owner was a nice old guy, though a little weird. Apparently he was a nudist. That’s what helped make the place so special.

“He had the idea at one point to make the arcade a nudist arcade. I remember about it because there were so many heated opinion columns in the local newspaper at the time. My interest was piqued; an arcade where you could be completely naked? It sounded cool. And maybe, just maybe, I would run into my high school crush Stephanie there. She was the only girl I noticed in school, because she came to the arcades and didn’t seem to give a fuck about appearances, and I never had the gall to approach her, in school or at the arcade.

"The owner made a simple rule when he decided to make the arcade clothing optional: seventeen and up. He had gotten plenty of flack in the newspapers, accusing him of trying to create a hovel for dirty old men to come ogle at naked teens, but old men don't typically go to arcades. Neither do young kids. So settling it at seventeen and up worked out just fine, because that was the usual demographic. So I headed out one day, nervous to show up at the now notorious naked arcade, and what I saw when I stepped inside gave me some pause.”

*****

Naked guys. Naked guys all over. It gave me the same trepidation as when I used to finish gym class and had to contemplate the showers while all the other guys were getting naked around me as if it weren't a big deal. Now I had to look at lean, fit young guy asses all in front of me. Hardly a girl gamer there. And no Stephanie. I had been excited to visit this naked arcade, but now that I was there, I didn't feel comfortable. But everyone else did. It was amazing how many guys were okay with stripping down. Maybe it cut down on the sweaty feeling you get when you spend all day in an arcade; I can remember sweating it out to Ultimate Mortal Kombat 3 and feeling rank by the end of the day, and the sticky joysticks didn't help matters. Arcades are kind of a gross place, so why introduce nudity into them?

Strangely, it seemed to be a good decision. There was a faint scent of sweat in the air, but the owner had installed open-bay showers in the bathrooms, so if you were sweaty, you could get a quick rinse-off and get back to the games. I didn’t undress right away. I just walked through, amazed that so many guys were okay with being naked. So many of them were standing there, hip-to-hip, bashing it out at fighting games, and I had no idea how they were comfortable doing so. Nudity wasn’t required there, it was just optional, and it seemed that every guy took the option. I didn’t see too many girls—I rarely did—except for a chance glance at flesh that did not look masculine; soft shoulders, the glimpse of breasts—and then she would be lost in the crowd. I made my way back to where the newly-renovated restrooms were, with lockers to store your clothes, and I debated there for a long time about whether to get naked or not. Eventually, with shaking hands, I sat on a bench, took off my sneakers, stood and took down my pants, and then took off my shirt. I stashed them in the locker and then sat back down to put on my sneakers again. It felt so weird.

I guess you were supposed to rent a padlock for the locker, but I didn't bother and just took a few five-dollar bills from my jeans to go turn into quarters. I wondered how I would carry them around without pockets and wished I had brought a backpack as I walked back out into the arcade, my body trembling. I was so scared, so electrified. I could feel the stale A/C all over the entirety of my skin, and I was hyper-aware of my penis, diminutive, embarrassing, but not the center of attention as I feared. Other guys passed me by, just as naked as me, and nobody seemed to care. I was in a whole new world. And with a fistful of bills, I had to get the courage up to exchange them for quarters and begin playing.

I was real nervous when I stood by the change machine and fed in my five dollar bills. It felt like the whole world was looking at me. I was looking out of the corners of my eyes as people passed, none of them really caring that I was standing there completely naked with my little diddy hanging loose, and my attention was also piqued to see if there were any girls. I was too afraid to look at anyone directly as the fountain of coins spilled into my hands. And what do you know? They had little baggies there that you could take and carry your money in. The owner really had thought of everything.

I ended up by the Ultimate Mortal Kombat 3 cabinet, afraid to step up because somebody might want to play a two-player match, which I did not know if I was ready for. And as I stood there, dumbfounded, an older guy—I say older, but he was in his early twenties; when you’re younger, anybody a few years older than you seems intimidating—came up to the cabinet, fed in a quarter, and then looked at me. “You wanna play a round?” he asked. His body was lean and toned, rippling musculature up his arms and legs, his square, masculine ass rather distracting, and distracting even more, the length of his penis hanging before him. But I nodded and joined.

It actually didn't take too long to forget that I was naked, standing next to another naked guy. He was really good with Sub-Zero, and put me on my guard. We went through several matches, with me managing to win one, and when he won the last one and I bowed out, he clapped me on my shoulder, which made me recoil. But he wasn't trying to flirt. He drifted off and I was left standing there in a daze in front of the UMK3 machine. I didn't know what to do. I had to psyche myself up to even step in front of another arcade machine. And then a distraction entered that drew the attention of more than just me.

The owner's wife visited. She was in her forties, a really friendly woman, always smiling at all the customers and even talking to them about which games were their favorite. She was a sturdy blonde woman, and the secret crush of everybody who visited the arcade, and that was before its clothing-optional policy. But on that day, she lighted everybody's fires, as she came in attire-appropriate. In other words, she came in completely nude. She must have gotten undressed in the parking lot, for she walked right in through the front door in the altogether, no loose clothes in sight. My jaw fell open at her pendulous and tanned breasts and wealthy shag below, my fantasies dashed a little bit at the sight of her paunched stomach and other imperfections that didn't match up with all her fan's fantasies, and she wasn't phased at all to be walking through a sea of young men all suddenly zeroed in on her. I hadn't looked before, but after her appearance, I noticed an elevated penis or two, though I tried not to look.

The owner's wife crossed through the arcade, nodding and smiling at guys but not stopping to talk this time. She made a beeline for the concessions area where her owner-husband was, and the hordes of admirers had to pretend to go back to what they were doing. For me, that meant looking for another game to play. I considered one of the racing games they had, like Cruis'n USA, but I couldn't help but wonder how many naked asses and bare nut-sacks had settled down on those plastic seats. That was a consideration that I bet the owner hadn’t thought of, for they didn't enforce a rule to sit on towels, as is done at nudist resorts, and I could only hope that some employee regularly wiped down those seats, but I never saw anyone doing so.

I was near the front of the arcade, near the doors, so close to being exposed to the outside world should those doors swing wide open, when they did, and in stepped Stephanie, my crush, my world, suddenly the last person I wanted to see, as she was completely clothed in her usual attire of jeans and a sweatshirt, and I was completely, helplessly, buck-ass naked, and her eyes settled on me. All of a sudden I was helpless, like a deer in headlights, as she smiled at me and I internally whimpered.

“Oh, hey, Chris,” she said with a bright, cheery voice. “You’re trying it out, too, huh?”

I didn’t know what to say. Did that mean she was trying it out as well? Was I going to soon see her naked? Much to my terror, she came closer, moving away from the door and crossing the gap between us. She came right up to me, close enough to touch, close enough for my penis—if it were erect—to reach out to her, but I was too terrified to be aroused.

“Yeah, I, uh... I didn’t know you came here.”

That was a lie, because of course I'd seen her there before. I just couldn't imagine that I'd be lucky enough to see her here now, with the arcade's current rules.

“Come on, you know I come here,” she said, her eyes flinching just briefly—perhaps glancing down at my dick. “Were you hoping to see me? I’ve been nervous about coming now.”

Again, I didn’t know what to say. But somehow, stupidly, I nodded. This made Stephanie grin. She glanced down again, more noticeably this time, and bit her lip.

“Anyway, I’m gonna go get, uh, accustomed. See you in a bit, if you wanna play a few games.”

I again didn’t know what to say. Here was my high school crush being for once completely open to me, inviting me to a game—while I stood before her completely naked! As she walked past me, my penis finally raised a few inches in acknowledgment of my excited state. And after she left, I again didn’t know what to do. I was too awash in the remnants of her presence, and of the uninhibited nudity all around me, as well as my own nudity, to know how to move forward. It seemed I should pick a game to play with Stephanie—oh God, I would see her naked—but I was too in awe of everything to move, and I stood there as people passed me and my fledgling erection by, and, unnoticed by them, it eased down. Then I turned and faced the naked arcade, looking for where to go.

I found myself drawn to a Primal Rage cabinet—I always loved that game, it attracted the little kid in me who liked seeing dinosaurs chomp on people—and I was shyly standing there, watching two naked dudes play, trying not to stare at their asses, when Stephanie came up behind me and startled me.

“Hey! So are we waiting on this one?”

I again was at a loss for words, because my jaw had fallen open and refused to move. There Stephanie stood without any reservations, her arms at her sides, hiding nothing.

A simple purse string was draped across her shoulder. Otherwise, she was as bare as I’ve ever dared imagine her, now suddenly all too real. Her skin was honey-hued, except for the faint white impressions over her pointy, handful-sized breasts, soft pink at the tips making me salivate. My eyes began to take a trip down her slim waist, catching a glimpse of puffy dark before they darted back up and I said—

“U-uh, yeah, though it’s taken right now.”

One of the two guys playing Primal Rage looked over his shoulder and did a double-take, and he had trouble handling his opponent after that.

“Aw come on, man,” the other guy said, not noticing Stephanie standing behind him. “Are you even trying?”

For some reason, that phrase stuck with me in that moment, as I stood there naked next to my naked crush. Are you even trying? It gave me a weird burst of motivation.

“Let’s see what else is available,” I said, stepping ahead of Stephanie, letting her get a gander of my bare butt (something of hers I didn’t even get to see yet), confidently scanning the room for a free machine.

I stopped at the rail-shooter Terminator 2 machine. The demo reel showed the player's cross-hairs mowing down endoskeletons. The raw violence was somehow attractive amid all the nakedness, and then my motivation appeared beside me, close enough that I could feel her body heat against my skin.

“Cool, a shooter, this looks fun,” she said, and I glanced at her, taking her in again, practicing keeping my eyes level with hers, daring to glance down at the glimpse of darkness between her legs.

She was already digging in her purse for some coins. I stepped up to the cabinet with my sack of quarters and got one of my own. Side-by-side, we slid our coins in, and I had to practice paying attention to the enemies on-screen rather than my nude crush next to me.

It’s strange to say, but I could sense the ripple of her supple, light breasts as she pulled the trigger on the prop gun and it vibrated with simulated recoil. But I was focused on eliminating all the Terminators populating the screen in front of me. For me, too, when the gun vibrated in my hands, I could feel my limbs shake, and I could feel trouble down below, my flaccid penis fighting to maintain its flaccid state. Over the course of our game, it climbed slightly, to where when we finally reached a game over, it was nearly at full rigidity, and I was terrified as we stepped back from the machine.

Stephanie didn’t miss a beat. “That was pretty fun!” she said, looking directly into my eyes, only briefly flitting them downwards as I had with her.

This was the moment that should have been a fateful one, where I would lean in and embrace her. We were both completely naked after all, and within inches of each other. But we were standing in public. The idea passed my mind as quickly as it came.

“Hey, Street Fighter II is open!” she shouted, pointing at the available machine with a bubble of emptiness around it. She was so enthusiastic about it. “Let’s go.”

She was then the one going forward, leading the way, and my eyes helplessly strayed and finally saw the beautiful form and sway of her round rear-end as she drew me along like the Pied Piper.

She came up confidently to the Street Fighter II cabinet and I came up beside her, my heart rattling as I fished in my sack for a quarter and she confidently fed in one of hers. Soon I was distracted by having to fight Stephanie, and I was fighting for my life, feeling exhilarated, exhilaration that was a combination of my struggle against her (she was really good) and my nakedness in doing so. I slapped the buttons so hard I could feel my penis wobble, but it was then forgotten as I dodged Stephanie’s fireballs and danced in to deliver a hit. And as we fought, we drew a crowd. Before I realized it, I had body heat gathering at my back.

“Damn, look at her go,” I heard some guy behind me say as Stephanie’s Dhalsim bounded over my attacks and hit me from behind. I was more than a little distracted now, from her presence beside me, to my own nakedness, to the presence of the others now crowding around. When I was able to assess my surroundings, I found that we were circled by guys, no doubt drawn in by Stephanie’s pure nakedness.

A final blow was delivered on my fighter, and he cried out in defeat as he bounced on the ground, and the guys around us cheered.

Humbly defeated, I fed in another quarter and faced Stephanie again. I was more focused on the game than ever now, but I could still not beat her. Her Dhalsim bounced and danced around my E. Honda. I was so focused that I almost forgot about Stephanie’s lightly bouncing breasts next to me and the crowd at my bare back. When my E. Honda was sent into another defeat animation, though, I was reminded of our audience as they cheered. It was with extreme nervousness that I fed in another quarter and continued fighting for my life, but now fully aware of everything besides the game. Stephanie was aggressive at the controls, making her body animated, and I could feel the collected body around me like I was in an oven. I could feel the sweat run down my bare skin. And the sweat on my palms quickly made the joystick hard to handle, and I fell to Stephanie again. I fought so foolishly that I soon lost most of my quarters, and another guy was crowding in, bare skin brushing against me, asking to fight Stephanie.

So I found myself backing away as another guy—taller, more fit, more conventionally masculine—took my place, and Stephanie didn’t cast a look back at all. I stood there and stared as the naked young man next to her, dwarfing both me and her at six feet—gripped the controls and his ass flexed. The rest of the crowd closed in, and I was effectively pushed away, retreating as a closing circle of male butts surrounded Stephanie and her new opponent.

That's the last I ever saw of her. I was too bashful to reconnect with her that day, and too embarrassed to go back to the naked arcade, even though it ultimately was a good experience. I was just too scared. Until now. It’s good to be back.

As Chris finished his story, his attention returned to the bar, with the bartender absent. He was still waiting on his drink. All around him, people moved about naked in the now-expanded naked arcade, more or less a clothing-optional Dave and Buster's. His nuts sat comfortably on the provided towel which was draped over his bar stool, where he sat with nothing on, reminiscing and embracing his past experiences. The guy on the stool beside him, already three drinks in, was barely paying attention to Chris or his story. Retelling the story was more for catharsis than anything else, a way to reflect on the opportunities he’d missed. But he was thrilled to be back, and thrilled to have so freely abandoned his clothes and embrace social nudity once again. If only he had a drink. He didn't expect to finish his story before getting one.

Then a female bartender materialized as if out of nowhere, and as if out of his dreams. She alarmed Chris with her suddenness as much as her attractiveness, a chipper girl, not really young, but youthful in her energy, her bright face, her sprightly breasts, mottled with age but still totally familiar. Chris’s jaw fell to the bar as before him was the familiar visage of Stephanie, twenty years ahead, still as captivating as ever.

“Sorry for the wait,” she said. “Shift change. What can I get you started with?”

It was only after she said it that she paused and took on the same look of astonishment that Chris had.

“Chris Hadoshel. Holy shit.”

“Yep, I’m back,” he managed to say. It was the first thing he could think to say, like the catchphrase of one of the Street Fighter characters when they start a match. “Back where we left off.”

The guy sitting next to him finally paid attention, witnessing the reuniting of the two characters he had barely listened to the story of.

The Great Naked Cornhole Tournament

Amy was so incredibly nervous, despite wanting to go through with it. It wasn’t necessarily her idea; it was more on the insistence of her friend Christina, who was a lot more shameless. The idea was to attend a cornhole tournament at a local beer brewery. The catch was that the tournament was a nude tournament: clothing prohibited. It was the concept of the brewery’s owner, who was a self-professed nudist and who wanted to introduce clothes-free activities to the public to show them the joys of nudism. The nudity would be restricted to the back patio area, away from the prying eyes of the public, but it would be public enough being naked in front of so many other people. Amy was no prude, and she in fact loved the idea, but there was a tremble of fear on the morning she woke up and confirmed with Christina that she would be going.

She met her at her place, dressed accordingly in consideration that she would be ultimately removing her clothes: just a pair of shorts and a T-shirt. Christina was more dressed up in a nice blouse and slacks. The two of them looked so mismatched, and Christina had a smile on her face in expectation of what they would be doing.

“Any last-minute regrets?” she asked Amy as she drove them to the beer brewery.

“No,” Amy said with a nervous tilt in her voice. She had never been anywhere like a nudist resort or beach, though she often championed body positivity as seen in events such as the World Naked Bike Ride and any number of nude protests. She had never joined the ranks of young women baring their bodies online in OnlyFans or as strippers or sex workers. Though she was in support of all of that, she was ultimately a modest person. And here she found herself on the way to an event of uninhibited exposure. But from what she gleamed, it was a wholesome event, thought up by a wholesome man with wholesome intentions. It didn't help ease her nervousness, though.

They arrived at the beer brewery and Christina shut off the engine, sending the terrifying message straight to Amy’s heart that now was the time to go in and get naked. There was no turning back, as much as she wanted to. She sucked in her breath and got out of the car, standing level with her friend and exchanging nervous glances.

“You ready?” Christina asked her.

“No,” Amy replied. “But let’s go do this.”

Together, they walked to the front of the brewery, ready to get naked.

Amy was a little dismayed when she entered and saw that most of the clientele was older men. Mostly in their forties, some that looked in their fifties and sixties, none all too attractive, burly and surly and the perfect picture of a dirty old man. Perhaps that was the demographic of seasoned nudists like the owner. Perhaps it was just the demographic of the brewery, which Amy had admittedly never been to, but she assumed breweries were for the younger crowd. Apparently not. Not this brewery, at least. Christina took the lead and navigated them through the main floor, where errant eyes were cast their way, perhaps in expectation of when they would get naked.

Amy followed Christina up to the counter, where a young male bartender greeted them and where Christina asked about the tournament.

“Oh yeah,” he said knowingly, hardly missing a beat as he looked at the two young, attractive women. “It starts out back in like fifteen minutes. What can I grab you in the meantime?”

And so Amy and Christina found themselves with a flight of small sample-size draft beers, carrying the wooden serving tray out to the back patio, where Amy was shocked to see that there already were people naked.

They were not exactly what she had wanted to see. Out there on the lawn, tossing some cornhole sacks around, were a group of portly, naked older men. The sudden sight of so much uninhibited and conventionally unattractive nudity was a shock to Amy. These were the guys she was going to get naked in front of? And when was she going to get naked? Right out here? Or did she have the opportunity to privately undress somewhere? She didn’t know how these things worked.

Christina wasn’t phased at all and carried their flight of beers to a vacant table overlooking the lawn where the men tossed cornhole sacks back and forth, glancing only briefly in the girls’ direction.

“I guess this is it,” Christina said as she sat the beer flight down, and Amy’s heart skipped a beat. This is it? It’s time?

“We do it right here?” she spouted, and Christina smiled at her.

“Yeah, where else? You shy now?”

Amy glanced nervously at the naked old men out on the patio.

“No. Though I was hoping there’d be more people our age here.”

“Maybe there will be,” Christina said, and then unceremoniously began unbuttoning her blouse. That was Amy’s queue; it was time to get naked.

She hesitated greatly, while in the meantime, her friend became undressed in front of her eyes. The blouse opened and there was no bra underneath. It fell away and her bared breasts were before Amy, something she had to adjust herself against, because as reasonable and outgoing about body issues as Amy was, she had never actually seen her friend—or any of her friends—naked. She had never casually walked nude in a locker room setting, or relaxed naked with her friends as guys no doubt fantasized that they did. So now, she was almost as mystified as a guy would be by the baring of Christina's breasts, and then all the rest, swiftly revealed as she pulled down her slacks. She was completely shaven, and it was shocking for Amy to see her friend's bared genitalia with its dangling labia, and yet none of the guys out on the patio looked up yet. And Amy had not yet removed a single article of clothing. But with her nude friend next to her, she got motivated. With trembling hands, she pulled off her t-shirt. She too had not worn a bra that day; what need did she have for it? She was already unaccustomed to the free feeling it gave her, of the anchor that was her breasts' center of gravity, now kissed by the cool air, and shaking, not daring to look at the lawn, she slung her shirt on the back of a chair and took down her shorts. Her sandaled feet slipped out of their coverings and through the leg holes, and the kiss of the cool air was now on her bottom, on her groin, on her whole body, which was snow fully shaking as she still dared not look out at the lawn where the hungry men were waiting for her. It was all she could do to meet eyes with Christina, who was beaming.

“Ready to do this?” she asked, looking Amy over. They stood in front of each other as they had never done before, and Amy was overtaken by an incredible urge to just go with it, an urge that led her to say “yeah” and walk side-by-side with her friend down the patio steps and into the fire, her skin burning with attention the whole way.

The guys looked up and waved with big smiles. Though before them were two young women completely bared, they did not react leeringly. Rather, they smiled warmly and beckoned them over. It was such a surreal situation that Amy did not know how to take it.

“Come on over,” one of the portly men said. “We’re gonna start soon. We’ll wait and see if anyone else shows up.”

The awkwardness was palpable, but Amy and the others had no choice but to make introductions.

“Hope you don’t feel too on the spot,” one of the men said. “I was hoping we’d have a more diverse crowd. I’m Steve.”

“A-Amy,” Amy said with a tremble in her voice, and Christina announced her name with more confidence. Besides Steve, who had a giant beer belly and a little, uncircumcised penis, there were three other guys, two of them equally portly, one of them tall and lean but very old, and the most well-endowed of the group. Amy did her best not to stare, but he was hung... This whole situation was so weird. She had advocated for casual and non-sexual nudity for so long, but now, put in the situation, she couldn't help but fixate on the older men's genitals, and to herself feel looked at, analyzed, though none of the men showed any external signs of being fixated on her. Meanwhile, Christina was seemingly in her element.

“There are six of us right now,” the lean man said. “So if nobody else shows up... shall we pick teams?”

Amy was left in awe, being forced to team up with random naked men, and feeling their eyes all over her. Her hand hovered to her groin momentarily to hide it, until she forced it to fall to her side. She looked at the chubbiest (and incidentally the youngest-looking) of the four men and his face seemed welcoming and just as shy as her. They both nodded at each other. And before she knew it, teams were decided. It was her, the younger, chubby guy, and the lean, hung man, leaving her separated from Christina, who went to the other side of the lawn to join up with Steve and the other portly man. The sexes were evenly divided, and the cornhole sacks were passed around. It was time to get into the game, but Amy was still trying to get a hold of the situation. Before she knew it, cornhole sacks were being tossed towards her side of the playing field. She had to set aside her reservations about all this public nudity and concentrate on the game, as hard as that was. She stood trembling, holding one of the sacks to throw, trying to concentrate without being distracted by the eyes on her and the men on the other side, but Christina was there, silently encouraging her, and she arced her arm and threw.

Plop. It landed way off target. She was not as concentrated as she should be, and the next two throws weren’t any better. Soon she was standing aside as one of the guys on the opposite end took his turn, looking at the cornhole goal more than her, swinging his arm wide as he threw, an interestingly beautiful display of the human body in motion.

He wasn’t much better a cornhole player than her.

Then it was one of her partners’ turn: the younger guy. Amy stood with no way to cover herself as the man threw his sacks. She had nothing to do but watch him, the way his body moved, the shifting of muscles even underneath his chubbiness, the jiggle of his flaccid penis as he extended his arm, the devoted eyes of Christina as she watched from the other side. There was nothing that couldn’t keep this moment from feeling exhibitionistic, but as the players on the opposite side picked up the sacks and prepared for their turn, a transformation happened. Amy watched expectantly, not looking at the other players’ bodies necessarily, but observing their performance in the sport. Plop. Plop. They were also not that good at cornhole. That struck Amy as funny, and already she was eagerly stepping towards the board on her end to retrieve the thrown bags. Already she was feeling comfortable in the nude.

Then the back doors of the brewery opened and some new challengers appeared. A couple; a young, pretty—ridiculously pretty—girl, and a lean, young man who drew Amy’s eyes suddenly. They both wore jeans and T-shirts.

“Hey, we too late for the cornhole tournament?” the young man called. Amy tensed. She had just gotten comfortable, but now with a pair of people her age standing above—something she had initially wished for—she found herself on edge all over again.

“We just started,” one of the old men said. “But come on down!”

And so, the couple began to undress up on the porch just as Amy and Christina had done. Amy found herself in the funny position of now being the voyeur and averted her eyes.

And then the young couple were upon them. They had gotten undressed so fast. Amy squeezed her shoulders in tight at the presence of the lean young man; he was very nice to look at. Lean, with defined abs and a distractingly long penis that swayed as he walked. The girl beside him—presumably his girlfriend—was equally beautiful, shapely, with large breasts and an hourglass figure, and a pencil-thin landing strip trimmed between her thighs. She was the image of a pinup model, and she made Amy feel self-conscious of her own body. But if the girl was the guy’s girlfriend, then she needn’t worry about being creeped on. She hoped.

Christina, on the other side of the cornhole field, was all grins.

“We’re in teams of three, obviously,” the leaner old man on Amy’s team explained, “but we can re-arrange if y’all two wanna be together.”

“Nah, that’s fine,” the young man said. “Whatchu wanna do, Jill?”

“Doesn’t matter to me. I guess I’ll go over there?” the hourglass woman said, looking over to Christina’s side.

“Cool,” the young man said. “Let’s play some cornhole.”

And the woman named Jill walked slowly over to the other side, her voluptuous backside salaciously moving perhaps unintentionally so, and Amy was stuck with the young, attractive guy who now made her sweat and tremble. He looked at her and smiled as a greeting while the chubby guy took up his sacks to throw.

Jill, the young guy had casually called her. Not “babe” or “hun.” And the way they so willingly split up... maybe they weren’t boyfriend and girlfriend. Maybe they were just platonic friends who had no problem being naked together. Or maybe they were just a couple that had no attachment issues. Either way, it made Amy paranoid that she indeed might be an object of attention for the young guy now on her team, and in her mind gave her a sort of carte blanche to steal looks, to allow herself to be lustful of him. They stood next to each other, several feet apart, as they watched the chubby guy make his throws, and the new guy’s eyes didn’t stray from the game. Amy hugged herself reflexively, squeezing her boobs together, and she dropped her arms as she realized the display she was making of herself.

Over on the other side, Christina looked to be chatting happily with the other girl, Jill. They were laughing and smiling and Amy had no idea what they were saying, but it seemed she had found some instant common ground with the girl. And now the sexes were no longer equally divided. Amy felt vulnerable now, with only three naked men as company.

It was Jill who stepped up next, and Amy and all the men watched as she leaned forward and threw, the men probably loving the carte blanch they were given, to stare at a voluptuous naked woman, for where else would they look except for at their opponent?

Swoosh. Her sacks landed directly in their targets, one after the other. She must play a lot of cornhole, Amy thought.

“Alright, that’s three points for team two!” the lean, older guy on Amy’s side said.

“Hey, who says we're ‘team two?’” Steve, on the other side, said. “The way I see it, we're number one right now!”

The lightheartedness of the whole affair, the warming sun on Amy’s shoulders, the sound of happy birds chirping above... it all made the scene so perfect, and Amy again forgot her apprehension. She loosened up, she felt her body free to move without restrictions. She was comfortable again.

“I’ll even the odds,” the attractive guy on her team said, heading to retrieve the sacks from their cornhole board, and Amy’s eyes widened embarrassingly as the man bent over and she saw his sack dangling there, such an innocently obscene display. Then he stood straight and became decent again as he poised at the line and got ready to throw.

Again Amy was suddenly appreciative of the sight of the body in motion, especially this young, corded body of a man in his prime. His sides flexed and his glutes tensed as he arced his arm back, and his follow-through was perfect, landing his sack (not that one) straight into the hole.

“One for team one!” the older lean man cried with joy.

The young guy missed the second throw but landed the third.

“That’s three-two!” Steve called. “Still number one!”

“We’re not even scoring correctly,” the young, chubby guy on Amy’s side yelled back.

Behind Steve, Amy could see that Christina and Jill were still talking giddily, glancing over at the other side, seemingly directly at her. Were they talking about her?

Christina was next to throw, and she helped keep the score as it was, missing all three. Clumsy as she was, she was still a sight to behold, bare, innocently enjoying herself, yet the heavy jiggle of her breasts salacious, no doubt a treat for the men around her, including, possibly, the young man on her side, who she lost sight of for the moment.

“So this must be your guys’ favorite hangout,” his voice suddenly came beside her and made her jump. There, just a foot away, the young man stood, facing her full-frontal. Her eyes zeroed in on his abs and didn’t dare go any lower, instead raising to shyly meet his face.

“U-uh no, this is actually the first time I’ve been here,” she said as a cool breeze buffeted her chest and made her tremble. “And this is the first time they’ve done something like this, I think,” she added, trying to ignore her sudden re-awareness of her nudity.

“I think it’s awesome,” he said. “More places are starting to do things like this. Me and Jill are trying to find all the naked-friendly venues.”

Amy had an instinct to press about Jill and her relationship with this man, not that she was interested in getting with anybody, but it was a question that dogged her mind.

“I’m Roger, by the way,” the young man said, and he extended his hand. Amy looked at it as if it were a live snake. Behind the man, the chubby guy was making his throws, missing them, to groans from the other players.

Amy took Roger’s hand. Hers was trembling.

“A-Amy,” she said, feeling as if the natural electrical current of Roger’s body was being transferred to her. Just making that brief contact with him filled her with energy, energy she could feel over every inch of her bare skin.

“Are you guys like... a nudist couple or something?” she asked as they released the handshake, finally finding the avenue to broach the question living in the back of her mind, as awkwardly as she had phrased it.

“Oh, no we’re just friends,” he said, and Amy was ashamed to feel a weightlessness in her chest. “But we are big-time nudists, yes. There aren’t a lot of resorts nearby, so it’s great we have things like this to go to. I hear there’s a naked arcade in town, like a big giant naked Dave and Busters.”

“O-oh, that sounds cool,” Amy said, though she didn’t really mean it. The idea of being in a crowded arcade full of naked people was even more terrifying than what she was doing now, not to mention possibly gross; imagine all the sweaty bodies packed together! But her mind was also putting her in that scenario, with this man here before her, standing closer than they were now, shoulder-to-shoulder, playing some two-player arcade machine. She could feel her nipples stiffen and began to blush.

Plop. Plop. Plop. The next thrower on the other side missed all three shots.

“Looks like the newcomers are the MVPs!” the chubby guy on Jill's side called over. Then it was Amy’s turn. As she stepped forward and Roger stepped aside, her eyes finally submitted to her lust and glanced down and—was he slightly erect now? She quickly looked away and went to the cornhole board, bending down to pick up the sacks—and perhaps giving Roger and the others an indecent view of her vulva as she had glimpsed Roger's anatomy. Then she was poised to throw, feeling on display, but in a strangely positive way, like an Olympian, like a statue of a Greek goddess. Indeed the Olympics used to be played in the nude. There was something pure and perfect and amazing about the human body, a great work of art and creation, and it was with those thoughts in mind that Amy leaned forward, threw her arm back, felt her muscles move, and tossed.

Swoosh. A hole-in-one. Christina, even though she was on the opposing team, cheered. Amy threw her second shot and nailed it as well. Perhaps there was something about her comfort, about her nudity, about the free range of her body, as the Olympians believed in, that enabled her to focus and succeed. Her third shot missed, but barely, just hanging there at the edge of the hole.

“Four-three now!” the chubby guy ribbed. “It would be even more if we were following the rules!”

Amy turned from her throwing spot feeling proud, both in her helping the score and in her body, as she stood bravely before the eyes of her teammates, including Roger, who—yes, he definitely was partially erect, at a good forty-five degrees, perhaps turned on by watching her bare butt flex as she threw. Or maybe he was just naturally like that. Or maybe he was just partially turned on by being naked, as some people were at the idea of public nudity. Though he had said that he and Jill were already enthusiastic nudists. Amy walked up and past him and Roger grinned and said “good job.” Just the attention made Amy blush.

They didn’t interact more past that, all of them watching Steve make his throw, missing all but one.

“Four-four!” he yelled. “It’s a tie now!”

And so the game went. The lean, older man was up next, and Amy observed him passively, again admiring the body in motion, even one not as sexually magnetic as Roger’s, who stood out of her view. She just enjoyed herself, the ability to be naked out in the open, the gentle breeze on her back.

They took a break to sip from their warming beers up by the patio, where Amy reunited with Christina, and Roger and Jill joined them; the young people were united, while the old guys remained down on the grass.

“So Jill tells me you guys are nudists,” Christina said towards Roger with wide, admiring eyes.

“Yep,” he said. “People don’t think young people are into it, but they are. Places like this make it easier.”

Amy sipped her bitter beer and enjoyed the breeze blowing through the porch, yet she no longer felt “exposed” in the negative sense. They were all naked, they were all on the same footing, and they were all having a good time. Christina flitted her eyes conspiratorially to Amy, though, as if to telepathically inquire how she and Roger were getting along. Just the half-second look made Amy blush and reflexively look down at Roger’s half-mast penis as they stood around the tables.

“You ‘bout ready?” Steve called from the lawn. Amy and Christina sat their mostly empty beer flight glasses down.

“How many rounds are usually played, anyway?” Amy asked as they all four trotted down the steps, respective jiggly parts jiggling.

“Usually I think it's played until the first team reaches twenty-one points,” Roger said. “But it's not like this is a league game.”

“Let’s just play until we’ve had enough fun,” Christina said. “I’m still having lots of it.”

As they neared the cornhole boards, Christina turned to Amy.

“Actually, we should get another flight of beers.”

“You can bring them down here, you know,” Steve said. “There’s some tables scattered around here.”

Christina turned excitedly to Amy.

“Wanna do another flight? Let’s unwind.”

“I don’t know if I can drink that much more beer,” Amy said, rubbing her stomach, suddenly self-conscious that it might look bloated.

“Me and Jill can split one with you two,” Roger said nearby. Christina’s eyes lit up and Amy found herself smiling. That was a good compromise. And they were having a lot of fun. “We can split the check when we go back inside.”

“Tell you what, I’ll go get it,” Amy said. “Do you guys have a preference?”

“Anything hoppy, nothing fruity.”

“Got it.”

And with that, Amy spun around on her heels. Perhaps she just wanted to get away for a little bit, or perhaps she was as excited as Christina was to extend their afternoon, but she walked swiftly towards the steps as the guys behind her moved some outdoor tables to sit their flights on. Amy did not see Christina and the others reach out as if they could stop her, and she did not hear their calls once she opened the door to the brewery.

She only realized her mistake when the chatter in the building stopped. People sitting at the tables were all halted in mid-conversation, some with beers half-raised to their lips as if frozen in time. The thing that made them all different from Amy was that they were all clothed.

Shit, she thought. That’s right. Nudity was supposed to be limited to the back patio. Now she stood naked before several dozen spectators.

The guy running the bar rushed over to the end closest to her, a panicked look in his eyes. Amy wanted to turn and run, but it was too late, and she was rooted to the ground. The man looked like he was about to reprimand her, but his expression softened and he said: “C-can I get you anything?”

“Uuuuh... we were gonna do another flight, half the same as what we got before, a-and the other half just what IPAs you have.”

“Alright, you were under Christina, right?”

“R-right.”

“Coming right up.”

And just like that, he turned away from her as if she were another normal, clothed customer, and she found herself standing in the sea of stares and holding her hands in front of herself.

The bartender looked back.

“I can bring it out,” he said.

“Oh, r-right, thanks.”

And with that, Amy made her hasty retreat and could hear the elevated conversation resume behind her as she went through the doors.

Christina and all the others were standing, shocked, as she came back out. Amy found herself blushing yet again as she went down the steps.

“I can’t believe you went in there like that!” Christina marveled.

“Yeah, I kind of forgot I was naked.”

“The way I see it,” Steve said, “if we’re allowed to be naked out here, they might as well let us be naked everywhere.”

“Yeah, but there are people in there that don’t know about the tournament,” Roger countered. “Don’t want to shock any innocent people. Nudism shouldn't be about forcing it on others.”

They all stood in contemplation of that thought as the back doors opened and the server came out holding the wooden flight tray in shaky hands. It was all the courage Amy could muster just to face him.

“T-thanks, you can set it on that table there,” she said, motioning to the table the guys had moved. The server wordlessly sat the tray down while keeping his eyes to the ground, and quickly turned and left. Funny that he should be so flustered when he knew what to expect when hosting a nude cornhole tournament.

Christina, Amy, Robert, and Jill all chose a flight glass and toasted. Then the game resumed. Amy was feeling a slight buzz and was feeling good. The embarrassment had now converted into exhilaration, and the exhilaration coursed through her body and dispersed into just pure, simple joy. The two teams battled back and forth and bantered like old friends, and Amy's faux pas was forgotten. But not by the people inside, as now a few spectators came out of the back door to watch. Suddenly Amy felt self-conscious all over again. She was being looked at, and not in the way that the guys on the other side looked at her when she threw her cornhole sack. More like the way she had stolen glances at Robert, the way she was now again stealing glances at Robert. She had become accustomed to him, but now it was as if the introduction of voyeurism somehow reminded her of her own interests and desires.

A few of the guys cast annoyed glances towards the gathering group up on the porch. Now there were at least five people—four guys and one woman—all watching silently. So be it, Amy thought. If they wanted a show, they could have it. One had to expect to be stared at when one made the bold choice to be naked in public.

Steve, on the other side of the court, seemed ready to say something when the door opened again, and an older, refined-looking, slightly gray-haired man in slacks and a tucked-in shirt stepped out. He stood well over six feet and exhibited a sense of authority.

“Hey now, folks, this tournament back here isn’t a spectator sport. Let these folks enjoy themselves. If you want to stay out here, then I will have to ask you to be nude as well.”

All heads whipped towards the tall man with shock and surprise. Amy watched with admiration; this man obviously must be the owner.

“It's about equalizing,” Amy heard the man say to the spectators, his voice carrying across the lawn. “If you're nude, and others aren’t, that's uncomfortable, it makes them feel either like they’re doing something wrong or like they’re the center of attention. When everybody's nude, everybody's equal. That's my main rule out here.”

The cornhole game was effectively halted now as they all watched the potential incident unfold. To Amy’s surprise, one of the men pulled off his shirt. At his sudden undressing, one of his friends immediately went inside, but the sole woman of the group also began undressing, starting by unbuttoning her shirt, and this spurred the remaining guys to begin taking off their clothes. The owner smiled and then turned to the door.

“Oh!” one of the undressing spectators hollered before the owner disappeared. “Can we have some more beers brought out here?”

“Sure,” the owner said, and he turned and went inside.

Hesitant to resume the cornhole game, Amy and the others were now spectators to the people above. Nobody shouted over to the other group, though it seemed introductions were being considered. What Amy noticed, though, was that the people on the porch, now nude—the three remaining men varying degrees of fit, and the woman as bountiful and as beautiful as Christina—began talking amongst themselves and looking out at the yard less. Then their beers came out, and they were in their element. The cornhole game resumed, and Amy felt a chord of community begin to weave.

Eventually, Amy and the others’ beer flight was empty, and Amy certainly didn't want any more. But she didn't necessarily want to leave, either. However, she found herself feeling a bit of heat exhaustion, and wouldn't have minded some water. The others agreed, and they ended the game. Amy and her team were ahead by a single point.

They found themselves on the porch with the others, who turned to greet them. One of them actually apologized for coming out and staring, and apologies were accepted. Hands were shaken, and Amy announced that she was going to get some water. Right as she had her hand on the door, Christina called out "wait!" and Amy paused, realized again what she was doing, and grinned back at her friend.

“I just don’t feel like putting my clothes back on,” she said. “Ever.” And she entered the brewery.

A Cold Night to be Naked

Erica was surprised when her friend Kiki agreed to her late-night suggestion: “We should totally run out into the hall naked.”

She didn’t know why she was surprised; Kiki was a kook. She should have expected her to go along with it. But as kooky as Kiki was, Erica perhaps felt a little bolder than her, since back at home, she had begun making money doing OnlyFans, something she kept from everybody, even her best friend Kiki, while Kiki was a straight-arrow girl, currently taking a job in Chicago where Erica was visiting her. Kiki was put up in a nice hotel while she learned the ropes of her new position, and Erica decided to keep her company. After a night of bar-hopping on a quietly bitter cold Sunday evening, they came back to the hotel room to chill and idly put something on the television, and it was almost midnight when Erica had her devious idea.

“That sounds fun!” Kiki exclaimed. “I bet nobody will even see us!”

Neither of them was drunk. Maybe a little loosened up. And worn down a bit by fatigue. But he excitement of the dare seemed to give Kiki newfound energy, and the nervousness inside Erica woke her up as well.

“Well, I wouldn’t count out the possibility of being seen by a camera,” Erica warned. “I didn’t look, but I’m sure there’s cameras on the hall.”

“Nobody ever looks at those things,” Kiki said. “And if they do, well, let ‘em have a show!”

We could wear masks, Erica thought, though they did not have any masks with them. She supposed they could tie their shirts around their faces, but they wore thick clothing because of the weather and the knots probably wouldn’t hold.

“You sure?” Erica said soberly, hardly able to believe that she was seriously considering going through with her own idea.

“Yeah, I don’t have anything to be ashamed of,” Kiki said.

Good attitude, Erica thought. But it was the reactions of others that were her concern. As unashamed as one could be, the shaming of someone else could still hurt. And that’s if the shaming didn’t turn into harassment or worse. The general public wasn’t capable of interacting with nudity, and Erica knew that very well. But to be willing to pose nude—and lasciviously—in front of a camera for thousands upon thousands of viewers—took more than confidence; it took the ability to not care. Erica wanted to ensure that her friend had that same ability.

“So what are we waiting for?” Kiki pressed. She was sitting on the edge of her bed, leaning forward with her hands on her knees, her eyes wide with excitement. She looked so innocently enthusiastic and diabolically naughty, both aspects enhanced by her thin build and her librarian's haircut. Erica had never seen her friend naked before, but she thought right then that Kiki would make a great OnlyFans girl. She had the personality for it.

“O-okay,” Erica said, betraying her nervousness. “You want me to go out and recon first?”

“Nah, it’s all or nothing,” Kiki said, and she stood, immediately pulling off her sweater.

She was ready.

Erica wasn’t surprised to see that Kiki wasn’t wearing a bra; she was petite right down to her chest, her breasts just faint impressions on her body, which still maintained a dainty femininity. In the blink of an eye, her jeans were down, and then, leaning back up to grasp her panties next, she was completely naked. All this took less than a second. Erica was floored. As often as she stripped naked on camera (or rather, posed with skimpy clothing, pulling her panties aside to flash herself), Erica was still unprepared for such careless and casual nudity in person. Strangely, there was something more pure about the way Kiki so shamelessly stood before her, compared to her OnlyFans outfits. Sighing, Erica unbuttoned her blouse and prepared to disrobe once again, for a much different audience: her friend. And hopefully, it would be only her.

Not that she was ashamed. But in a situation like this, she didn't have full control over what might happen. Her nerves were wound tight, and she experienced a thrill associated with getting naked that had long since been forgotten. The thrill, mixed with trepidation, of being seen by someone who didn't normally see her body, the fear of who may see her outside the room. Kiki looked at her opening blouse, revealing Erica’s full breasts contained in her bra, with a level of delight. Not sexual attraction (Kiki was completely straight, as far as Erica knew), but mutual excitement, the same thrill.

Erica tossed her blouse on the bed and undid her bra, and she felt the heft of her breasts drop slightly as they were freed, often as they usually were on the computer screen, broadcast from the privacy of her bedroom, and Kiki seemed almost in awe of them, but not envious. Then Erica quickly did away with the rest. She sat down on the bed and took off her thick socks. Kiki was still wearing her own, but immediately sat down and took hers off as well so they would match. And then they stood, two complete, polar opposites: Erica buxom, wide-hipped, and curvy, with nothing but smoothness between her legs, and Kiki demure, frail, and while just as pale, standing apart from Erica with the bristly darkness between her thighs. That would probably go well on OnlyFans, too; guys seemed to be liking bush again in the twenty-twenties.

“What’ll we do with our room keys?” Kiki asked.

“We’ll just prop the door open,” Erica said. “It’s not like we’ll be going far.”

“Awww.”

“Kiki... we can’t really expect to be able to run all over the hotel.”

“I would if I could,” Kiki replied. Maybe she was a little more wild than Erica had thought. Erica just rolled her eyes at her friend and then turned and led the way to the door. She could feel Kiki’s body heat as she crowded behind her, eager to get out and into the open. Never before had Erica felt such trepidation, never before had her heart climbed so high as she turned the doorknob, swung the latch-lock to block it from closing, and stepped out onto the hall.

Their room was at the end, positioned so that they could duck out naked and flee safely back inside without being vulnerable from both sides. To their backs was a large window that overlooked the parking lot ten storeys below. Erica was focused on the hallway that lay stretched out and empty before them, while Kiki glanced out the window as if eager to go outside. Not that she’d want to. It was definitely below freezing out there. No snow had come yet. The cold had come early that year.

Erica had her fill already. She felt terrifyingly vulnerable. She wanted nothing more than to duck back into the safety of their room. But Kiki’s body pressed against hers as she sought out the opposite idea.

“Let’s go to the end of the hall,” she said, biting her lip in excitement. Fair enough, Erica thought. That’s more or less what she had proposed. So both of them set forward, soon out of arm’s reach of their door. Each room they passed posed the danger of instantaneous discovery, and with each set of doors they passed, Erica’s nerves wound up tighter. Kiki, meanwhile, seemed on the verge of giddy laughter.

Ahead, an opening lay to the left where the ice machine was. Erica tensed as they passed it, but nobody was there. They were now halfway down the hall, which amazingly felt stuffy despite their lack of clothing. The heat must have been set high against the bitter cold outside. Erica looked over her shoulder and their room seemed impossibly far away, unreachable. Her fear increased.

The opposite end of the hall was now only forty feet away. They passed an elevator bay, also on their left. One more added danger. Eric didn’t like the way that Kiki looked at it so longingly. Finally, they reached the end of the hall, and Kiki peered out the other window overlooking the street below.

“Wow, nobody’s out there!” she remarked, and Erica shooshed her.

“Keep it down,” she said. She was bouncing on the balls of her feet now. If given the signal, she expected she could sprint and arrive at their room at light speed.

“The whole town is dead,” Kiki said in a lower voice.

“It’s after midnight,” Erica said flatly. “On a Sunday.” Christ, was Kiki really feeling to see if they could extend this dare to the outside? Wouldn't happen in a million years. At least up here, there weren't any cameras that Erica could see.

“Anyway, let’s head back.”

“I could stand here all night.”

“I bet you would.”

So that was it. Kiki was an exhibitionist. She wanted someone to catch her. That was part of the fun. Erica suddenly felt that maybe her OnlyFans career didn’t need to be such a secret, and maybe Kiki needed to be enlightened on what it’s like to be ogled by strangers. She complied with Erica, though, albeit slowly, much too slowly for Erica’s tastes. It was funny how her fear had turned more into annoyance by this point. It was almost like being naked in this strange setting wasn’t such a big deal. She actually liked how comfortable she felt, almost as if the heated air was a warm blanket that was wrapped uniformly around her body. She glided across the floor as if floating.

It wasn’t a big deal. Not really. The big deal was how people would react.

Kiki stopped. They were right in front of the elevators.

“Hey,” she whispered. “We should hop in the elevator.”

“No way. You do want to get caught, don’t you?”

“No, but the danger of getting caught is what makes it fun. I’m not stupid; I wouldn't try this in the daytime, but nobody’s up.”

Erica didn’t like how much they were chattering within earshot of the other doors.

“Just to another floor,” Kiki pushed. “Like to the top and back. Haven’t you ever heard of the naked elevator game?”

“No. Let me guess.”

Rambunctiously, Kiki reached out and hit the elevator button. Erica hissed between her teeth. Her first instinct was to hide in the ice room in case anybody was riding up, but of course they weren't; Kiki was the first person to call it into motion. She grinned over at Erica and hopped excitedly on her bare feet, making what little semblance of breasts she had ripple slightly. Then the elevator dinged and the doors opened.

“We know there’s gotta be a camera in there,” Erica said, but Kiki took her hand.

“I don’t care. Do you?”

Erica couldn't say anything. She didn't care, but she also did. She was pulled into the elevator and the doors closed, and they were essentially trapped. Then Kiki did the most shocking thing: she let go of Erica's hand and hit the button for the lobby.

“Kiki!”

All Kiki could do was grin and shrug.

“I can’t believe you,” Erica said. “I’m closing the doors the second we get to the bottom.”

That’s if somebody isn’t waiting to see them when they got there.

The short ride down was the height of terror, the anticipation of what was to come. When the elevator beeped and the doors opened, Erica let out a sigh of relief, as all that she saw was the empty coffee stand that sat across from the elevator in the lobby. To the left would be the receptionist’s desk, but if there was somebody there, they could not see. All they would assume was that the elevator was haunted and summoned itself. But then Kiki rushed out.

Erica bit back her yell this time and covered her mouth as she watched Kiki step into the lobby, turn a full circle, and then dart to the right, away from the receptionist’s area and towards the front of the lobby. The doors began to close, and Erica, breaking her promise to close them, stuck her hand through and rushed out.

She couldn't believe what she was doing. There was no receptionist present, at least for now. To her right, Kiki stood between two columns, hands prim at her sides, fingers pointed out in the pose of a forest nymph out of her element, looking up with wonder at the vaulted ceiling. She turned full-frontal to Erica, presenting her full bush in the full light. She had a look of childlike wonderment.

“Okay, we streaked the lobby,” Erica said. “You happy now?”

Kiki spun on her heels again, taking the lobby in.

"Let's explore,” she said. She finished her spin and moved to the side, thankfully out of view of the front door, beyond which the street was bathed in orange from the streetlamps. She wandered close to the roped-off bar entrance, and Erica rushed to be by her side, the carpet soft on her soles.

“Have your fun and then let’s go,” Erica hissed to her, but Kiki seemed to be in her own world. She circled the lobby, with Erica tight on her as if attached by a short tether, and they ended up at an empty seating area on the other side of a partition that separated it from the front door. There was not a sound. It was as if the hotel had been cleared out just for them to wander naked in. But Erica knew that at any moment, somebody could catch them and they would have nowhere to run. And what would be the consequences of that? She barely had time to consider the possibilities before Kiki was on the move again, heading towards the end of the partition back towards the elevators. Erica breathed a shaky sigh of relief. The ordeal was about to be over.

But Kiki hooked sharply to the right and considered the front door, so close.

“Kiki...”

Her naked friend was only ten or so feet away from the door. Then a few feet. Then she was right at it, peeking out into the night.

“Okay, Kiki, come on,” Erica urged, looking over her shoulder to make sure that there was nobody to hear her. “It’s not like we’re really gonna go outside.”

Kiki looked back at her and flashed a devilish grin.

“Says you,” she said, and then she turned and pushed open the door.

Erica almost yelled out. She covered her mouth again in shock as the door swung open and the first wave of cold air hit her. Kiki stood out on the sidewalk, taking her surroundings in. Then she looked suddenly to her right. Erica didn’t think, and before the door fell shut, she rushed out into the cold night.

Kiki was standing there in front of a doorman who was behind a podium, and he was all smiles, especially when the second naked girl stepped out for him.

"Well my-my, this makes my night!” the man exclaimed, and laughed heartily. Kiki stood with her arms squeezed together and her hands folded in front of her, not to cover herself out of embarrassment, but as a reflex from the harsh night air. Erica, however, despite making a living exposing herself, covered her bare genitals. The heat of embarrassment made it so the burning cold didn't faze her too much at first. Kiki turned and grinned at her. She was full of energy.

“I don’t believe you,” Erica told her, then glanced at the smiling doorman.

"I don’t believe it either,” he said, gazing upon them, but in a strange way, not leeringly. His eyes didn’t slowly pan up and down their bodies as would be expected. He just looked at them like he had struck a fortune. "I gotta do the night shift more often,” he said. Erica blushed, perhaps from the cold, and asked: "Ready to go in?”

“Yeah, don’t catch yourselves a cold,” the man said, shaking his head in amazement. Kiki, the deviousness still in her eyes, looked directly at Erica.

“Let’s see how far we can go.”

“Kiki n—”

But her friend turned on her heels and broke into a jog down the sidewalk. The man turned to watch her go, then looked back at Erica, shaking his head again.

“You better catch her,” he said with a laugh. “And don’t catch a cold!”

Erica muttered something and then ran after her friend, who was already well ahead of her. At her sides were dark windows. An old historical building across the street sat in shadow. Nobody was out to see them. Yet. Even on a Sunday, people ought to be walking around. She was lucky it was dead out. But she wasn't about to let Kiki lead her around all night. They would die of hypothermia for sure. The concrete was freezing on her bare feet.

Kiki turned the next corner, and for just a moment, Erica was alone, naked, cold and alone. She cursed her friend and considered running back to warmth and relative safety, but she wasn't about to let Kiki out there by herself. She hurried up, reached the corner, and turned to see the stretch of sidewalk, Kiki far ahead, and the halos of streetlamps offering no shadows to hide in. More distressingly, far away at the next intersection, she finally saw cars passing by. If any passengers just happened to look to the right, they may have been treated to an amazing sight. But the cars moved onwards. No traffic accidents occurred.

Kiki stopped halfway to the intersection and turned to make sure Erica was following. She reached her hand up high and waved. So surreal she looked, pale and naked, dwarfed by civilization. Her pubic hair was a wink in the distance. She looked not quite like a wild animal set loose to run amok on an unsuspecting town, but like someone brave and bold who spat in the face of the rules and taboos of society.

Then she crossed the street. Erica hurried her step, felt a powerful blast of cold wind against her, and Kiki disappeared on the other side, cutting through a parking lot.

“Jesus Christ,” Erica muttered, and looked back before cutting diagonally across the street. How many streetlight and business cameras were recording their adventure, she could only dare to imagine. Might she find security footage of their jaunt online sometime in the future? What would that mean for her OnlyFans career? Whatever happened, she had a sound mind to beat Kiki within an inch of her life.

The parking lot looked dangerous to walk on, and Erica was nervous about broken glass or worse. An empty and unlit gas station sat to the right, a dark courthouse to her left, and she weaved in between them to come out onto a larger section of parking lot bathed in cold and oppressing light, and much to her terror, at the edge of that light, Kiki walked, approaching—oh no— a food truck sitting there, bright lights illuminating it.

She froze in her tracks, arrested by her exposure, halted by her indecision. Kiki stepped up and entered dialogue with the man running the food truck, who Erica could not make out much detail of except that he was tan-skinned and his grinning teeth showed prominently. Erica could hear Kiki’s high, excited voice carry over the parking lot, and Erica’s paralysis broke. She felt the biting cold on her feet more sharply, the chill summoning shakes in her limbs, the terror of it all adding to her tremors.

She was nearly there when she saw the man look up at her. What he must have been feeling at that moment. When she arrived, in a daze, the man was laughing pleasantly.

“You girls are crazy,” he said, laughing still.

“Only one of us is, apparently,” Erica admonished. “You ready to freaking go?”

“You’re undressed, too,” Kiki said with a smile. “And don’t forget whose idea this was.”

Erica grumbled. She had no counterargument to that.

“You two will catch a cold, let me give you some hot cider, no charge.”

“Oh, that’s o—”

“It’s cold. Even in here, I can’t feel my face. I’m closing soon. Take some.”

Erica relented and Kiki seemed delighted at a treat, and the man turned and prepared their drinks.

“Besides,” he said, turning a second later with two steaming cups. “I don’t think you have any money on you.”

He slid their drinks through the serving window, leered only a little bit as Kiki and Erica took them, and Kiki smelled hers and looked over the rim of her cup at Erica.

“See? It was worth coming out; we got a treat.”

Erica just rolled her eyes.

“Well we can drink this on the way back,” she said. “And we are heading back; I don’t want to wake up tomorrow with a cold.”

Despite that thought, it was amazing how calmly she was treating the whole situation, even considering the pure physical discomfort. She sipped her cider. The warmth traveled through her body, which she did feel comfortable in; she stood a little taller, felt strangely more complete, and wasn’t even bothered by the admiring eyes of the food truck man, who seemed benign enough. Her main concern was not getting in trouble.

Then a voice behind her made her jump.

“Oh, man.”

She spun around. Stopped in their tracks nearby were two guys, bundled up for the cold in thick jackets and beanie caps, their eyes wide.

“Are you for real?” one of them asked, and Erica didn’t know what to say. An inner part of her wanted to run, but there was no point. They took a few steps closer, as Kiki faced them with a grin, her cup cradled near her chin, and the food truck guy was laughing in the background.

“Best food truck in town!” the man exclaimed.

“Man, now I can’t think of what to get,” one of the men said as he looked between the truck and the girls.

"Come on up,” the food truck guy said. "I have donner kabobs, I have hot cider, anything you like!” It was as if Erica and Kiki were his attraction, used to lure in customers. One of the men came up to the window to look at the menu hanging in back of the food truck, determined to treat the two naked young women as normal people they would typically meet on their nighttime jaunt through the city. Erica felt this was a cue to make their exit, but her feet remained rooted to the ground. Or frozen, rather. She managed to lift them alternately to ease the harshness of the pavement, and she felt the slight motion of her breasts and was hyper-aware of her full nudity.

The second guy looked at them sincerely and asked: "Aren't you cold?”

“Fuck yes we are,” Erica said. “At least I am.”

“Is this like a promotional stunt or something?”

“It’s something.”

“It was a dare!” Kiki said excitedly. “Her idea, too.”

The man just laughed, then added “fuckin’ crazy.” He hung on them a little bit, but then tried to tear his eyes away to see what he wanted from the food truck. Both men were remarkably composed, and Kiki was staring at their backs as they looked at their food options. Erica was about to get her friend’s attention, for she desperately wanted to be back in their room—and under a hot shower—but one of the men turned to them again and seemed sheepish when he asked:

“Hey, is it alright if we take a picture?”

Erica was unsure. Not just for herself, but for Kiki, who turned around excitedly and looked at Erica as if to ask permission.

“It’s on you,” Erica said, and almost added: I’m used to this. She almost thought about advertising her OnlyFans but thought against it. This scenario felt... different.

“Let's do it!” Kiki shouted.

And so Erica found herself preparing as if for a photoshoot. She moved near Kiki and thought about sitting her cider down somewhere as the guy pulled out his phone. His friend looked over his shoulder and was interested in the proceedings.

"Let's make it a group shot,” the guy with the phone said, motioning everybody in. Erica tensed a little bit; she didn't necessarily want to be close to the men, but if they groped her, she would throw her hot cider in their faces, so she kept hold of her drink.

"If you don't mind,” came the voice of the food truck owner, and Erica assumed they were about to be forbidden from taking photos, until he said: "Can you put my truck in the picture?”

“Sure, man,” said the guy with the phone, and Kiki, still holding her cider as well, moved so she stood between the two men. Erica, blushing, shivering now, too, sidled in next to Kiki, her body heat warming her, and the guys stood on either end. They all faced away from the food truck, towards the shadowed parking lot that Erica had walked through—Erica looking for other spectators to witness this event—and the guy with the phone held it up high and they all smiled as it flashed.

She surely blinked. She tried to smile and look careless, but the harshness of the cold night was seeping into her bones. She didn’t want it to seep into the photo as well, making her look uncomfortable and perhaps casting a different light on the photo. The guy took a couple more and she maintained her posture and smile, and then he lowered the phone and said thanks. None of them groped either her or Kiki. Only their sides gently brushed together.

“Alright, we better get back,” Erica told Kiki. Nobody protested their decision. In fact, they supported it.

“Go get in and get warm,” one of the guys said. “Thanks for making our night.”

Something about that warmed Erica’s heart, though not enough to keep her from trembling. Before she and Kiki could make their exit, however, the food truck owner was calling them and the guys over.

“Can you send me that picture?” he asked the two men, then, looking at Erica specifically, he asked: “If I may.”

Erica thought for a moment, though each moment chilled her to the bone.

“I guess so...” she managed. She wanted to ask what he—or the two guys—were going to do with the photo. She knew it was inevitable that it would be seen by many. The question was whether she or Kiki were okay with that.

"I may want to use it for my truck. Everybody will want to come then! And you two are certainly welcome back.”

Kiki was excited at the prospect, so Erica nodded. “Sure.”

The owner and the two men were in the middle of exchanging numbers as Erica finally turned to leave, with Kiki in tow. They had no phones to receive a picture, and she didn’t feel like giving out her number, though as they left the parking lot, she thought that maybe she should have name-dropped her OnlyFans page.

“Wasn’t that a blast?” Kiki asked Erica as they walked out onto the next street.

"I suppose so,” Erica said. "As long as you're okay with them having your picture and sharing it with the world.”

“Yeah sure, I don’t care.”

“What if it comes back to your job?”

“Why should I be ashamed? If they find out and fire me, so be it. Maybe I’ll just be a cam girl if that happens.”

Erica bit back a comment of encouragement. Baring yourself for money wasn’t something to be done lightly, though she was encouraged by Kiki’s confidence.

“Aren’t you cold, though?” she asked Kiki next.

“A little. The cider sure helped. We can go back, though.”

“Damn straight.”

Their ciders were almost finished before they got to the corner of the street where their hotel was, and they both chucked their cups into a trash can there and kept walking. The night was dead, except for the doorman who was still there, smiling at their return.

“Man, it’s been almost twenty minutes, better get in!” he said.

"Is it safe in there?” Erica asked, hugging herself. The doorman stepped away from his podium and peeked through the glass doors, then stepped back and said: "Yeah, go for it.”

His eyes followed them as they walked past and he shook his head one last time. He didn’t bother asking for a picture, which he predictably should have. His parting words were: “I sure hope I don’t get in trouble.”

The overpowering warmth of the hotel lobby was like a godsend, and without looking for possible spectators, Erica rushed towards the elevator doors, with Kiki close behind. They didn't have to wait more than a second for the elevator to let them in. The residual cold on their skin burned against he embrace of the heat, and their bodies could not stop moving. When the elevator doors opened on their floor, they nearly burst out of it. Erica had been so focused on getting back to their room that she hadn’t noticed that her friend had fallen behind. She stopped so that she could catch up (albeit slowly).

“Let’s drink it all in,” Kiki said in a considerate, low voice. “This is the home stretch.”

“We’re lucky we didn’t get arrested,” Erica said. “Though we still may catch heat tomorrow if somebody looks at that security footage.”

“Or they’ll look at it and never say a word,” Kiki said. “Boy, I’m going to stay naked all night.”

“You can,” Erica allowed. “But in our room.”

“Deal.”

Amazingly, Erica looked forward to remaining naked, too. She had broken the ice with Kiki now, and the idea no longer seemed weird. She even almost felt a little twinge of regret, having to retreat to the safety of their room. Without the harshness of the cold, walking naked in the hotel halls was both thrilling and liberating. She now wished she and Kiki could walk on every floor in the nude.

That thought vanished when a door ahead opened and an old man peeked out. Erica’s heart seized, and the man’s eyes widened, but Erica did not flee. They had to pass him to get to their room.

“Nice night,” she said, and Kiki grinned and waved at the man, and then they just walked casually along to the end of the hall, each of them making their behind sway a little bit extra as they walked, and their door was just as they had left it, propped open, with no evidence of anybody having intruded while they were gone.

As the door closed, the man blinked in amazement at where the two naked girls had disappeared, until his wife called from inside the room.

“What was it, honey?” she asked.

“Oh, it was nothing. But I think we picked the right hotel to stay at.”

Then he went back into the room, and the hall fell into silence, with no evidence of what happened there that night, besides the possibility of nude phantoms on a security feed somewhere. But their image found its way elsewhere, printed and taped up on the front of Serji’s Kabobs, where people pointed and commented at the two completely nude girls standing between two completely dressed and bundled young men, and the owner smiling in the background. Hardly anybody took offense to the photo, but instead smiled at it as a curiosity, and it brought much business to the humble little food truck, and some people made repeat visits in hopes of meeting the two naked girls for themselves.

The photo still hangs there to this day.

The Naked Video Game

Amidst the rolling decapitated heads and geysers of blood that are featured so nonchalantly in so many video games, it is undeniable that nudity is still a rarity, and when it does exist in video games, it typically grants an Adults Only rating. Yet times are changing, and a demand for nudity in games is increasing.

Not just a demand for titillation (that is fulfilled by modders of PC games and their endless sex and nudity patches), but for good, honest, non-sexual nudity. In defiance, some would prefer to see it without a “Mature” or “Adults Only” rating attached to it. This is a subset of gamers, the young nudist enthusiasts who don’t go to private resorts but still preach the same tenets that die-hard nudists preached.

There were some, when The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild was released, who were excited at the prospect of skinny dipping, which early previewers said you could do. Alas, the hero Link’s “naked” state was just in his shorts. Some mourned not being able to run fully naked and free through the tall grass of the endless fields featured in the game. To those people, others would reply “You really want to see Link naked, don’t you?” to which the nudist-spirited people would explain that it’s more than that. It wasn’t something a Puritan-raised person could understand.

The game Cyberpunk 2077 seemed to introduce unobstructed nudity finally, advertising a robust character creation system that went all the way down to styling your character’s genitals. But it was all for promotion, as it turned out one could not walk around completely naked in the game. They could, technically, except their character ended up wearing skin-toned underwear, giving the appearance of being nude, but also rendering the genital customization pointless. If they had allowed the character to be nude whenever they wanted, the game would have been rated AO (Adults Only) by the Entertainment Software Ratings Board (ESRB).

There was one well-known game that featured the ability to be nude, and that was Conan Exiles, talked about occasionally in nudist gamer circles. But gamers wanted more, and video game producers were beginning to notice. The fact that there were communities of nudist gamers who linked up online or in-person to play games and enjoy social nudity became visible to corporate heads as they were shown various online communities dedicated to casual nudity. It seemed there were more young people—Millennials, Gen-Xers, and even some Gen Z—who were nudists. There was an entire market to be catered to. And thus, the wheels began to turn...

The first game that appeared out of this new directive was called “The Naked Caveman,” and it came from an unlikely source: a game developer called “Fourth Wave Games,” run by a hip, preppy young man named Chad Nickerson. The game surprised everybody because Fourth Wave specialized in massive multiplayer role-playing games with massive budgets and the most advanced visuals. But “The Naked Caveman” was a classic side-scrolling adventure in the same vain as old games like “Joe & Mac” and “Chuck Rock.” It was completely out of style for Fourth Wave Games, and some said the pixel-art game was a sign of low effort on part of the studio. That wasn’t the problem that nudist gamers had with the title, though.

The titular character, The Naked Caveman, lived up to his name, waltzing around in the buff across the screen with exaggerated, cartoony movements, including the bobbing movement of his erect penis, which never lost its girth. The player would navigate through jungle levels, jumping on top of saber-toothed tigers and giant mosquitoes, but would also come across cavewomen, or “cave babes,” as the game’s website called them, with bright blonde, perfectly combed hair (in contrast to the caveman’s hairy and unkempt appearance) and animatedly bouncing, over-sized breasts capped with large pink areolas and erect nipples. Upon passing these cave babes, The Naked Caveman (or “Nick” as some people began calling him) would pant like a Looney Tune character and his penis would bob up and down. Chad Nickerson almost put in sex animations between “Nick” and the cave babes, but those were left on the cutting room floor.

Naturally, this was not what the nudists wanted. “The Naked Caveman was lambasted by the communities it was trying to cater to, and video game journalists weren’t too happy about it, either. It proved popular, however, with a portion of the gaming community—those who loved classic side-scrolling games and who were also irrevocably horny. They ate it up. Some compared the character to Leisure Suit Larry, the famous lewd computer game hero from the 90s, while others amusedly compared Nick the naked caveman to the Hanna-Barbara character Captain Caveman, laughing at the idea of him shouting the game’s title in the same way the old cartoon character announced his name.

The game didn’t last long on some online stores. Despite waves of hentai games available, The Naked Caveman was just too much. One could hardly have called it an honest try, but Chad Nickerson thought it was. Or at least that’s what he claimed in public statements. The game had been preceded by a long committee process of designing a nudist video game icon, in the same way that Sonic the Hedgehog was made to one-up Mario, or how the ill-fated Bubsy character was created to beat both mascots, retaining none of their charm and all of their obnoxiousness. The big-heads at Fourth Wave Games just didn’t understand their audience at all. Chad Nickerson took the game’s sudden drop-off in stride and went back to supporting his current MMO. But this would be far from the last attempt to appeal to nudists.

The next attempt came from a Japanese company, Nihonju, a small developer who made bare-bones 3D games in mimicry of big studio titles, but with a tenth of the features or game size. They made a steady profit margin churning out such shovelware, and their latest offering was called “Adventures in Nakedtown.”

“Isn’t that the name of a P.A. Choi Book?” a gamer said in a video call on a nudist gaming Discord group.

There were about six of them on the video call, two women and four men, their nude profiles arranged in a grid. The two women’s chests were mostly obscured, but the more constantly moving of the two often adjusted herself and let her breasts show. None of the participants stood up to reveal their whole bodies. They made these calls regularly as they hung out online and played games.

“Wonder if he had anything to do with it?” another replied.

This game was not in fact made in collaboration with the naked fiction author mentioned, but was the brainchild of the head of Nihonju’s American branch, Stevie Layman. The game, it turned out, could not be widely distributed in Japan, but was perfect for the nudist push being seen in the American video game industry. Layman, a fake-tan-sporting, business-suit-sans-tie-wearing, sexual-allegation-denying, self-perceived playboy of the video game industry, championed “Nakedtown” and tried to make it the next big thing. The members of the nudist gamer Discord group were trying it out for the first time, and they were quickly growing dismayed.

One user—“Ron76”—streamed his playthrough for everybody else. He took control of a main character named Rachelle Sujo, a spindly redheaded girl donning denim shorts and a yellow t-shirt, and the setting was a video game staple: the sleepy rural Japanese town. Ron76 was free to wander the community and the surrounding forests, talk to other characters, and do whatever; a sandbox game. And included in the catalog of actions was undressing. Rachelle hints to the player right away, as the game starts in her bedroom, with a text box of dialogue (Nihonju did not have the budget for voice acting): “Hmmm, I should take off my clothes and hop in the shower.” Naturally, Ron undressed Rachelle immediately, though he did not lead her into the shower. He led her out of her room, into the house, and out onto the front lawn. The game was called “Adventures in Nakedtown,” afterall.

But none of the other characters were naked. Just Rachelle, with visible blush on her face and a cowering posture, covering up her privates until Ron commanded her to move again, revealing detailed fire-red pubic hair. The player was free to rotate the camera dynamically around Rachelle as in almost any other 3D game, but of course with added reason, zooming up on her adolescent-looking body, intimately realized more so than the bare-bones Unity-engine village constructed for the game. The player was free—and encouraged—to interact with other characters to get a reaction from them, some shocked, some embarrassed, and, in the case of an old, stocky, grinning businessman, purely lustful.

“Yeah, this feels like a P.A. Choi game,” one of the women said. “I honestly don’t like him, a lot of his stuff is pervy.”

The ultimate goal of the game was to take the player through a series of exhibitionistic challenges, including seducing young men in the hot springs to get naked and bathe with Rachelle, or marching through the main street of the town, until by the end, Rachelle is known as “the town’s naked girl.” It was pure exhibitionist fantasy, and caused a lot of groans of “oh, Japan” from people on the internet, citing the country’s stereotype of perverted and sometimes downright questionable media. But it was all Stevie Layman’s push, and a handful of lucky Japanese 3D modelers got to slave over sculpting Rachelle’s body and staring at it all day. Stevie Layman was so in love with the character and the concept that he was sure nudist gamers would fall in love, too, but when he got the third degree in esoteric reviews, he slid into obscurity again, and so did the game, bare-bones as it was, though it had a small dedicated player base for many years.

Then a little game came out of nowhere. It was distributed for free on a gaming forum and appeared to be a 2D top-down adventure game in the style of Zelda and Pokemon. It was called “Mabel’s Quest.”

The game opened up in Mabel’s bedroom, quickly painting the setting for her: young woman in her twenties, jobless, depressed, still living with her parents. “Oh, it’s one of those games,” one early player commented, referencing the tendency for indie games to deal with semi-autobiographical themes of depression and anxiety.

Mabel starts the game clothed, but a quick button command takes off her outfit. The simplistic pixel art and the top-down view minimized the leeriness of “Adventures in Nakedtown,” though vague details were still there: two pink pixels on an otherwise featureless chest, and a couple pixels of brown signifying pubic hair. But it blended in with her character model, with her brown shaded hair that appeared to be shoulder length, and two vertical strips for her cutesy, cartoony eyes.

The members of the nudist gamer Discord were giving Mabel’s Quest a try, and were getting a wary feeling that this would be just a low-poly version of the last game they played. The setup seemed identical. Again, Ron76 streamed it for the room and immediately undressed (Mabel, that is; he was of course already nude). Upon undressing, a green meter appeared on the right side of the screen, with a rising and falling bar of color. It was labeled:

CONTENT-

MENT

Ron navigated naked Mabel—turning her back to the viewer and flashing a cutely-rendered butt—to her bedroom door, and the screen transitioned to the next room of the house. By the time Ron got Mabel to a kitchen, another character was standing at the sink, presumably Mabel’s mother, though the cutesy art style made all the characters look the same age.

“Mabel! What in the HELL are you doing walking around naked?” A text box read, and Mabel bowed her head and walked off the screen without Ron’s control. He was jettisoned back into the bedroom, and the Contentment meter dipped. Mabel’s sprite then moved to the bed and she threw herself on it in a lively animation, plopping down on the mattress, still nude, and it was there that Ron was stuck, unable to move.

“Okay, this is a little different,” he said.

“Can’t you move?” one of the other guys asked.

“No. Think I soft-locked it?”

“It’s probably a bug.”

As they watched, the Contentment meter rose and fell in a rhythm, almost like a heartbeat, and the longer Mabel sat on the bed, the higher the bar climbed, until Ron was finally able to move her off her bed. The Contentment meter now fluttered like a rapid heartbeat, but stayed near the top. It was almost as if staying naked kept the meter up. Ron knew better than to go back out in the hall again. He went to the discarded set of clothes—represented by a collection of gray and brown pixels on the floor—and interacted with it. The Contentment meter dipped slightly, but Mabel was free to go back out into the rest of the house again.

Talking to the mother—who scolds Mabel for her exhibitionism—caused the meter to dip slightly. Talking to her father—who pressures her to find a job—made it dip more. Then Ron navigated Mabel outside.

In the vibrant front lawn, the Contentment meter rose and fell nervously, sometimes reaching great heights and sometimes reaching great lows. It was nerve-wracking and distracting as Ron explored the little town. Mabel’s house was isolated, set back from the rest of the buildings, and the town itself was very populated; hustling and bustling, with NPCs (non-playable characters) running all around.

On the opposite end of the map, to the north of Mabel’s house, was a forest. There, in the presence of nature, the Contentment meter calmed, staying halfway full but slowly, incrementally climbing.

“Makes me want to go take a walk in the woods,” Ron said.

“I only walk in the woods naked,” one of the other viewers replied.

“Right,” Ron said, and he hit the undress button. Mabel was naked in a flash, her clothes discarded on the fallen leaves of the forest floor, and the Contentment meter steadily climbed. The message was clear.

Players across the internet were quickly discovering Mabel’s Quest and exploring the forest naked as the Discord group commenced with doing. There were many little surprises to be found, from foxes, secret caves, a swimming hole, and occasionally, a bystander. On encountering what was styled to look like an old fisherman, a new meter appeared on the left side of the screen, this one red, it read:

FEAR

The speechless man (“...”) held Mabel in an almost petrified state, making her move like she was walking through mud, until she escaped the zone of fear and was able to flee. Getting to her destination farther north on the map required sneaking around the fisherman and turned Mabel’s Quest into a stealth game.

Other players tried exploring the town as one would in Adventures in Nakedtown, first leaving the house with clothes on to escape the admonishments of Mabel’s parents, and then, once outside, stripping completely down and leaving her clothes on the sidewalk. Running free through the town was fun for many until they ran into their first NPC, who screamed in a panic and excitedly requested of Mabel if she was in trouble. This teleported Mabel back to her house, to the shaking heads of her shaming parents, and then transitioned her to her room, where the Contentment meter tanked and she remained immobile for so long that many indeed thought the game was bugged as the Discord group had assumed. But after a few moments, Mabel was able to be controlled, albeit very slowly, and attempting to exit her room initiated a head-shaking animation from Mabel’s sprite. The humiliating experience apparently left her too drained or too ashamed to leave her room. It essentially halted progress of the game. Activities like walking circles around the room or sitting in front of Mabel’s TV and letting her play a video game (a game-with-a-game) raised the Contentment meter in small doses. Doing these activities while undressed increased the rate at which the meter climbed, and with time, players were able to escape Mabel’s room and continue on their adventures.

As the number of players increased, the amount of secrets found increased as well. A day-night cycle was proven to make certain situations happen at a particular location only at certain times, such as the appearances of certain types of animals (or even mythical beasts at night), and if the player was lucky, they might stumble upon a group of nude sunbathers in a hard-to-find wooded spot by the river. There, Mabel’s fear meter climbs high, leading most players to spy on the sunbathers from behind a rock. But brave players were rewarded with the game’s “ending,” wherein you introduce yourself to the nudists, and they invite you to swim and sunbathe with them. The Contentment meter fills to the brim, and the game essentially finishes with Mabel having found her community, though after the “thank you for playing,” message, the player is allowed to resume hanging with her new friends and continue to explore the forest. Even when dressing and going back into town, the Contentment meter remains full. Only when talking to Mabel’s parents about getting a job does the meter dip, and on the left, a flicker of fear. For the players that got this far, this essentially started the whole game over for them, and they continued exploring, especially in town now. Some were daring enough to try to undress in the streets again once their Contentment meter was full. It didn’t teleport them back to Mabel’s room this time, but the result was still unpleasant. Mabel, with full control, now had to flee from haters and gawkers as the Fear meter steadily climbed. Some players were not able to get back to their clothes and ran for the safety of the woods to repair their health. Then it was a matter of walking into town at night to find Mabel’s clothes and get dressed, and during this segment, the fear and contentment meters competed with each other.

So for many, the game had infinite replayability. And as it got more popular, people were able to communicate with the creator on the forum where the game was posted, a creator only known by the handle “MMM...” (ellipsis included), who chimed in occasionally to give updates, and revealed that a new download of the game contained a new feature that shouldn’t be spoiled. The new feature was immediately discoverable upon players re-entering the game and spawning in Mabel’s room: on her desk was the blocky sprite of a camera. Interacting with it prompted a text box reading “I should go out and take some pictures!” Now players were experiencing the game with fresh eyes, looking for spots to take photos. Most attempts were met with “that doesn’t look very photogenic,” or a simple “that’s pretty!” But eventually a player unlocked a reward. An attempt to take a photo of the treeline to the forest where Mabel so often cavorts around nude proved successful, and the screen faded into a full, detailed pixel art image of the sleepy-looking woods, with the caption “My favorite place.”

Little by little, people uncovered other picture rewards: A photo of Mabel’s town with NPCs happily walking along, the inside of her house, a forest trail. Some figured the game’s creator was slowly adding these images, as the game would update every few weeks or so. These quiet little updates made sense; each image looked like it would take a while to create. While pixelated in the style of an old 16-bit game, the images were inspired and evocative and filled with detail, true digital paintings. It was obvious a lot of love and creativity was going into this game.

And then someone unlocked what they felt was the ultimate reward: hanging out at the swimming hole, the player investigated with the camera and succeeded in unlocking another picture, and this one was a selfie, a selfie of Mabel nude on the shores of the swimming hole, holding out the camera above her head and grinning. Here she was realized in more detail than the little chubby character sprite, realized as if in pointillism: a young, smiling woman, delicate shading around her chest, slivers of sunlight on the surface of the water.

This turned off a few nudist gamers, as it seemed to encourage lust by “rewarding” the player with softcore smut. But others commented that the image was no different than an innocent photo from a nude beach. There was nothing lurid about it. It was just a happy girl by a swimming hole. Reflection on the dichotomy between non-sexual nudity and sexual attraction was had in many remarkably civil discussions, and meanwhile, people kept playing.

In a house right on the side of the highway, alone on its own half-acre lot, a young woman sweated in front of her laptop. In front of her she had a tax form that she needed to fill out. She was not used to adulting and relied on her father for many things. But now it was time for her to show that she could pull her own weight. She entered her full name—Mannie Elizabeth Maple—and tabbed over to the next field in the long form, a form that would ensure she would receive royalty payments, because she had just been contacted by a game studio that wanted to publish her baby, “Mabel’s Quest.” Just filling out the form felt like sticking her head out of a gopher hole. She was content with hiding in the shadows, known only on one forum as “MMM...” (swapping her middle initial with another “M” for the sake of a pun). She didn’t want to be famous for her work, it was just something she wanted to do. But if handed the opportunity to make money off of her creation, Mannie could not imagine turning it down.

The idea had come to her because of all the industry and community interest in a game that featured non-sexual nudity. Mannie thought it was an interesting idea and wanted to put something positive into the world. She was an avid gamer and had always fantasized about being a developer. She went to school for game design, but dropped out because of the pressure. She was on several medications. She lived with her father, who worked at the local mechanic’s shop and would be fine financially if he didn’t have Mannie to also provide for. Her mother had died when she was a preteen. Sometimes she could see the emotional strain on her father’s face, but she wasn’t sure he could tell just how deep her own scars went. When he would come home for the day and find her in front of her computer, developing Mabel’s Quest, he would chuckle and say “playing on the computer, still, huh?” not knowing that what she was playing with was their next meal ticket.

At first she made a game where all the characters were nude. That was the important message, afterall: that nudity should not be a big deal and that people should be able to relax and socialize in the nude. She created a whole town full of naked NPCs in perfect harmony. But the problem was that the game was just boring. There was no conflict or danger. Granted, games like Animal Crossing and Stardew Valley proved that not all games needed to be stressful. But Mannie’s game needed something. So she scrapped the idea, was on the precipice of just tossing the whole thing aside and going back to being depressed, when she got the idea to re-create in this game her rural childhood of exploring the forests and caves, the same way that Shigeru Miyamoto was inspired to create The Legend of Zelda from his childhood adventures. It would also be a way to challenge stereotypes; girls liked playing in the dirt, too. That was a large part of Mannie’s childhood. Because of the nature of the game, however, Mannie decided to age up her main character and explicitly state that she was twenty, just to avoid extra controversy. Her character lived with her parents and had depression and anxiety. Not much different than her current state.

The only help she had with the game was for the music, and she tapped the talents of an online friend of hers who made chiptunes, and he was happy to create several tracks for her, free of charge.

She did not have personal experience with nudism to put into the game. Except for one memory. She did go walking naked in the woods once, before she lost her mother. She was old enough now—and the area was small and rural enough—that she could go out adventuring on her own, and as she got deep into the forest at the back of her house, sensing that she was the only soul for a mile besides birds and squirrels, she had the sudden desire to throw off all her clothes. The distant hint of a trickling creek increased this desire, though swimming was not what motivated her. It was something else. She wanted to run down the trail without a stitch on, just another animal of the forest. So she did. She took off everything—even her shoes—and did just as she desired: she ran down the beaten forest trail with her arms outstretched, slicing through the breeze. It was the single most joyous moment she had ever experienced even up until the present.

Until she got to the creek. Eager to jump into the chill water, she dug her bare heels into the dirt at the sight of an old man standing there fishing. He turned his head at the noise and his mouth fell open in shock. It only took a second for Mannie’s paralysis to break, and she scampered up the hill like a scared deer (white tail and everything). She sprinted back down the forest trail for where she left her clothes, lungs ready to explode by the time she got to them, worry overtaking her mind. She had ascertained that he wasn’t chasing her, but would he tell someone? She never went back into the woods after that, and that moment was probably the starting point of her anxiety, so she put that moment in the game. She almost didn’t, worrying it would present the fearful idea of an even worse situation. She even toyed with presenting that worse situation—the very real danger of a lone young girl happening upon a stranger—but decided against it. The innocent encounter as presented in the game was enough to sell the idea of Fear. And it was fear she now experienced again, fear about what her future would be like, as she completed the tax form, feeling like she was naked in that forest again.

When coming up with the idea of the game’s “ending” with the nude sunbathers—the complete opposite side of the spectrum from the encounter with the fisherman—Mannie read up on nudists, went through various subreddits, some of which just seemed to be an excuse to post naked pictures, but others were dedicated purely to discussion. She found out about the nude gamers group, and even joined its Discord with a secret handle, but she did not participate in discussions. She was just there to observe, and she observed them talking about her game positively and it filled her with pride. Sometimes she saw active icons in the server’s voice channel and knew that its members were on video calls, something she could not fathom doing. But in her brainstorming for new ideas for the game—and realizing she could create more detailed pixel art as Easter eggs—she got inspired, and stood from her desk, and for the first time in eight years, she got undressed for a reason other than bathing.

In front of the mirror hanging on her closet door, Mannie removed her oversized T-shirt. She kept her face forward so she could see herself revealed and winced at how pale and vulnerable she looked, at how her small boobs looked like deflated footballs. She rarely saw her full visage, as the mirror in the bathroom was a tiny medicine cabinet above a little porcelain sink. Her house was not a very modern one. It was not her childhood house, but somehow Mannie and her father managed to move into an even older one.

She slid down her long-legged pajama bottoms (her usual home attire) and looked at herself in just her underwear, like an auditioning (and failing) underwear model, before she stripped those down as well, and stared at where the sun didn’t shine and where clippers never touched.

She had wondered how detailed to make Mabel’s nude sprite. She didn’t want to make it too vulgar-seeming, but she didn’t want to pretend that human anatomy didn’t exist, either, so she stayed true to life (and to her appearance) and decorated Mabel with several pixels of varying shades of brown to vaguely imply her pubic hair, which now, as she stared at herself, seemed less lurid than when she was still wearing bottoms. She stepped closer to her reflection as if to embrace herself, and opened the closet door to position the mirror to point towards her bed. Then she took her phone from her desk and sat on the corner of the mattress, pretended she was on a boulder in the middle of a rushing creek, and took two pictures, one a selfie, and the other a shot of her full reflection in the mirror, where, with her legs crossed, she looked rather alluring.

She had to minimize the window on her laptop screen when she heard her dad’s feet stomping through the house. She was three-quarters of the way done with her pixel art self-portrait, carefully re-creating herself block-by-block over her translucent photo, which she sent to her laptop via Bluetooth. It was almost like tracing, but there was still artistry in it, for after she placed all of her squares, she would turn off the layer containing the photo, and find herself adjusting the shading and hue of individual pixels until the eye could complete them into the suggested image. That was how she had done the images she put in the game so far, using random photos of beautiful nature spots as reference. For this one, she would have to create a scenery around her portrait, and she would probably use a photo of a creek in the same manner, though in order to match the angle of her selfie, she would have to use her imagination more and bend what references she used, or even create the scenery from scratch. It was going to be a lot of work.

Her dad’s shadow passed by her partially open door and then there were the respectful three raps of his knuckles.

“Yeah.”

He pushed the door open and peeked his head in.

“Playin’ on that computer, huh? Did you have dinner yet?”

“No.”

“Really? You’re getting sucked into whatever it is you’re doing. Why don’t you come out and help me make something?”

“Okay,” she said, needing a break from her work. Her eyes were sore.

That had been almost a year ago. Now she was too nervous to tell her father anything until she saw her first royalty payment. Then she would spring it on him. Telling him too soon would either jinx the whole thing, or he would turn his nose up at the idea of her making money from where she always sat and ruin her spirits. She had to wait. But maybe it would be good to tell him, for she might need his help and advice. For instance, if she was going to be making money, she would have to pay her musician friend, as he deserved a cut as well. It would be like he was an employee. These were things Mannie had never faced before, and she didn’t want to step on any land mines. If she had a fear meter, it would be bobbing up and down right now in concert with contentment. She was very content with her game’s success, not so much with how some people liked it from the wrong place in the darkest part of their hearts. Before she did her pixel self-portrait, there had been lots of lewd fan art on dedicated web pages. When her image was put in the game (if only they knew it was a self-portrait), it was drooled over. That actually kind of gave her a little more pride, as she wasn’t particularly happy with her reflection at first. But that image found its way on the same sites as the lewd art, right alongside it. It made Mannie sigh, but she followed it up with a roll of the eyes. She couldn’t control how people saw her or what they did with her image, but at least that image, compared to the lewd fan art, was not grotesquely exaggerated or sexual. In a way, it invalidated all the other art. And the final image she made sought to cement the message that Mabel’s Quest was not a porn game. It was her final image, and it took the longest. She made a panoramic digital painting of Mabel (another selfie; another angle) and all the friends she had made by the river. This one was the hardest, where she had to reference and place as layers random photos of nudists at angles that needed to make sense in correlation to each other. Others she had to create partially from scratch. She found herself becoming a pointillism artist. She spent months on the image, and it would be a final reward for people who wanted to try to “beat” the game again. Only a few found it. A lot more people would discover it when the game was distributed in online stores, where brand-new players would experience the polished game for the very first time. Fear and Contentment mixed into Excitement.

She sighed, and the meters un-entwined, and the gulf of what she could not control was endless. She needed to find the things that she could control. Like whether or not to tell her father yet. Right now he was at work. She stood from her computer station.

Sunlight came through the kitchen window as she went for some water, and she looked out at their bare backyard, squared in by a saggy and short chain-link fence. Bordered by trees, it was hidden from any neighbors, not that there were any close by, except for on the other side of the far treeline, where if she were to explore as she did in her past, she would come out onto someone else’s backyard. But remaining in her yard, she would have enough privacy, unless someone pulled off the highway and walked around to the back of the house. She smiled at her idea. She took off her clothes right there in the kitchen, hanging them on the back of one of the wooden chairs at the little square table where she and her dad had their meals.

The screen door flew open and Mannie came down the tiny concrete staircase in the full excited gait of a dog being let out. She dug her heels into the dry grass—as she had when she had encountered the fisherman long ago—at the sound of cars rushing by on the highway out front. Carefully stepping forward, she could peek around the corner and see the sun-reflected windows of the vehicles that came by. Could they see her? The sun scorched her shoulders, a feeling she had never had before. She stepped out into the center of the lawn. Her Fear meter crept up, but then she dropped to her knees and threw herself onto her back, now safe from being seen. She outstretched her arms as if to make a snow angel, looked up at the blue, clear sky, and sighed with Contentment.

Nude Mod Remastered

No, you don't understand. Chance typed in on the gaming forum he was part of. You have the absolute freedom to make the model however you want and you PUT CLOTHES on her?

He was on a discussion thread about PC game mods, specifically nude mods, which were ever-so-popular.

Nah, dude, the other poster replied. It’s hotter to put them in skimpy and slutty outfits.

The mod they were arguing about was for the remake of Resident Evil 3, where modders saw fit to give the protagonist, Jill Valentine, triple-Z tits, and a bikini made out of nothing but string. Even though Chance was a big tit man, the augmentation to the already well-endowed Jill Valentine was a bit too much, leaning more into comedy, and the minimalist bathing suit, while revealing ninety-nine percent of her body, left him still wanting to see her in full. The beauty of the body deserved to be bared to the world, and if you could mod a hot video game character to be completely naked, then why wouldn't you?

It’s the skimpy clothes that make it more hot, one of the posters argued, and Chance couldn’t agree. He wanted to see Jill Valentine nude, as he already frequently did with what he considered a very classy mod, just removing her clothes and nothing else, no ridiculous costume additions like high heels or fetish gear. He had a small epiphany then, and almost felt a sense of moral superiority, as much of a shameless horndog as he was. There was something more pure about simple nudity vs. the sexualized costumes that these other gamers were arguing for. It was almost as if the clothing tainted the body, while the body by itself was inherently beautiful. But the chronic masturbators on the other end of the connection were only concerned with exaggerating the body. Chance ended that argument in a stalemate.

*****

“Are you seriously fucking going to be playing video games all night?”

Chance's girlfriend, Ja'Nae, stood in the door frame of his office with her hand on her hips, a slim, form-fitting dress accentuating her voluptuous proportions. “There will probably be guys drooling over me tonight and you're gonna be here just pressing buttons.”

“Whatever, babe, you know I don’t like Fiona. I’d rather be with Jill here.”

Jill Valentine, in her tight blue tank top, held her gun at the ready alongside her companion, Carlos Olivera, on the title screen of RE3 that Chance had booted up on his extra-wide monitor. Ja'Nae chuckled.

“Alright, well have fun jorking it by yourself. Hope some bull doesn’t claim me tonight.”

“You wouldn’t dream of cheating on me, babe.”

Ja’Nae chuckled again.

“I can dream a lot, chump.”

Chance snorted at that, and Ja’Nae regarded him scornfully and then turned to walk out of the hall, leaving Chance with one last goodbye glance at her phat booty undulating under her dress. Well he had clapped his nuts against that booty countless times. Tonight, he was going to look at the beautiful booty of Jill Valentine as he followed her in the over-the-shoulder perspective of Resident Evil 3. He made sure his mod was loaded and then he grabbed for his bong.

*****

Chance was good and ripped, and fearfully walking down a corridor as Jill Valentine, ass rippling, the apartment building licked with flames as she escaped the fire. There was a raw, thrilling feeling to playing as a nude-modded woman in a perilous situation. Why was she nude? How would other characters react to her? Her added vulnerability in a world of zombies trying to chomp on her flesh made the scenario more scary and exciting. These were things that Chance failed to be able to explain to his other gamer cohorts on the forums. For him, the exhibitionistic thrill was a special ingredient, putting him in the situation of the nude-modded girl he commanded.

Then, he felt heat on his shoulders. The licking flames of the collapsing apartment building from the opening setpiece of Resident Evil 3 now touched him for real. He had been wearing a white tank top, so his shoulders were bare and he could feel the fire's heat, but he could also feel the labor of his breath as he ran, and the roughness of the apartment hall floor on his bare soles, and strangely, the heft and weight of his newfound breasts in front of him.

Chance slid to a stop. He was Jill Valentine. He was a naked white woman in her twenties standing in a burning apartment building. The sense of vulnerability was palpable; he could feel the heat of the roaring fire caressing his bare skin, so much bare that it gave him goosebumps despite the heat. He found his hands moving to his chest, and felt there the pillowy touch of his newly-gained C-cup breasts. He looked down and was amazed at what he saw, a pair of pale tits hovering before him. With one hand, he traced down his now slim and smooth abdomen to tweak a bush of black, curly pubic hair below, and not his dick, which would usually be there to accept his grip. He was now a woman. He was Jill Valentine, naked and afraid in a video game scenario that he had put her in.

There was a sudden crash behind him. Wheeling around, he saw a flaming door collapse, and an imposing figure taking up the whole space of the now-open doorway: the hulking, black figure of the Nemesis, the mutant zombie weapon of the Umbrella Corporation. Chance turned naked tail and ran.

He had never experienced so much terror before. He felt like he might have a heart attack as his newly-endowed chest pulsed and his bare feet stung with the sharp debris of the burning apartment floor. He could feel the ground quake with the Nemesis’ advance, and he sprinted for a window and jumped through it like in all the action movies, and could feel the broken glass make a dozen cuts on his naked skin.

He managed to land on the street in a superhero roll and came to his feet, shoulders square and body poised. All around him was chaos; buildings were aflame, car alarms blared, and people ran through the streets, pursued by slower, shambling zombies. And the full realization of how naked he was now settled on him as a few of the fleers stopped in their tracks and did a double-take at him.

One young man was poised to open his mouth and ask something when a zombie tackled him and he was taken to the ground. Chance’s survival instincts kicked in and he sprinted ahead, just as he heard a crash from behind, no doubt the Nemesis leaping out of the burning apartment window. Chance never felt more naked and afraid.

He sprinted. He sprinted like mad through the chaotic streets, feeling the roughness of the blacktop on his bare soles, feeling the momentum of his tits bouncing as he ran and making him wonder how women athletes managed it. He ran and panted and didn’t have time to appreciate his new physique until he came around a corner and caught his breath, putting his hands on his knees. Then, feeling the pull of gravity on his breasts, he stopped and cupped them with his hands.

Incredible. He was really Jill Valentine. If he weren’t in the middle of a zombie apocalypse, he would have taken the time to appreciate his new body, but an explosion rocked the street and he ran to the end of the alley to get away.

He felt panic, true panic at the thought of crossing another bystander more than he did at getting caught by the Nemesis. As he broke out onto the next street, a middle-aged man stopped in his tracks and stared at Chance. Chance felt all the embarrassment that a young woman would have felt at being seen so suddenly in the nude, and politely nodded to the man and continued running. Chance was equal parts in a nightmare he couldn’t wake up from and a fantasy that he wanted to be able to enjoy.

He ran from street to street, putting as much distance as he could between himself and the carnage. At one alley exit, he was seized by a rotting zombie, and felt all the terror of a vulnerable young woman in the grip of an oppressor. He managed to knock the zombie away with the phantom pain of its grip on his slender forearm as he ran, trying to remember what he was supposed to do if he were playing a normal playthrough of Resident Evil 3. Then he saw the train rail ahead. He doubled his stride and made for its safety.

Zombies groaned in the distance as Chance mounted the iron stairs to the train platform above, feeling his breasts bounce heavily with each step. When he got to the top, he was covered in a light sweat that chilled him as a breeze blew through the platform, and he ran for the stationary train, hoping that there, he could get some rest and ascertain his situation. and maybe even wake up.

What he immediately saw, though, filled him with a new kind of terror. A surprised young male face stared back at him through the train car window, a swarthy-looking young man with a full, billowing halo of hair. Carlos Olivera. He went to the doors and pried them open, and Chance, bouncing on his naked soles as a young, naked woman, burst in as soon as they were open.

The doors slammed closed as she (he) panted in the train car, and Carlos marveled at her.

“Are you okay?” his sincere, buttery-smooth voice asked. Chance looked up at him and nodded, panting still, and then ascertained the rest of his (her) company.

A stern, hard-jawed man with divisiveness in his face sat towards the end of the train car, and next to him, an unconscious man was lying lengthwise on the handicap bench.

“So I’ll get the awkward question out of the way,” Carlos said, looking down at Chance (Jill). “Why are you naked?”

Chance didn’t know how to reply. Should he reply from his own perspective, or the perspective of Jill? All he could manage to say was:

“I... I don’t know. I, uh...”

He was overcome by the male gaze collectively directed at him, and felt the need to slide his arm over his newfound voluptuous breasts.

“Don’t worry,” Carlos said, raising a reassuring hand. “Relax. It’s all good. This is a survival situation, afterall. I don’t think we’re going to be too distracted.”

“Speak for yourself,” the stern-looking man at the end of the train car said. Carlos shrugged and returned his gaze to Chance, presented as nude Jill Valentine.

“If we had something cover you with, we would offer it,” he said. “But I’m afraid we’re in a spot right now.”

“Train’s lost power,” the stern-looking man at the end of the car said.

"If we had power, we could ride straight out of here," Carlos said, addressing Chance and doing his best to avert his eyes from his Jill-Valentine breasts. "We haven't had the opportunity because we have too much going on here."

The man laid out on the handicapped bench groaned in pain. Chance felt a swell of empathy as well as exhilaration because he was presented nude to Carlos and the rest.

“I’ll do what I can,” Chance said, knowing what he needed to do in the context of Resident Evil 3.

“The power station is probably knocked out,” Carlos said, still fighting not to gaze at Chance/Jill's bared, bountiful breasts. “But maybe it's as simple as throwing a switch. If we have a chance to get out of here...”

“I’m on it,” Chance said, feeling like Jill Valentine for real, his bare chest heaving, suddenly feeling powerful. “If that’s what we need to do to get out of here.”

“Take this,” Carlos said, and withdrew a handgun from his side holster. He handed it to Chance with a slightly trembling hand.

“Alright,” Chance said. “You can count on me.”

And so Chance found himself stepping out of the train as Carlos, a little flustered, pulled open the doors, and Chance nodded to him and left the company of the leering men, out into the danger of the zombie-infested city.

A transformation occurred as Chance went back down the iron stairs and into the danger of the city. He felt like a true video game heroine, like a goddess, strolling nude through the streets of Raccoon City with nobody to oppose his nudity. His endowed chest was thrust out, and he marched with confidence to where the power station was, skirting the paths of lurching zombies and feeling more and more exhilaration with each breath he took, each breath making his female bosom rise and fall.

He had some pause, a brief moment of realization that he wasn't Jill Valentine standing naked in a post-apocalyptic wasteland, but really Chance Stevens, young unassuming layabout, passed out high in his apartment, with his girlfriend off on an adventure with her gal friend, and possibly attracting other guys. Did she, with her tight dresses, feel as powerful and confident as Chance did right now, in the shoes (or rather, bare feet) of naked Jill Valentine? He had to wonder. He felt powerful as much as he did vulnerable, and his palms sweated as he gripped the pistol and stole through the streets praying he wouldn't need to use it too much. Soon, he saw the looming power station ahead. He hurried forth, the pavement cold and rough on his bare feet. Then a zombie stumbled into his path. He could only imagine how cool he looked, taking a shooter's stance, bared body poised and shameless, and dropping the enemy with a slight recoil and a jiggle of his breasts. He wished he was back in his apartment, watching this scene play out as he had wanted, though standing in the perspective of the CG girl he wanted to objectify was certainly a thrill. As the zombie fell to the ground, Chance ran a free hand down his feminine body, ending with a glide over his vulva. He trembled, and then moved forward.

It was remarkable how he could appreciate the movement of each limb, the turn of his bare thighs, the electrified energy coursing through his skin. It almost made him want to become a nudist at home, once he was done with this dream. But would it be as exhilarating?

As he got to the front of the building, Chance raised his gun and approached the door. He could hear voices. They were muffled, but he could make out excited tones. Maybe there were survivors inside, survivors who could help him through this situation, and survivors who would probably gape at his nudity. He shouldered the door open and stepped inside.

Suddenly the voices were clear and all-encompassing. They weren't coming from deeper in the building, but from all around, as if on a loudspeaker. Chance raised his gun and walked stealthily through the main lobby of the power station, and the voices came in loud and clear in his ear.

“Damn, look at her.”

“Holy fuck.”

“I’d like to tap that.”

He was horribly confused, but kept his gun at the ready and his muscles tense, but as he neared the first hallway, he could tell that the voices were not originating from anywhere around him.

“That’s a perfect snatch.”

“I’d love to dive my face into it.”

“Why do you think she’s naked, bros? Does she like showing off?”

As Chance passed into the dark hallway, he felt the need to press his palm over his newly-found bush, despite the closed and cramped space. It was as if he had eyes on him from all around, from somewhere other than the halls of the power station. It was as if he was in a video game and viewers were watching him on a stream.

“I’d love to run my fingers through that bush.”

Chance broke into a run. He didn't know why he did, but he felt a surge of fear now, and as he blindly ran, he crashed face-first into a groping zombie, screamed effeminately, and then stood back and took it out with a gory head-shot. His chest was heaving, and he could feel a thousand eyes on it as it did. He lost sight of his goal and was now in a panic.

And then the hall transformed. Its shadowy recesses were suddenly revealed in blindingly bright overhead lights, and the empty recesses were suddenly populated by people in coveralls walking to and fro, and they all stopped at the sight of Chance (or Jill). He felt more petrified than if he had stepped into the path of a bunch of hungry zombies.

"Are you okay, miss?" a concerned-looking middle-aged man asked, and Chance didn't know why, but the man's concern caused him to take a step back, to reel away from the attention, and he plowed into another worker behind him.

“W-whoa,” this man said with a stuttery voice. “Are you alright?”

Chance wheeled around to face him, instantly covered himself, made a pathetic little squeak, and then ran out to the lobby from which he had come. He was terrified to see that it was full of bystanders, all stopping and turning to look at his nudity. He was no longer holding a gun, as both his hands were assisting in covering himself. The gun wasn't needed in this scenario.

A circle of concerned men closed around him. They did not mean to leer, but they were leering all the same, and his personal bubble was shrinking, shrinking until it would smother Chance, or until he crushed himself from how tight he was hugging his body. He could feel their body heat closing in. He was too terrified to look into anyone’s eyes. But then a woman stepped through the crowd, and Chase finally looked.

She was looking at him judgmentally, as if she were disgusted with him. Her face twisted into an angry scowl and she said:

“What the fucking hell, Chance?”

His eyes fluttered open and Ja'Nae was standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips. Behind her, another face was jumping to try to get a look: Fiona. Chance soon understood why. Besides Jill Valentine, who still stood nude on the screen in an idle animation, Chance himself was somehow nude as well. His clothes were tossed a distance away on the floor, and he sat completely naked in his gaming chair, a fading erection still there despite his dream's last scary moment.

“Uh, hey,” he said, wondering whether he should cover himself or not, deciding not to when he saw Fiona’s excited eyes over Ja’Nae’s shoulder. “You’re home early.”

Naked Escape

Susie stood in line, sweating bullets. Trish had abandoned her, and she was the one who dared her to do this thing to begin with. It sounded like an emergency, though. Trish had left the line saying “tell me how it is!”

Susie pulled her puffy coat tighter. It was starting to get cold lately, which made it even harder to stomach the idea of getting naked.

She casually scanned the faces in the short queue behind her. The next person in line was a black dude who flinched and then smiled at her. Susie felt a little tickle in her chest. Over the man’s shoulder, she frowned at the red-cheeked, chubby face of a classic dork with stringy hair. His skin was more white than the black guy’s was truly black, like he never left his parents’ basement until today. She turned around and faced forward. There were only two people ahead of her and her heart was beating faster and faster. Are these the people I’m going to get naked with? she wondered. At the top of the stoop, a middle-aged woman in a professional business suit spoke with the doorman, digging for her ID so that she could be let into The Naked Escape Room.

Darius shook his head and chuckled at the white lady in the business suit. She didn’t look like the type that would come to this place, but he knew looks were deceiving. “This place” being the new rage in town, a spicy spin on the typical escape room fun-houses one could go through with friends or strangers, an escape room where everybody was required to be nude. What a zany idea. But people were going for it. It was the vision of the attraction's creator to introduce social nudity to the public and show that it’s about a lot more than just taking your clothes off (to borrow a quote), and the “a lot more” didn’t have anything to do with sex. Nevertheless, when the girl in front of Darius turned to look back at the line and met eye-to-eye with him instead, he couldn’t help but get just a hair more excited, because she was very pretty. This wasn’t an event for exhibitionists and voyeurs (despite what some people may think), but Darius had to admit, having an attractive girl present was a nice bonus.

Naomi waited for the doorman to look at her ID as if he didn’t trust that the picture was hers, then he finally handed it back to her and she stepped through the open glass doors and was hit with a wave of heat. They had it cranked up, but that made sense. It would make it more inviting to take your clothes off.

She looked back one more time at the about a dozen people that were lining up and wrinkled her nose. She had to be the oldest one there. A few spaces back, a young, preppy college-looking chick was staring up at her, and behind her, some thug-looking guy in a hoodie. Were these the people she was going to be participating with?

The doorman was trying to get her attention, telling her she could go in. She was hurried inside as the next person in line tried to get through.

She walked through the carpeted and low-lit lobby area like a lost child, until she saw a young woman—again, younger than her—at a desk.

“Hi, is this where I sign in?” Naomi asked.

“Yes it is, just fill this out.” The young woman slid over a clipboard that made a dull scraping sound as it was put in front of Naomi. “Are you doing it with friends or are you doing the randomizer option?”

Naomi was staring down at all the paperwork and then blinked and looked up.

“Oh. Randomizer.”

The Naked Escape Room had two options: go in with a group of friends, or challenge yourself by meeting and problem-solving with strangers—in the nude. Naomi was doing it by herself. She hadn't told anybody she was doing it. She wished now, though, that she would have brought a change of clothes to work. Not only did she stand out like a sore thumb among all these hipsters, she might be more recognizable. Someone might see her and gossip. Yeah right, she then thought. Like anybody here is into office real estate.

She was here to challenge herself. Not just challenge, but to grow as a person. She didn't feel taken seriously enough at work, even though she was a high-level broker. Society was well past looking down on women in the workplace, or at least, so Naomi thought. Or maybe it wasn't her gender, maybe it was... she didn't know. She felt that people in the office made fun of her behind her back. But it could all be nerves. That’s why she was doing this. To build up her nerve. Her confidence. Maybe after this experience, she could walk through the office without caring what others thought.

Oh right, the paperwork.

“I’m sorry, but what is all this? ...A release?”

“Yes ma’am, because participants will be nude, we require that everybody acknowledges that they are voluntarily doing this, as well as pledging to follow the rules of conduct. No touching—unless permitted—no sexual touching—at all—no harassment...”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it I just... wow, you guys take this seriously, huh?”

The girl, young enough to be Naomi’s daughter, furrowed her brow with a look that made her appear to be the adult.

“Yes, we have to.”

Billy had been staring at the slim business suit lady as she went in, her stockinged calves carrying her on clicking heels, and then he returned his eyes to the back of the hoodie the guy in front of him was wearing. He didn’t like it; it flared out and blocked his view of the pretty auburn-haired girl standing the next space in front of him. He had caught a glimpse of her when she turned around and—damn, she was pretty. Was he going to get to see her naked? Or the business suit lady? Most likely he’d be thrown in with a bunch of guys, probably the hoodie guy in front of him, and then he could find out if the stereotype about black guys all having big dicks was true (not that he wanted to find out). He wanted to see naked girls, that was the main draw. Okay, he told himself it wasn't, but honestly, it was. He did have an interest in nudism and social nudity, though, and with more and more venues opening up in the city that were challenging society's beliefs about modesty, Billy didn't have to drive up into the mountains to finally give it a try. He could do it right in his backyard. Doing this escape room would hopefully help him strengthen his people skills. He could barely speak without stumbling over his words or saying something completely stupid or easily misunderstood as creepy. He expected to be kicked out the second he got to the door, as if everybody would just automatically be able to tell that he was a weirdo. He watched the auburn-haired girl go up the steps and hand her ID to the doorman, and he couldn't help but take the opportunity to appreciate her butt, snug in her blue jeans, just in case he didn't see her again. And then the guy in the hoodie was up next and got through quickly, and Billy was left staring up at the bored-looking doorman, his breaths becoming shallow, his sweat pouring out more than it usually did.

Someone bumped him from behind, and he stumbled forward, nearly tripped on the stoop, and failed at playing it off cool as he handed his ID over and the doorman just rolled his eyes and shook his head. Then he let him through. He was in. And all around him, people were milling about, lightly scattered, but none of them were naked yet.

“Alright people, pay attention!” A young woman’s voice came.

*****

A young, pony-tailed woman in khakis and a polo shirt stood dwarfed by many of the guests.

“This area is for people who signed up for the randomizer. If you’re playing with friends, follow the line on the floor to the end of the hall, there.”

She pointed. Only one group, all girls, giggled with laughter as they made their way down the blue tape on the carpeted floor.

“For the rest of you, I am going to hand out a key with a number tag. Each of you will go to the entryway to my right and find the changing room with your number on it. You may leave all your belongings in the trunk there, and an inner door will take you to your escape room. Keep your key with you; I suggest wearing it around your wrist. Any questions?”

The small group of people all stared blankly, as if shell-shocked. Perhaps there were questions in their minds, but they didn't voice them. The young woman in the polo nodded and said “good,” and then picked up a bag from the sign-in counter and began handing key rings to all the participants. A tall man dressed identically joined her, handing out keys from his own bag. They were like gas station restroom keys with a little tag that had a number written on it and a coil wristband. Some people took the keys eagerly, as if looking forward to taking their clothes off, while others took them nervously and followed the crowd as they funneled into the changing room hallway.

*****

The doors were not evenly spaced, and the hallway branched off in different directions, making a maze out of things, almost like a game before the game. Luckily, signs on the wall directed guests which direction to go for their room number, just as in a hotel. Billy walked slowly, seeing the business suit lady ahead of him, her sport coat tailored to still show off the narrowness of her waist and the wideness of her hips. He prayed she didn’t turn around; he didn’t like sudden social pressure. But he was about to get a lot of that.

He was so concerned about the woman that he almost missed his door—room number thirteen. He laughed inside, a nervous laugh, wondering if the unlucky number foreshadowed any ill fortune. With sweaty hands, he worked the key into the lock and stepped into a small, brightly lit room. There was a single bench, a mirror, and a trunk. It reminded Billy of the item boxes from Resident Evil. And now, it’s time to get undressed. It shouldn't have been any different than changing in his bedroom, but the space was so claustrophobic, and there was no way to hide from the mirror. He didn't like seeing his pudgy reflection and doubted himself that he could do this. But he wanted to see some naked girls. With excited, trembling hands, he struggled out of his coat and psyched himself up to pull off his shirt.

Naomi turned a corner and found her door—fourteen—and quickly entered. The cramped room she stepped into was somehow comforting as she slid off her coat and looked at herself in the private mirror. The room was so quiet, as if she weren’t in a building full of people but instead pulling an all-nighter in an empty office. The restrooms there at that hour were about as quiet as this dressing room was now. She wasted no time in getting undressed, propelled by nervous energy that both told her to go back out and urged her to move forward.

Darius calmly entered his room and began undressing right away. He had already taken his hoodie off and held it at his side. It was hot in the building. He would have liked the opportunity to freshen up, to wipe down some of his sweat in front of a sink, but unfortunately the rooms were not equipped with sinks. Just a mirror to check one’s appearance (or get used to it) before stepping through the second door, where Darius imagined there would be a lot of nervous sweating going on anyway. He sat on the bench and pulled his shoes off, wondering if you were supposed to go barefoot. He guessed so. They would have provided foot protection otherwise, and it would feel weird to wear sneakers and nothing else. Sighing, hoping the escape room would be safe to walk on with unprotected feet, he pulled down his jeans first, and then stood with just his shirt, looking at himself in the mirror and the way the head of his penis peeked out from underneath the hem, and then he pulled his shirt off.

Susie had almost gotten lost in the maze; she walked around a corner, and another corner, wondering if she was about to find herself at a dead-end and have to go back, but then at the third turn, she found one single door marked with her number—sixteen—and she entered.

She was shaking as she assessed the changing bench, the trunk to put her clothes, and her frail-looking appearance in the mirror. To hell with Trish, she thought. Abandoning me like this. They could have been like the giggling girls going to have fun together. But now she was faced with the prospect of being naked—and stared at—by a stranger, and which one of the strangers would she meet? She was terrified, but, not wanting to see Trish again without a story to tell, she shrugged off her coat. She had kept it on because, despite the building's heat, she was trembling. It was all nerves, she knew. She took in the image of her civilized self one last time before she went off with the proverbial Band-Aid and unbuttoned her blouse. She decided to close her eyes while doing it. Instead of watching herself undress, she would blink her eyes open and see the new her staring back. How good would she look? She was only used to seeing her naked self in the mirror from the chest up. Stumbling, she tossed her shirt in the direction of where she thought the bench was, probably missing it, and in the same motion, swung her arms back to unclip her bra. She tossed it blindly; the floor would probably look like the remains of a frat house party once she opened her eyes. She kicked off her shoes and took down her jeans, feeling the stale air envelop her skin. It was as if she were climbing out of the skin she was used to and into... nothing. She felt nothing, and as she stepped out of her jeans, she felt as if she were in a void, perhaps floating in a sensory deprivation tank, if not for the warmth of her socks on her feet and the floor solidly underneath her soles. She pinched between the toes of her socks with her other foot and pulled her leg up and out of the sock and repeated the process with the other foot. She wanted to be completely, utterly naked when she opened her eyes, not even anything on her feet. Essentially how she should be, how she was born. She opened her eyes.

The girl in the mirror made her jump. It was almost as if a stranger had wandered into the room while she had her eyes closed. It was ridiculous to think that she looked that much different naked, but she did. She wasn't used to seeing her hair, dry, falling on her bare shoulders. Her arms, honey-hued, framed a paler torso. She wasn't one for two-pieces; her stomach was as white as freshly driven snow. But at least it was flat. Looking at herself from head to toe, she was suddenly ashamed of her pubic hair. She never trimmed it, and it was almost a round shape with how much it filled her center of being. She didn't want people to think she had poor grooming habits. Perhaps other people would be the same. Other girls? Would she even be participating with other girls? What if it was all guys? Surely the staff had thought of that situation and had some way to even the gender ratio. And what if it was all girls? It didn't matter if they weren't people she knew, it would still be awkward. Susie began to doubt that she could open that second door. She began to perspire, but when she looked at her reflection again, it somehow calmed her, and she took one last look, watched her chest rise and fall as she took a deep breath, and then she tore herself away from her image and faced the door, opening it and stepping into...

*****

A spacious but dimly lit room. A dusty wooden table takes up the center, cluttered with test tubes and beakers and microscopes and a (hopefully) fake human skull. A bookshelf takes up the far wall. It looks like a mad scientist's study. Standing at the edges of the room are three naked people, with a fourth entering from a door opposite the bookshelf wall. The new arrival—a young, pretty woman with auburn hair—looks to her right and tenses at the sight of a lean, toned man, black, as naked as the day he was born, bringing to mind images of how African Bushmen are portrayed on television. The girl's nakedness draws the attention of the others more than anybody else's, perhaps because she appears to be the youngest, with a body whose only flaw was that it didn't see enough sun.

Her face is alive with surprise at seeing the others, standing against the catercorner wall, where two other doors are: an overweight, pot-bellied young man with tangly hair above and below, and a middle-aged but thin and fit woman with straightened, shoulder-length, dark-brown hair and a few inches in height over the younger girl. She looks quite fantastic, though slightly weathered with age.

“Well,” the younger woman says. “I guess this is—”

The lights instantly go out. There is a crackle of static and a sinister voice fills the darkness.

“Aaah, I see I have some new specimens. Welcome to my lair. Get acquainted with each other, I have some things to attend to. But don’t get too attached. Ooh, I can’t wait to slice into each of your bellies!”

The sinister voice ends its message with maniacal laughter, and then the static cuts him off and the transmission ends. The lights flicker back on and slowly grow brighter.

“Well,” the older woman, eyes wide, expression incredulous, says. “That was certainly foreboding.” She folds her arms crosswise in front of her abdomen, hiding her small but shapely breasts under each arm and her lower region under her palms, where fringes of dark hair peek out. The younger girl’s eyebrows go up when she catches sight of it. She is covering herself, too.

The only one who isn't covering themselves is the lean black man, who swings his arms as he steps forward into the center of the room. The overweight young man also looks down towards the other man's privates and appears somehow relieved, even transfixed, by the modest protrusion of the darker man's humble penis.

“I guess we should make introductions,” the black man says, placing a palm on his bare chest. “I’m Darius.”

He says this looking towards the young woman, then at the older one, while the overweight guy remains by the door which he entered from. The older woman sighs.

“Naomi,” she says, slowly letting her arms fall back to her sides. One can see, to the tips of her fingers, that her hands are trembling. “I-I work at—”

The black man puts up his hands.

“Let’s not tell each other what we do for a living,” he says.

“R-right, So we don’t reveal too much about ourselves.”

“No, not that. It’s because without our clothes, we are all the same.”

“And we’re plenty exposed,” the younger woman adds, stepping into the center, her arms now folded across her chest, her lower half strategically hidden from at least two of the three strangers as she stands by the central table. She glares down at the paraphernalia spread out there, including the human skull.

“Anyway, I’m Susie,” she says, looking back up.

“Cool, the young man replies. “So we have Naomi, Susie, me: Darius, and...”

He looks over his shoulder to where the overweight guy is hugging the wall.

“And you?”

The poor kid looks like a panicked animal.

“I, uh... I'm Billy.”

“Well come on over, we need to put our heads together. We’re probably on a time limit.”

Shyly, the overweight guy—Billy—joins the others, his hands retiring to his sides as well, hiding what little there is to be embarrassed about. The young girl, Susie, casts a curious glance down and then straightens her posture.

“I guess let’s all take a look around the room,” Darius says. “See what stands out. Maybe it’ll help each of us get over the awkwardness.”

“Well I’m gonna guess that our exit is right there,” Billy says, pointing across the room, where a circular opening big enough for a person to cross through is sealed off by a segmented metal barrier. It looks like the ventilation portals from the movie “Alien,” and would be right at home in any sci-fi set. Printed in block letters above the portal are the words: EXIT.

“Well, there you go,” Darius says. To the left of the exit, in the corner of the room near where Susie entered, is what looks like a metal fuse box mounted on the wall, the obvious control mechanism for the escape hatch. Darius marches over to it while the two women glance down at his dusky rear end.

“And wouldn’t you know it,” Darius says, “it’s locked with a padlock.”

He lifts the lock to present it and the small keyhole at its bottom.

“So I guess we need to be looking for a key,” Susie says, her voice still a little trembly, but sounding like she was getting into the mystery-solving already.

“Let’s look around.”

The four of them circle the room, keeping clear of each other where they can. Desk drawers are opened. Books are taken off of the shelf and inspected.

“That better not be a camera,” Susie says, looking at a far corner opposite the fuse box where a small, circular section of glass or plastic is embedded flush in the wall. Susie goes over to investigate it, but realizes it is nothing. The plastic surface is nearly opaque, but she can see the faint image of what looks like a handle on the other side. She blows it off as something maintenance-related and goes over to the bookshelf, where Billy is thumbing through pages, looking like he's more interested in the words than any key. They both look up at each other and Susie takes a step away from him when it is apparent how close they are standing. Naomi stands with her arms folded, dissatisfied.

“That would be a dick move to hide the key in one of those books,” she says. “There’s so many.”

Darius, getting to his feet, dusts off his hands and knees and looks towards the top of the bookshelf, where it stops just six inches short of touching the ceiling.

“What about up there?”

They all looked up to where he is pointing.

“Has to be a stepladder around here somewhere,” Naomi says, and begins looking. She peeks in the space between the bookshelf and the wall, as if a stepladder could fit there. The others look around as well, flinching and apologizing each time they almost run into one another. But there is no stepladder.

“I guess we’ll have to boost one of us up,” Darius suggests. “Figures they might have us do something like that.”

“Why?” Naomi asks.

“To get us comfortable with each other.”

Billy’s eyes widen with realization and he excitedly directs them between Naomi and Susie.

“I can boost,” Darius says, stretching his muscled arms. “Which one of you is the lightest?”

His eyes settle on Susie, because it is obvious; he definitely isn't going to try to boost up Billy.

Susie’s eyes widen with realization and she shakes her head.

“Uh-uh. That’s just too perfect. I’m not about to have you look up my snatch.”

At this, Billy looks worried, until Naomi snorts.

“I can boost you,” she offers. “We don’t need a muscleman.”

She casts an appreciative eye at Darius. “No offense.”

“None taken, yours is probably a better idea,” he says, looking at her fully, taking her in. They all take each other in. There are what might faint shimmers of lust behind some of those eyes, but there is a task that needs to be done.

Susie takes off the wristband she’s wearing, with her key dangling on it, and sits it in the center of the wooden table so that it is clearly in view despite all the clutter.

“Alright,” she then says, centering herself in front of the bookshelf. Naomi comes up and crouches, averts her gaze since her eyes are right in front of the young girl’s behind, and Susie places a heel in the older woman’s palms.

“One, two, up!”

The men watch as Naomi bounces Susie on her heel, her rump rising and falling, and then rising far above their heads as if on a pedestal. It points outwards as Susie leans against the bookshelf to grope around.

“I can’t really see in there... Doesn’t look like anything’s—ah!”

She brings her fist out and opens it, revealing a small, silver key.

“Got it!”

“Alright!” Darius cries. Naomi lets Susie down and she lands with a dip of her hips and a bounce of her breasts, though she doesn’t seem self-conscious about it as she proudly holds up the key. In the back of the room, Billy moves his hands over his groin.

“Let’s go try it,” Darius says, stepping up to take the prize and going over to the other corner of the room where the box is, with the others following, Billy in the rear.

Darius lifts the padlock and tries the key, then grunts in frustration.

“Doesn’t fit.”

“You gotta be kidding me,” Noelle says. “Let me try.”

“Telling you, it doesn’t fit, but knock yourself out.”

The older woman steps up to him, rather close, and takes the key to try for herself. She tries and tries, as if she can will the key to slide into place, but it obviously isn’t a fit.

“Well damn it.”

“Guess we gotta look around some more. But keep a hold of that, we’ll probably need it.”

“Well where are we gonna look?” Susie protests. “We tore the place apart.”

They all look at the bookshelf.

“Goddammit.”

“Better get to it,” Darius says, and approaches the bookshelf. Susie comes up alongside him and stares, overwhelmed by the sheer number of books. Naomi folds her arms unsatisfactorily again and sighs, then joins the rest as they start pulling books from the shelves.

“Just open ‘em up and shake ‘em out,” Darius instructs. “Don’t have to flip through the pages, unless they taped the thing in there. Now that would be a dick move.”

He glances up as he sees that Billy is still standing at the edge of the room.

“Come on and help, man.”

“O-one moment,” Billy calls back, and Darius opens his mouth to ask why, but then a dawn of realization comes over his face. He fights back a smile so the women won't ask what is going on, but they are too busy shaking out books.

“We don’t even know if this is where the other key is hidden, anyway,” Susie says.

“It’s gotta be, we checked everywhere else,” Naomi says, moving slower than the two younger people. She plucks books off of the shelf as if she were browsing through a library, while Darius and Susie go through ten times as many books each. Billy, meanwhile, takes Naomi’s comment to heart and begins re-checking every nook and cranny of the room. Or perhaps he does not feel ready to come over yet. He gets on his hands and knees to look under the wooden desk, and nobody looks his way.

A few minutes later, Darius and Susie are sitting cross-legged on the floor with a pile of books before them. They go through and re-check each book, flipping the pages, looking for a key taped inside. Susie, though she had acted like she was now used to her nakedness, has a few scattered books sitting in her lap to hide her “snatch,” to use her phrasing. Nevertheless, she is calm, and she looks up at Darius flipping through the pages and scanning with his eyes so that it appears as if he is speed-reading and absorbing as much information as he can.

“Are you in the military or something?” she asks him. He looks up and blinks.

“Huh? No, why?”

Susie smiles and brushes her hair off her shoulder with her free hand.

“It’s just that you seem to be a natural leader.”

Darius laughs at that, showing his pearl-white teeth, and he waves the compliment away.

“Nah, that’s not my thing. I guess it just seems that way because—”

He cuts himself off and stops flipping the pages for a moment.

“Because of what?”

“Eh, I’ll explain later. We better hurry.”

Susie frowns and hesitatingly goes back to her search. Noelle has given up and is searching the rest of the room again, while Billy has finally come over, plopping his butt down heavily on the floor. Susie stiffens up in his presence and loses the giddy energy that she was building in Darius's presence.

“How can I help?” Billy asks.

“Just flip through carefully and see if there’s a key taped inside one of these books,” Darius instructs, and Billy slowly takes one up and slowly flips pages. Susie groans.

“Oh, we’re never gonna beat this thing. That mad scientist should already have gutted us by now.”

She throws her book down and folds her arms over her breasts. She is essentially completely covered and decent in this position, with the books splayed out on her lap.

“Never give up,” Darius says.

“I know what it is,” Susie then pipes up, straightening her back. Darius looks up.

“What?”

“It’s that you’re so calm. Despite...” she waves her hand at all of them. “This.”

Billy softly turns a page and it is the only sound for a moment, until there comes a soft cling. Billy looks up, but the sound comes from none of them.

“Hey guys,” Naomi calls to them, and they all look and open their mouths in surprise as there, she holds up a smaller key, this one gold.

“It was in the skull,” Naomi says with a grin, the first time she’s smiled.

“Well I’ll be damned,” Darius says. He slaps his book shut and quickly gets his feet. Billy struggles to his, leaving Susie sitting there for a moment, collecting her thoughts, collecting another view of Darius’s tight backside before standing and letting her pile of books slide off her thighs—an educational avalanche.

Darius joins Naomi at the table and she proudly hands him the key, chest out, back straight. He doesn’t miss a beat.

“Let’s go get this thing unlocked.”

Everybody follows him over to the panel box, where he successfully slides the key into the padlock and gets the cover off. He hands it to Billy, who, with a surprised look, takes it and searches for a place to sit it.

The exposed panel box has a sturdy metal lever, two parallel pieces of connected steel. There is a label that reads “pull to open escape hatch.” The top of the lever is tethered to the box by a padlock threaded through the twin handles.

“Time to bring me that other key,” Darius says. Billy goes to the table and exchanges the panel cover for the key, while the women are visibly excited, excited, perhaps, to get out of this place, or maybe they are getting into it, standing naked with the lean and fit young Darius. Even Billy seems energized and less shy about himself, letting his belly and what little else show shamelessly. Darius quickly opens the padlock and takes it off of the lever, letting the lock clatter to the ground instead of handing it off this time.

“All right, here we go...”

Darius grips the lever and pulls outward, but the lever only moves an inch. His biceps flex and he grunts.

“Damn, this is a tough one.” He grunts and pulls again. The lever barely moves.

“I wonder if it’s meant for two people to pull down,” Susie suggests. Darius rests and studies her, catching his breath.

“Yeah,” he concludes. “That would make sense. They’d want us to do something like that.”

He watches the two women fold their arms again, and he turns to Billy, perhaps not to put either of the females in the awkward situation of being so close to him, perhaps because he assumes that Billy, while out of shape, still has more muscle.

“Billy, wanna lend a hand?” he asks him. Billy takes a half-step back, unsure, his eyes wide, but he eventually nods and comes around to Darius’ right side and grips the lever with him.

“Put your weight into it,” Darius commends, then, glancing over at Billy, adds: “No offense.”

“Nah, makes sense.”

“Alright, one, two, three!”

The women watch as the two men pull. Darius puts his own weight into it as well, and Billy lowers himself and hangs onto the lever, and it finally moves more than an inch. They heave, they groan, and with one more burst of effort, the lever goes all the way down. Billy’s hands slip and he falls on his butt, and they hear a mechanical sound, something turning, and the girls cheer. They all look at the escape hatch, waiting for it to inevitably open and admit their escape, as it’s so clearly labeled for. Billy is in the middle of struggling to his feet when looks up in surprise to see the slender hand of Naomi reaching down to help him. He blushes and lets her help, and they are now facing each other, inches apart. He works his mouth like he is going to say something, but then there is a sharp clunk, and unseen gears start to grind. There is a scraping sound. Instead of the hatch opening, the bookshelf on the far side of the room is moving.

Not aside or inward, as if to reveal a hidden passage, but forward, away from the wall; the bookshelf is moving towards them as if it is alive.

“Well that’s interesting,” Darius says. The bookshelf keeps moving, creeping towards them. Built into the wall, it appears to extend deep into it, a giant moving block that just happens to have a bookcase on the end. They start backing up as the discarded books on the floor are pushed in a heap like debris in the path of a street sweeper.

Another sharp clunking sound, and the table in the middle of the room trembles. Suddenly, the section of the floor it sits upon begins to lower, taking the table with it into a lower level to clear the way for the moving wall.

“My key!” Susie yells, and she rushes forward to grab her room key before it is taken away. She bends down and snatches it right before the table falls below ground level, and finds herself teetering on the edge.

Until a pair of arms wraps around her midsection. She is pulled back, both relieved and excited, until she looks down at the pale, smooth arms wrapped around her. They pull her back and then release her, and she turns around to see Billy, panting, blushing.

“Thanks,” she says honestly, and he musses his hair, his key still around his wrist and tapping his temple.

The bookshelf continues to advance.

“Uh, is it going to stop?” Naomi wonders aloud. They back up to the wall where the door Susie had entered the room from is. She turns and tries the knob, but of course it is locked, and there is no keyhole to get back in. Then, at the corner to their right, another section of wall, catercorner to the moving bookshelf, trembles and moves forward.

“We’re in a spot!” Darius says.

“You can say that again,” Naomi replies with panic in her voice, watching their space shrink and shrink, putting them in a pincer. They back up into the farthest corner, near the utility box with the lever, as heaps of books are piled at their feet. Then the bookshelf trembles and stops with only a few feet between them and the wall, while the catercorner section of wall shrinks that small channel of space, advancing as if to crush them like a hydraulic press. None of them perhaps fears that they will really be crushed, though it is understandable if they do think that. The more immediate discomfort, however, is how they are being forced to crowd in with each other. Darius is closest to the lever box, while facing the moving section of wall is Susie, with Naomi and Billy sandwiched in between, Naomi most uncomfortable as she is being pressed in between two sweaty males.

“Great, now what?” Susie says, glad but not glad to be the one facing their doom.

“Look!” Billy cries behind her, and his arm reaches over her shoulder (and she feels his chest and belly on her back). He points at the advancing section of wall, but more specifically, the round, glassy implement flush on its surface that Susie had previously suspected was a camera. Now that the wall is moving forward, some mechanism causes the dark, nearly opaque plastic to slide down, revealing what was behind it, and indeed it looks like a hand-lever. “Go pull that!” Billy commands.

They are all now quite literally knee-keep in books. Susie moves away from Billy and stumbles over the pile of literature, putting her butt out to him and putting herself in what some, maybe even him, might consider “the perfect position.” She scrambles to her feet and stands atop the mountain of books as the wall comes to meet her. She doesn't even need to move forward, and, as she takes a few more steps, stumbles back as the wall gets closer than she anticipates, and she falls back against Billy, who catches her but can't keep himself from falling back as well, smooshing Naomi between him and Darius. She screams in frustration.

Susie tries not to be repulsed or embarrassed and Billy gently guides her to a vertical position so that she may reach out and grab for the lever. Desperately, she grips it with a sweaty palm and pulls. Her fingers slip from it and she tries again. It seems like it's meant to be pulled outward. She scrambles as high as she can on the pile of books to get the best leverage, and she reaches out with both hands to crowd in on the lever, and leans back with all her weight, groaning. Unfortunately, the wall advances so that she loses her leverage, and is ready to fall backward, until Billy's arms wrap around her again—she bets he's getting a real kick out of all this—and he pulls her back.

His assistance helps, as there is a solid thunk and the wall slows its advance. It had been just short of leaving them with only about five square feet to stand in. Susie’s hands slip from the lever again and she falls back once more, this time with Billy catching her but gently lowering her instead of letting her collapse against him. She reclines on her pile of books as the section of wall, with its naked “eye,” seems to regard her before retreating with a quicker mechanical sound. At the same time, the bookshelf on their left shifts and begins to retreat, leaving the pile of books beneath Susie to gently spread out and collapse. Everybody cheers. They are free. Susie gets to her feet with the help of Billy and she smiles at him earnestly, then looks at Naomi and Darius with a grin of pride, sweat slicking her shameless chest.

As the bookshelf returns to its spot, the floor in the center of the room opens and the table rises from the depths, and the circular escape hatch, now revealed, begins to open, a pin-point of sunlight expanding until it is wide enough for any adult—even Billy—to pass through. As the contestants step into the center of the room, Darius claps Billy on the shoulder.

“Good eye, man,” he says, and Billy blushes some more. He blushes harder when Susie comes up to his side and gives him a hug. The shock in his eyes is comical, but she soon releases the hug and Billy doesn’t have time to have another erection faux pas. They are all just excited to leave, and so they do, one-by-one, Darius first, leaning down and looking through to make sure the passage is safe.

“It leads outside,” he says.

“Yeah, I can feel the cold air,” Naomi replies, hugging herself. “I’m not walking outside naked where everybody can see me!”

“Relax, it’s a patio with a stone wall around it. Let’s go.”

And so they follow Darius as his behind disappears through the opening.

*****

They came out into the chill of the day, with some scant sunlight making its way into the small rectangular patio that traveled under a breezeway and to a plain, unmarked door, which they hurried towards. It opened, and another young female employee in khakis and a polo stepped out, not shocked at all to see four naked people.

“Through here,” she said. “Come on.” They nodded and entered, suddenly acting shy, going in one-by-one, Darius first, followed by Susie, Noelle behind her, and Billy equally watching the rear-ends of his friends in front of him and blushing and nodding to the employee, who followed them in and shut the door.

They stood in a short, narrow hall with another door.

“The hall you entered through is out there. Do you all still have your keys?”

They all held them up by their wrists.

“Good. Hurry along to the room you changed in and you may leave by exiting back into the lobby, but don’t dilly-dally; we need to get you out before the next group comes in. We prefer visitors not see anybody, um, naked until they’re in the escape room.”

They all nodded, so close together, and she opened the next door. They spilled into the familiar, maze-like hallways, and stood there for a moment, taking the experience in.

“That was amazing,” Susie said. She unconsciously ran her hands down her sides and over her stomach, feeling herself rather than covering herself.

“Y’all did good,” Darius said, looking at each of them. It seemed none of them were shy or embarrassed to be naked or to see each other naked. Except for Naomi and Billy, who both were visibly nervous to be standing in the middle of the hall as they were, not a normal place to be nude.

“I-I better go get dressed,” Naomi said. She was hugging herself again, flattening a palm over her privates as if she had just now taken her clothes off. “I had fun, though.”

She turned and walked away. Billy seemed hesitant to leave. He looked down the hall at Naomi, a much different image of her than when he had first walked behind her in that very hall. He seemed eager to follow, but also eager to remain in the company of Susie, whose hug still burned on his skin. But Susie was looking directly at Darius.

“So about what you were gonna say earlier, before you cut yourself off...”

Darius looked at her blankly.

“What did I say?”

“You didn't get to say it. But I said you seemed so calm.”

“Oh, right. Well, that’s because I’m a nudist.”

“Get out? Really?”

Even Billy seemed interested, standing at the sidelines.

“Sure am. I’m used to stuff like this. Well, maybe not exactly like this, but you get what I mean.”

“I guess that’s why you were such a good leader. I don’t think any of us have done anything like this.”

Billy shook his head to confirm, but they didn’t notice him.

“I thought nudists were usually old redneck people,” she adds.

“You’d be surprised,” Darius replies with a smile. “There’s a resort an hour and a half north of here, in Levandale. Y’all should check it out.”

“Maybe I could go up with—”

“Oh crap, gotta go,” Billy said, and there was a hustle towards the opening of the hall, voices coming near. They had spent their time.

“Alright, let’s hustle, I’ll talk to you about that later,” Darius told Susie, and they all ran. They ran and split off to their separate rooms. Billy made it to his in time to cross paths with a startled and amused Naomi, now dressed, and she smiled and said “see you later.” He had nothing to say, and was frozen on the spot until he heard the advancing new guests coming up behind, and he ran.

Darius was already in his room before Susie neared whatever door he went through, and she ran to hers, catching her breath once inside, still sweaty, but quickly putting her clothes on. When she finally went out into the hall, it was empty, and Darius was not there. None of them ever saw each other again, but none of them forgot each other, either.

Naked girls are On the Move and can be Anywhere!

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