The Embarrassing Adventures of Paige Terner, Private Eye
 

WARNING: These stories contain lots of women ending up naked in public, due to mental trickery.
They often find themselves shamefully and helplessly aroused by their condition. They are (often) taken
advantage of, but the sex scenes are not overly explicit and there is no serious violence or coercion in any
of the stories.



SETTING:

Chagrin Falls, Florida. A small island which, for some strange reason, is governed as its own sovereign
principality. As it so happens, most of its inhabitants are single young women. This leads to a situation
where the men are somewhat chauvinistic - because they figure, hey, they CAN be. The women there
tend to act publically aloof, but many are secretly desperate for attention. Although most of the town's
leaders are ladies, they never seem to get the respect they feel they deserve.

An enterprising girl named Paige Terner starts a private detective agency, and finds herself embroiled in
a series of mysteries involving prim and proper young ladies losing their clothing under extremely
humiliating circumstances. She's woefully inexperienced, but bursting with enthusiasm. Fortunately for
her new enterprise, Paige is the only female investigator in town. And the victims of this crime wave
can't bear the thought of exposing their shameful predicaments to any male detectives, let alone to the
"boys club" of a local police force.

Unfortunately, the spunky detective keeps getting caught up in the same predicaments as her clients.
But through a combination of luck and an uncanny sense of intuition, Paige always manages to save the
day -- if not her clothes. She and her clients may lose their dignity (and in the heat of the moment their
virtue) but they come out no worse for wear in the end.



EPISODES:



Paige Terner and the Case of the Pilfered Panties

The female staff of the local college plead for help when they become the victims of some over-
achieving panty raiders, who only START by stealing all their female professors' underwear. Despite the
best efforts of these whip-smart schoolmarms to keep an eye on their remaining clothing, the last scraps
are swiped from right beneath their noses. The young professional ladies huddle together in their
birthday suits while Paige scours the town looking for clues. The investigation is complicated when
Paige's own wardrobe starts disappearing. Can our plucky heroine solve this case before she's fully
plucked? Or will she go from private eye to "naked eye?"



Paige Terner and the Case of the Fashion Police

Local debutantes are tricked into giving their all to some scam artists. The normally clever and tough-
minded women can't understand why they fall for such a humiliating ruse, but Paige suspects the mind-
controlling nerds are up to their old tricks again. Can our suddenly not-so-hard-boiled detective find a
way to outsmart the "gulli-beam," or will she end up playing the sucker?




Paige Terner and the Case of the Fitness Guru

Paige gets a call from a group of businesswomen who went to a health spa, but can't seem to make it
back to the office on Monday. They need help, but are too embarrassed to say exactly why. Paige
begins to suspect that something smells fishy when her new client nervously whispers into the phone:
"And, one more thing: could you also please... please bring us some clothes?" Will running about in
the fresh air and sunshine leave Paige feeling in the pink – or just looking that way?



Paige Terner and the Case of the Blushing Policewoman

A local gang has Bridget Kelly, the female police chief, at her wit's end. When she ends up out of
uniform once too often, the LAST thing she wants to do is ask her all-male subordinates for backup.
There's only one place the beat-red beat cop can turn to for help. Can our heroine help the lady fuzz
finally get her bust? Or will the criminals have the last laugh, and trick Paige into showing off her own
bust and lady fuzz?

Sorry for the double post. I didn't realize there was some lag before new threads were started.

Anyway, I've started work on this ENF novel. The whole thing is outlined, but I don't know how i'll ever be able to write all of it and still work my day job.

I'll post the first few chapters here serially. Please let me know if you like what you read. Frankly, I have absolutely no idea whether anyone else will like the same kind of thing I do. All I know for sure is that I haven't seen anything lately that suits my individual fancy, so I decided I'd just have to write this myself and see if it floats anybody else's boat too!

Paige Terner and the Case of the Pilfered Panties Chapter 1
 

Paige Terner and the Case of the Pilfered Panties

Chapter 1


Newly-licensed Private Detective Paige Terner couldn't believe her eyes as she
watched the press conference. The mayor of Chagrin Falls was making a fool of
herself - again. The striking 27-year-old Joy Steelgrave looked every inch the female
authority figure. OK, her political opponents groused that she was "too pretty." And,
truth be told, their quips about her breast size were accurate if not appropriate. Even
her female rivals joined in. Well, come to think of it, all of her campaign opponents last
year were females - most of them almost as good looking as Joy herself - but they
sniped worse than any man could have gotten away with.

What Paige couldn't abide was how this supposedly "strong" female mayor let her
underling walk all over her. Steve Esteban was the City Manager, technically Ms.
Steelgrave's employee. But he towered over her at the podium, answering more
questions than she did, and even interrupting whenever he felt like it. He was always
touching her in a condescending manner. On the shoulder, the back and once even - if
Paige's eyes didn't deceive her - on Joy's taught but well-rounded bottom. Not only did
the mayor not protest this familiarity, she almost seemed to secretly ENJOY the
demeaning attention. She blushed profusely, even squealed once, but through it all, a
coquettish grin kept seeping through her otherwise professional demeanor.

It was completely intolerable. There is no way in Hell Paige would ever have voted for
such a weak-willed excuse for a leader as this lady. Except that - Paige admitted to
herself for the dozenth time - Joy was a lot better than any of her opponents were.
Nevertheless, Paige couldn't help but admire the masterful way Manager Esteban had
about him. His broad shoulders and quick, darting eyes. The way he seemed to know
just when to move his hands lower...

"Paige! What are you doing?"

Startled, the spunky young private detective whipped her hands back on top of her desk
and clicked off the TV feed to her computer monitor. Guiltily, she cringed: "I... I'm
sorry. I won't let it happen again."

"Whatever." Ron White was Paige's new male secretary. Paying his salary was nearly
bankrupting her, but she had to keep up appearances. By lording it over a man, Paige
felt she could let her customers know she was the sort of woman not to be trifled with.

...Or should that be: "not with which to be trifled?" She could never keep that kind of
thing (or anything else for that matter) straight while Ron was in the room. Come to
think of it, ever since she had moved to this town, Paige seemed to have a hard time
focusing whenever a man was around. She always seemed distracted by, well,
naughty thoughts. Maybe it was something in the water? More likely, though, it was
simply the social atmosphere. The women vastly outnumbered the men around here.
Technically, this gave the local feminists great political power, and most of the leaders
were female. But that strangely seemed to make the women here feel even more, what
was the word... submissive, maybe? Paige hated to think in such old-fashioned terms.
But sometimes she almost felt like the men in this town only put women up on
pedestals so they could look up their...

"Well, I'm waiting!" Ron barked.

Flustered, Paige shuffled randomly through the papers in her in-basket. "I'm sorry, I
was just on the Internet looking for leads."

"Yeah, I'm sure that's what your hands were doing down there." Paige's blush
deepened from pink to cherry red. "Look if I don't get my paycheck by tomorrow, I'm
out of here. What kind of private detective doesn't have any clients anyway?"

Paige knew she should put him in his place. What business did a mere secretary have
trying to tell a licensed private investigator how to do her job? But she had to admit, the
man did have a point. And speaking of a point...

"Hey, eyes are up here sister!" Ron snapped. His broad grin told her he wasn't really
angry, but he seemed to get quite a kick out of calling attention to Paige's lack of focus.
She quailed at the humiliating faux pas. It wasn't so much that she had a desperate
urge to constantly "check out his package," it was just that her eyes seemed to have a
natural tendency to lower whenever she tried to look him in the eye, and they just sort
of tended to settle a bit below belt level. She'd have to work on that to develop her
"tough gal" private eye persona. But not right now. Ron didn't seem to be in the mood
to put up with any sassiness out of her.

"Whatever..." The surly male secretary stalked back out of her office. OK, Ron didn't
have the greatest vocabulary in the world, and he couldn't take dictation. Or type; or
file; or do pretty much anything else that a secretary should do. But Paige needed
something -- anything -- to tell the world she should be taken seriously. And a male
secretary just screamed: "powerful female."

Unfortunately, Paige Terner wasn't turning out to be much of a boss -- or much of a
private detective, for that matter. Twenty three years old, she had flunked pretty much
every certification course in the country until she finally filed a registration in Chagrin
Falls, Florida. Not only did she pass her test with flying colors, but the "King" of the
island had lavishly wined and dined her at his private estate before granting her license.

Taking advantage of a legal loophole 20 years ago, Bob Portals had used his immense
fortune and political connections to purchase an undeveloped island off the coast of
Florida and set it up as his own private "kingdom" of sorts - severed from most legal ties
to America and the state of Florida. People laughed at the time, but the software mogul
turned the worthless sand spit into a thriving principality -- actually, a pair of separate
townships. One, named Chagrin Falls, was set up to support a world-class college.
The other was "Happy Dayze," one of the most exclusive resort and retirement
communities on the Gulf Coast.

Paige had been thrilled. First of all, to finally have a license, But also at the opportunity
to live in what seemed like an exotic fantasy locale. It turned out to be a fantasy all right
-- but not exactly one tailored to her personal specifications. Only a very select few
were allowed to "emigrate" from America to Chagrin Falls. The vast majority of them
were students at the college. Like Harvard and Radcliff used to be, the Chagrin
University was split up into a male and female schools -- only here, the female school
was about five times as large as the males' school. "King" Portals justified the
discrepancy by saying that it was necessary to help rectify America's sad history of
discrimination against the fairer sex. But since she had lived here, Paige's
investigator's senses picked up on something a bit odd. Nearly all of the female
students were - forgive the crass language - hot. Some suspected that King Portals
selected female students that way, while limiting male students to only those smartest,
wealthiest, or best-connected to ensure the status of the college, and to help keep his
realm untouched by the mainland's rules regulations and even (believe it or not) taxes.
Be that as it may, no female would ever be willing to publically admit that the girls'
school's reputation was undeserved. And, unsurprisingly, none of the male students
were doing any complaining either!

Because of the school's combination of good reputation and lax standards, competition
for female slots was stiff -- but only figuratively speaking. The male students were
willing to put in extra hours studying in return for being surrounded by lots of desperate
young women. The female students, regardless of their initial aptitude, eventually got a
top-flight education. Although the average woman took over six years to get through
the program, an unconventional demerit system ensured they all learned everything
they needed to know. The real plum of the whole deal was that the top graduates -
male and female alike - were eligible to move to the fabulous neighboring resort town at
the ripe young age of 35. The vast majority of women took retirement as soon as it was
available. But for some reason, a lot of male graduates decided to stick around and live
in the coed-filled college town - go figure. Anyone who got married or pregnant was
required by charter to "retire early" - because taking care of one's family comes first,
don't you know - and move into Happy Dayze.

This is what led to Paige's professional dilemma: Practically no one in this town was
married. So the meat-and-potatoes of the private investigator's market - spying on
cheating spouses - simply did not exist. She'd had her shingle out for three months
now, but hadn't had a single client. Her building was rented from the monarch (who
technically owned everything, and everyone, in town), and she was already three
months in arrears!

It's also what led to Paige's personal dilemma: The vast majority of Chagrin Falls'
inhabitants were young, attractive, single women. Getting a steady boyfriend was a
rare treat. And getting a husband was practically unheard of. For some strange
reason, for a woman to promise a man "Let me take you away from all this" didn't really
work all that well in Chagrin Falls.

Out of desperation, Paige hired a cute male student as her part-time secretary, thinking
the cache of having a man in the office would help attract some (presumably female)
clients. She spent the last of her savings paying his first week's salary, and that was up
last week. This morning, Ron demanded his paycheck, and Paige tried to pay in
promises. And, although Paige thought she was as cute as a button, it turned out that
her wiles didn't go all that far in this town. Without so much as a by-your-leave, he had
her over her desk, skirt up and panties down, and gave her a good sound spanking!
Tearfully, she promised to have his check to him by tomorrow -- and then promised him
a WHOLE lot more than that. Surprised at how inventive she was becoming, Ron
casually "slipped" and slid his hand between her legs. He confirmed beyond any
shadow of a doubt what he'd always suspected: his boss had the serious hots for him.
He patted her consolingly on the fanny, but told her that if the check wasn't in his hand
first thing, then she would be his servant for the next week -- and that service wouldn't
involve any filing!

As he left early for the day, Ron reminded her of her obligation: "See you tomorrow,
MS. Turner." Ron loved poking fun at the way Paige insisted he call her "ms." Since
practically no woman in this town was a "misses," Ron pointed out, she wasn't fooling
anyone. She was just putting on airs. But Paige insisted on keeping her dignity about
her at all times. Based on the explicit description Ron gave her about what would
happen if she didn't come through with what she owed him, come tomorrow, Paige's
dignity was about to become a thing of the past! Since failure to pay an employee was
a "banishable" offense, Paige had no legal recourse. Ron could turn HER over to the
authorities any time he wanted. Paige shuddered to think what the draconian courts of
this land would do to her, especially since she owed King Portals a big chunk of
change. What's more, that warm and tingly feeling between her legs told her that any
claim she made about molestation would be utter fraud.

Slinking back into her chair, Paige was too flustered even to rearrange her skirt or pull
up her panties. She closed her eyes and thought about all the things that young stud
might force her to do. For all practical purposes, she would be his personal slave...

"Hello?"

Startled by the greeting and simultaneous knock, Paige shot up, looking into the eyes of
a woman whose head was already peeking around her office door. Scooting forward,
she clumsily tried to lower her hem, hoping that the desk would cover her exposed (and
even more shamefully glistening) sex.

"Uh, uh. We're closed!" Paige stammered. Could this lady tell what she had been
doing? Caught in the act twice in one day. Whatever would people think of her?

"At two o'clock in the afternoon?" The brunette had a quizzical look on her face as she
came on through the door. Paige was mortified, but then saw something that made her
think this lady might have some problems of her own to worry about.

She was wearing the most ridiculous outfit page had ever seen. Her hair, nails and
makeup looked the very epitome of professionalism. But her clothes! This otherwise
elegant lady was wearing an outfit that no self-respecting cocktail waitress would have
on. The top was a black strapless bustier, with a low bustline that seemed to stick out
past, rather than contain her breasts, which were jiggling freely behind their flimsy
shield. From where she was sitting, Paige couldn't be sure, but she guessed that a tall
man standing close would have an unimpeded view of her areola and nipples.

The skirt was worse. It was scandalously short, and flared out garishly. It somehow
seemed to be floating feeling around her waist; bobbling around in constant danger of
revealing everything both fore and aft. Its nervous occupant was obviously trying to
keep the movement contained, but she seemed afraid to actually touch the garment, for
fear anything she tried to do would only aggravate the situation. Her shoes were 8"
platform heals, and it was clear this lady was new to the experience. She walked into
the office; wobbling precariously; hips gyrating. She awkwardly plopped into a chair,
sticking her arms out to catch herself, and momentarily neglecting to control her
wayward skirt. It flared up wildly, as her legs splayed apart, exposing everything to
Paige. Absolutely everything, as it turned out. Paige was shocked to see that this tart
didn't even have on any underpants. At the same time, her top bobbed down too,
revealing all her charms, both top and bottom.

Ordinarily, Paige would have been outraged. But it was obvious this poor lady was
even more embarrassed than the detective. Forgetting her own recent embarrassment,
Paige had to stifle a giggle. "Look, I don't know who put you up to this, but this isn't
really the time or place for a practical joke..."

Cringing, the under-dressed mystery lady was nonplused by the impression her attire
gave. It was almost as if she didn't want to be dressed in such a ridiculously
provocative manner. Her pleading eyes gave Paige pause. "No, no. It's not the way it
looks. My name is Wanda Fitzgerald. *I* am the one who is the victim of a prank, and I
need to hire you." She hefted her Louis Vuitton purse onto the desk. "Please, just
listen to my story..."

i'm intrigued! post more please!

Intruiging start, well written and somewhat amusing. I like the episode descriptions

This is my kind of thing. I'm a sucker for ENF stories that have a developed plot.

A very promising start! I'm looking forward to the next installments!

CHAPTER TWO


Paige's ears pricked up at the prospect of a paying client. Prank or no, she decided to
hear this lady out. As it happened, she was actually a professor at the local college.
Although they were all recent grads, she and several other instructors had decided to
break the "glass wall" and bring civilization to the male side of the campus. They set up
a trial program, where they would replace some of the male professors in their class
lectures. Most of the classes were hard sciences and technology, but the women
insisted on injecting what these poor eggheads needed most: some good old-
fashioned liberal arts. At first everything went well. Of course the men complained
about the "wasted time" and "interruption to their course work." But that didn't matter;
the feminists were getting their point across, and that was the important thing.

Then some... strange occurrences began to creep in. At first it was nothing. Wanda
would notice a favorite bra or pair of panties had been misplaced. Then it was
sweaters and whole pantsuits. But eventually, her wardrobe consisted of nothing
except her very shortest skirts and sexiest panties. Then the REALLY inexplicable
things started happening.

While at school, professor Simms suddenly realized that their panties had vanished -
right off of her sensitive little tushie! Wanda distinctly remembered putting on the
scandalous thong -- it was the last one she could find in her otherwise barren negligee
drawer. She never even knew exactly why she had the thing -- which she despairingly
referred to as a piece of "butt floss." All morning, she had been aware of the
sensations that left her constantly fixated on portions of her anatomy which no
professional lady should dwell on while she is trying to mold the minds of
impressionable 18-year-old boys.

But then, inexplicably, she noticed that the wispy lingerie was no longer in contact with
her highly sensitized private places. Amazingly, she had absolutely no recollection of
removing the garment -- all she knew was she felt vaguely liberated and more free, and
after a while she suddenly realized why that was: cool, fresh air was gently caressing
her delicate backside (and frontside); in front of her all-male students; right in the
middle of a lecture on the proper respect due, and decorum expected of, a proper lady!
Freezing in mid-word, she awkwardly patted herself down, but she felt no trace of the
wispy little "tramp panties." No, she was sure they were gone, and not just nestled into
some forgotten crack or other.

As crazy as it sounds, Wanda was so discombobulated by this sudden nether exposure
that, just for a second, she imagined that the fresh faces of her innocent young
students were leering at her -- almost as if they were all aware of her very private
shame.

Blushing profusely, the befuddled teacher excused herself and frantically retraced her
steps. Could the panties have simply slipped without her noticing as she walked down
the hallway? Had she absent-mindedly left them behind in the ladies' room? But, try as
she might, she couldn't for the life of her riddle out what had happened to her wayward
undergarments.

Wanda had been far too embarrassed to tell anyone else about her stultifying
conundrum before now. At first, she had assumed she was just being absent-minded.
But now she started to wonder if she was losing it altogether. In desperation, she finally
approached one of her female colleagues. Now that she stopped to notice it, Carol and
the other girls had been dressing a lot more floozily lately. Only, Wanda had been too
preoccupied with her own problems to notice. And when she saw how flustered Carol
seemed - constantly checking her hem - Wanda decided to risk sharing her dirty little
secret, and tentatively broached the subject.

It turned out that Carol had also just lost her last set of underwear! Emboldened, they
went up to each of the other girls and asked them if they'd noticed anything unusual.
After a lot of embarrassed hemming and hawing, they finally found that every women in
their test group found herself inexplicably "going commando" today! But the shared
nature of the plight didn't explain anything. This only served to make the mystery even
more confounding.

The women left campus early, and resolved to all stay in the same house and keep a
watch over each other to find out what was happening. They gathered at Wanda's
home. They all reported that when they had gone by their places, they had no problem
packing for the sleep over - because every remaining article of clothing they owned had
disappeared from their homes! There were no signs of break in, and nothing else was
missing. Only the clothing; every last stitch of it; even items that would have been hard
for an invader to find. Sadly, Wanda's home was no different. Aside from the outfits
these eight professional women were wearing at the time, they didn't own so much as a
single hair net among them.

And there wasn't much at all to the outfits they did have left. By this time, the women
had all been reduced to the sexiest miniskirts they owned. All left over from their
undergraduate days. Certainly not anything they would be caught dead in now that
they were respected university professors - if they had a choice in the matter. But
someone, or something, had taken the option of any more respectable attire away from
them. Fortunately, they had all managed to stay close to their college weight. But even
a few extra pounds in some of these slinky numbers meant the difference between
being risque, and possibly getting arrested. What's more, some of the women even
swore up and down that their skirts had been taken in - as crazy as that sounds.
What's worse, after the events of this afternoon, the entire group had not a single shred
of underwear among them!

The nervous young women finally settled in. They realized they might have to wear the
same clothes until they resolved this mystery, so they all got together and washed what
they had on. Of course, that meant they had to strip down totally nude. Taking no
chances with these now-precious articles, they carefully washed the delicate frocks by
hand and then, since the slinky little numbers could never survive the clothes dryer,
they hung them out to dry outside. Wanda's back yard was fenced, but it was by no
means completely private. The naked women crouched down as best they could and
snuck around the yard, hanging their clothes with trembling fingers.

Once they were all back inside, they broke out in hysterical giggles. As humiliating as
this situation was, it was also turning into quite a lark! And an exciting one. Truth be
told, Wanda had never felt so titillated. And she suspected some of the other women
felt the same, but no one dared mention that out loud. The women resolved to stay in
the living room and keep an eye on their precious remaining clothing. They turned the
lights off so no one outside could peak in, and lit some candles. Finally, someone
broke out the wine and the girls started to wind down. They stayed up telling ghost
stories, most of them involving fanciful theories about who had purloined their clothing,
and who they might catch when he finally showed up to try and nab the rest. Finally
they all drifted off to sleep.

They awoke to a scream. Foolishly, they had forgotten to set a watch. The first girl to
awaken saw that all of their frocks were gone from the line. The women stood in mute
shock, staring at the empty clothesline, as it sunk in that they were now as just as
hopelessly bare as it was. And it looked like they might remain that way until they could
figure out who kept nicking all their clothes!

Building up very nicely

CHAPTER FOUR


"...and that's where I got this ridiculous outfit." Wanda said, concluding the strange tale
that had led her to Paige's office.

"There was a pasted-letter note inside the box. All it said was: 'Don't wear anything else.
We'll be watching.' Needless to say, we were all terrified. We decided that, until we figured
out how and why someone had pulled off this trick, we'd darned well better do what he wants.
Who knows what other dastardly plans he may have for us!

"Fortunately, the thief had made his first mistake. The note was written on a flyer for
your private investigation office! I put on the dress, and drove here as fast as I could."

"And your friends?" Paige asked, still flabbergasted by this outlandish tale. "They're all
still back at your house...."

"Oh yes," Wanda giggled. "Of course. They're all undressed with nowhere to go! Hah.
Can you imagine, seven absolutely stark naked lady professors, huddled together,
tip-toeing down the street?"

Wanda certainly COULD imagine. And her fevered mind was doing exactly that right
now. But she tried to force herself to focus on the relevant facts as hard as she could.

Wanda leaned forward conspiratorially. "Just between you and me, I think some of
those girls were in quite a state. I studied psychology, and it's what Anton Mesmer
used to call 'a crises.' They're so psychically vulnerable right now, they'd probably do
just about anything they were told by someone in a position of authority.

I know them. You wouldn't believe how important fashion is to our crowd. If one of us wears a skirt
that's a season out of date, she never hears the end of it.

And now they're not just wearing the WRONG clothes. The poor little dears arent'
wearing any at all! This is the ultimate fashion faux pas. Basically, all of their
self-esteem has been removed, which makes pretty much anyone who's wearing
clothes their social superiors. Heh, it's quite funny actually; just yesterday, all those
women were respectable, powerful, independent professors. And - literally overnight -
they've all been turned into a bunch of helpless, horny little ditz-heads!"

Paige Turner didn't stop to point out to that, if one of the other girls happened to have
been the one who took this outfit, then Wanda herself would have been just another
one of those scared, compliant naked "ditz-heads." She also chose not to comment on
the obvious fact that Wanda's outfit wasn't exactly respectable.

It was strange; when Wanda talked about her gaggle of naked friends, she sounded
almost megalomaniacal. But toward Paige, she was deferential to the point of
obsequiousness. Rather than comment on this strange behavior, Paige decided to
strike while the iron was hot. She asked for a three-thousand dollar retainer, up front.
That was how the amount she needed to keep her business afloat. She was afraid
even this desperate damsel might leave in a huff. At the very least she expected
serious haggling.

But Wanda whipped out her checkbook and started writing without a thought. Instead
of feeling guilty for taking advantage of someone, Paige felt a rush of power. This silly
tart came flouncing into the office of a respectable private investigator. She should be
glad that someone like Paige Terner, Private Eye would even give her the time of day,
let alone deign to help solve her silly little problem.

Imagine, a bunch of fully-grown women misplacing all of their clothes. What a bunch of
bimbos! They probably just got drunk, stripped naked and threw everything over the
fence just out of lust for the men they couldn't get in this town. Now they're all too
embarrassed to admit it, so they want some third party to "find" their clothes for them.

Well, Paige would just go over there and sort it all out. What could possibly go wrong?

Shaking her new client's hand, Paige stood up to walk around her desk... And
promptly fell flat on her face.

She had forgotten that her panties were still looped around her ankles. As it turned out,
her skirt was still bunched around her waist too. And the tingling sensation the cool air
gave her butt made Paige strongly suspect that her hiney was still a bit shiny from the
firm spanking Ron had given her earlier. Paige's fair skin tended to blush easily, and
she hoped there weren't still visible hand prints back there.

The embarrassed gumshoe got to her feet, expecting laughter and possibly a lost fee.
But Wanda just looked at her wide-eyed, almost as if she thought she should apologize
for the slip herself. Apparently, Paige was still ahead in the psychological "clothing
war."

Straightening herself, and looking as officious as possible under the circumstances,
Paige bravely led the way out of her office and, she was sure, onto the path toward
solving her first official case!

Excellent read so far; though Ch.4 seems to be mislabelled.

Sorry, chapter 4 was posted in the wrong order. Here is chapter three; this should have come before the previous chapter. (I don't know how to edit the posts.)


CHAPTER THREE

It turned out that there was a very big difference between simply having their clothes
off, versus being completely deprived of clothing. As long as the clothing was available,
and they CHOSE to be naked, Wanda and her friends felt like they had some control.
But once they found themselves utterly deprived of clothing, that was another story
altogether. They went from feeling like naughty girls to being social outcasts. Where
could they go? What could they do? Wanda had never felt so helpless in her entire
life. And, she noted suddenly, she felt even more aroused. Looking around, there was
no longer any doubt that all the other women felt the same. They were all stark
bareass naked, humiliated beyond belief -- and, gosh darn it, hornier than they'd ever
been!

Wanda's mind raced. Any attempt at human contact while in their current state would
result in humiliation and social scandal. Possibly even ruined careers or worse!
Chastity Falls had a unique justice system. Students were deemed temporary
residents, and unable to vote or serve as jurors. So the laws were written and jury
pools taken from among the permanent citizens of Happy Dayze: mostly former
students. The term "a jury of your peers" was taken literally. Men were judged by other
men; and women were judged by other women. Whoever was pulling these tricks could
expect light treatment indeed. The phrase "boys will be boys" was practically an
unwritten law here. "Panty raids" were practically an everyday occurrence in Chagrin
Falls. The local paper even had a special section lauding the exploits of especially
inventive pranksters as local heroes.

For women, it was a completely different story. Wanda knew perfectly well what SHE
thought of the other women in this town. If Wanda saw a group of hussies parading
their bare asses, breasts and hot little pussies around in front of the limited pool of
eligible men in this town, she would throw the book at them! And that would go double
for any female denizen of Happy Dayze (or, as the local women referred to it: "Spinster
village.") People would be unlikely to listen to their story even if it made some kind of
sense -- and Wanda and her friends would sound like utter fools trying to explain their
woeful state of dishabille even to THEMSELVES, let alone to anyone else.

The expression: "She was asking for it." Is usually just a misogynist's projection. But in
this town, nine out of ten times, it was God's honest truth. Trying to get a man to be
monogamous here was like pulling teeth under the best of circumstances. Any woman
who tried to show off a potential catch to her erstwhile friends might as well dump him in
a piranha tank -- the feeding frenzy would be no less fierce. Any women who "tried too
hard" generated instant animosity among her peers.

Ergo, the laws against public nudity in this town were extremely strict. But in short
order, it was found that women would report each other at the drop of a hat. So an
unusual rule was passed: no woman could be charged with indecent exposure unless
a MAN complained about it.

In other words: If Wanda and her friends marched naked down to the police station,
THEY would most likely be the ones who ended up behind bars. The culprits who
effectively stripped them naked were guilty of - at most - petty larceny. But with a single
word the petty thieves could send all their "victims" to jail. And even if the police found
the stolen clothes, they would have to lock the garments away as evidence. That kind
of thing had happened before -- and the city paper always got plenty of photos of the
imprisoned cowering nudists in their cell. That's why the locals came up with the
expression: "naked as a jail bird".

This also meant that they had to make sure they didn't upset any man who saw them
naked. He could throw them in jail at his whim. So they would have to make darned
sure and keep his whim happy. Although, the way they all felt right now, that was
starting to seem like a not entirely unattractive prospect...

That was enough! Wanda was as naked as an animal, and she felt as if her condition
was seeping through to her brain. She had never been more aware of her environment.
She could almost feel every molecule of air touching her exposed skin. Looking
around, she saw that the other women were clearly also just as agitated. Their eyes
darted back and forth, all heads turning together at the slightest noise. They crouched
as if they might dart at any second. They seemed for all the world like so many little
pink bunny rabbits. It would have been funny as Hell if only she weren't one of those
scared little rabbits.

Wanda looked around her living room for something, anything, she could use to cover
her naked body. She noticed that the d****s were missing from her windows and glass
doors. Even the throw rug in the living room was gone. She rushed from room to room,
and some of the other girls recovered enough sense to follow suit. But the search was
fruitless. They gathered back in the living room and all the search parties confirmed: It
seemed that absolutely every bit of loose fabric in the whole house was now missing.

They looked to each other for guidance, but it seemed that they were all just as much at
a loss as Wanda felt. They hugged each other, but no one could come up with any
constructive suggestions. No one knew just how long they stayed like that,
contemplating their condition.

"Ding Dong." All the women jumped as one, breasts and butts wobbling. Just when
they thought they couldn't possibly feel more foolish, they had all leapt like rabbits at the
sound of a doorbell. They relaxed, but then realized: A DOORBELL! That meant
someone was at the door. What to do? Even the most incredibly basic of social
interactions was now beyond them. Someone suggested that, since it was Wanda's
home, she should be the one to face the music. All of the shamefully naked professor-
ettes huddled behind Wanda, as if her bare body could somehow shield all of theirs.

Wanda started to walk into the foyer but then, on seeing the large and now curtainless
windows, she dropped to her knees, trying to keep low enough so that someone
standing outside wouldn't see her. The respected academic couldn't believe she had
been reduced to skulking about shamefully in her very own home!

She started to sneak forward on all fours, surprised at how awkward this felt. She could
feel her breasts dangling beneath her, and she imagined that would pose quite a sight
for any man lucky enough to happen to come upon her. Then she thought of the view
her girlfriends must be getting from behind and, strangely, that made the tingling get
even stronger!

"Get ahold of yourself!" the flustered professor thought. But then she realized that was
exactly what she wanted to do right now -- literally! She crawled up toward the door,
filled with trepidation and... something else. With every undulating step of her hands
and knees, she became more anxious; and more aroused! By the time she got to her
doorway, it seemed ten-feet all. Wanda was a petite woman but, now that she was
deprived of all clothing, she felt like a naughty little wench who was running around the
house bare-assed to give herself a cheap thrill.

Hand trembling Wanda reached up to turn the knob, imagining who would be on the
other side of the threshold. Against all odds, she pictured a distinguished-looking
gentleman, wearing a tuxedo no less! He would stare down at her, reproachful at this
shameless display this shamefully denuded woman was making; on her hands and
knees; staring up at him like some sort of hopelessly perverted nymphomaniac. How
could she appease his fully-justified shock at her lewd behavior? She imagined her
head sinking under the weight of her shame; shuffling forward on her elbows, butt up in
the air; nuzzling her face against his perfectly polished Testoni shoes; then the cuffs of
his Brooks Brothers' pants. Finally, without daring to look up into his eyes, working her
way up to his zipper and...

"Oh my God." Without realizing what she was doing, Wanda had flung the door open
wide! She was now kneeling stark raving naked on her front doorstep. She must look
like a madwoman: eyes wide, face flushed, breathing rapidly from her ridiculous
daylight sex fantasy. Oh, and did I mention...?

Stark. Raving. NAKED!

Finally coming to her senses, Wanda ducked her head back down. With the door still
wide open, she glanced about. Fortunately, there was no one to be seen on her porch
or in her yard staring at the spectacle she had just made of herself. She was breathing
heavily; amazed at the thrill of being this close to public exposure.

Remembering why she was out here in the first place, Wanda looked around, and saw
an unmarked brown parcel. Unfortunately, it was on the far side of the porch. Without
thinking, Wanda lowered herself fully, and began to crawl on her belly toward the
mysterious box. The rock-hard concrete against her thighs, belly and breasts brought
her back to reality: She was squirming like a giant pink worm in plain view of her
suburban cul-de-sac! What would the neighbors think if they caught her undulating
about outside like this?

After what seemed an eternity, Wanda was finally within grasping distance of the box.
Nervously glancing about again, she saw that the coast was clear - thank Goodness!.
She reached out with both arms and grabbed the package by its side. In order to back
up, the nervous naked woman had to lift back up to her elbows and knees and inch
backwards towards her door. Acutely aware of her elevated and exposed posterior,
Wanda vainly tried to keep herself positioned behind the box as she slowly scooted it
into the house. She imagined the unusual Tableau of her wide-open doorway,a brown
package inching backwards, with an entirely bare buttox peaking up behind it, swaying
up and down and back and forth. In her imagination, eyes were peaking through every
window in the neighborhood, traffic was backing up and neighbors were flocking to their
lawns in droves to see this bizarre spectacle.

In reality though, as fascinating (and entertaining!) as this view may have been, no one
happened to be looking in that direction at the time -- at least as far as Wanda could
tell. She finally reached her home and slammed the door shut after her, breathing hard
with relief and excitement. And a tinge of something else. Could it be...
disappointment? No. That's silly. Why on earth would Wanda actually WANT a bunch
of her neighbors to catch her galavanting around naked on her front porch in broad
daylight? That would be absurd.

Coming to her feet, she turned around and saw the other seven bare beauties, looking
toward her, eyes aglow with excitement. They all rushed to Wanda and hugged her
with joy, clapping and squealing like excited schoolgirls. Wanda felt like a conquering
hero, returning triumphant to her castle with the plunder of her conquests, to be greated
by her adoring subjects!

Then someone squealed: "The window!" And they all dropped back down to the floor.
Wanda instantly lost all pretence of heroism and scrambled nakedly on all fours, just as
fast as any of the other scared little rabbits, back to the relative safety of the living
room, to huddle together, still on their knees.

Since the women had lost all their clothes, they seemed to have a constant need of
contact with each other. At first the normally staid and aloof professors would
tentatively hold hands and rub each other's shoulders and elbows to show support.
When no one took offense, they gradually became more and more affectionate with
one another. By now, the girls were in constant contact. Once rare among them,
hugging was now practically continuous. No one consciously planned any of it; in fact,
it was when they were thinking about it least that their touching became more intimate:
hips rubbing together, hands wandering toward what until very recently were their
"private parts".... Every once in a while, they would catch themselves at it, but after a
brief fluster, they would soon return to their absent-minded familiarity with one-another.

To the cowering cuties, the world now seemed a big, scary place. Their clothing was a
psychological barrier to the world. Once that security blanket was taken away, the girls
needed each other for comfort and mutual support. The longer they stayed naked, the
more that need for comfort grew. Who had stripped away their most intimate
possessions, along with their dignity, self-image, and any hope of social standing --
leaving them not just as naked, but also nearly as helpless as newborn babes? And
even more importantly, why? Now that he had rendered them so utterly powerless,
what ELSE might he do with his little naked little playthings?

Once they calmed back down a bit, someone pointed out that Wanda had left the
package behind. Chagrined, Wanda squat-marched back out and retrieved it. But
when she brought it back to her troupe, she saw that they were looking at her with open
admiration. She was the brave spirit who had risked untold public shame, and lived to
tell the tale. She was their idol.

"There aren’t any markings on the package. I didn't see any delivery man outside, and I
definitely wasn't expecting anything." Wanda explained, as she tore open the paper.
This appeared to be a part of the mystery they were all caught up in. Maybe it was the
key to getting their clothes back?

At first they were all excited to see what appeared to be a dress and some shoes.
Clothes at long last! But when Wanda pulled all the materials out, and shuffled through
the papers to ensure there was nothing else, the women were left more confused than
ever.

CHAPTER FOUR -- Repost

(The story will continue with chapter 5 after this.)


"...and that's where I got this ridiculous outfit." Wanda said, concluding the strange tale
that had led her to Paige's office.

"There was a pasted-letter note inside the box. All it said was: 'Don't wear anything else.
We'll be watching.' Needless to say, we were all terrified. We decided that, until we figured
out how and why someone had pulled off this trick, we'd darned well better do what he wants.
Who knows what other dastardly plans he may have for us!

"Fortunately, the thief had made his first mistake. The note was written on a flyer for
your private investigation office! I put on the dress, and drove here as fast as I could."

"And your friends?" Paige asked, still flabbergasted by this outlandish tale. "They're all
still back at your house...."

"Oh yes," Wanda giggled. "Of course. They're all undressed with nowhere to go! Hah.
Can you imagine, seven absolutely stark naked lady professors, huddled together,
tip-toeing down the street?"

Wanda certainly COULD imagine. And her fevered mind was doing exactly that right
now. But she tried to force herself to focus on the relevant facts as hard as she could.

Wanda leaned forward conspiratorially. "Just between you and me, I think some of
those girls were in quite a state. I studied psychology, and it's what Anton Mesmer
used to call 'a crises.' They're so psychically vulnerable right now, they'd probably do
just about anything they were told by someone in a position of authority.

I know them. You wouldn't believe how important fashion is to our crowd. If one of us wears a skirt
that's a season out of date, she never hears the end of it.

And now they're not just wearing the WRONG clothes. The poor little dears arent'
wearing any at all! This is the ultimate fashion faux pas. Basically, all of their
self-esteem has been removed, which makes pretty much anyone who's wearing
clothes their social superiors. Heh, it's quite funny actually; just yesterday, all those
women were respectable, powerful, independent professors. And - literally overnight -
they've all been turned into a bunch of helpless, horny little ditz-heads!"

Paige Turner didn't stop to point out to that, if one of the other girls happened to have
been the one who took this outfit, then Wanda herself would have been just another
one of those scared, compliant naked "ditz-heads." She also chose not to comment on
the obvious fact that Wanda's outfit wasn't exactly respectable.

It was strange; when Wanda talked about her gaggle of naked friends, she sounded
almost megalomaniacal. But toward Paige, she was deferential to the point of
obsequiousness. Rather than comment on this strange behavior, Paige decided to
strike while the iron was hot. She asked for a three-thousand dollar retainer, up front.
That was how the amount she needed to keep her business afloat. She was afraid
even this desperate damsel might leave in a huff. At the very least she expected
serious haggling.

But Wanda whipped out her checkbook and started writing without a thought. Instead
of feeling guilty for taking advantage of someone, Paige felt a rush of power. This silly
tart came flouncing into the office of a respectable private investigator. She should be
glad that someone like Paige Terner, Private Eye would even give her the time of day,
let alone deign to help solve her silly little problem.

Imagine, a bunch of fully-grown women misplacing all of their clothes. What a bunch of
bimbos! They probably just got drunk, stripped naked and threw everything over the
fence just out of lust for the men they couldn't get in this town. Now they're all too
embarrassed to admit it, so they want some third party to "find" their clothes for them.

Well, Paige would just go over there and sort it all out. What could possibly go wrong?

Shaking her new client's hand, Paige stood up to walk around her desk... And
promptly fell flat on her face.

She had forgotten that her panties were still looped around her ankles. As it turned out,
her skirt was still bunched around her waist too. And the tingling sensation the cool air
gave her butt made Paige strongly suspect that her hiney was still a bit shiny from the
firm spanking Ron had given her earlier. Paige's fair skin tended to blush easily, and
she hoped there weren't still visible hand prints back there.

The embarrassed gumshoe got to her feet, expecting laughter and possibly a lost fee.
But Wanda just looked at her wide-eyed, almost as if she thought she should apologize
for the slip herself. Apparently, Paige was still ahead in the psychological "clothing
war."

Straightening herself, and looking as officious as possible under the circumstances,
Paige bravely led the way out of her office and, she was sure, onto the path toward
solving her first official case!

What happened to this story? You've had such a good start, and I really hope you'll continue it!

This is a fantastic story..so entertaining...please continue.

This story is excellent...
 

...Is there any chance you'll ever finish it?

This was so good. It's probably unfinished forever, but is still a great short prologue.