[ENF] Bad Luck Lacey

[hail2thechief]

PART VI

Tara’s 2nd period teacher was a bit of a push-over. Typically, teachers never liked their students asking to use the restroom immediately after passing period, but she knew she could get her way it with Mr. Neff.

“Ian Neff,” Tara started, playfully using his full name, “Can I use the restroom? I really have to go.”
Tara was the devil, pressing her arms together and pushing her boobs up. She knew he’d have to look.

“Oh. Umm, yeah go right ahead. But hurry back, today’s lesson on the Enferia galaxy is not one to miss.”
It truly wasn’t one to miss. Mr. Neff gave a great lesson that day, but nobody cares about that.

Tara hustled back to the restroom she was in just minutes before, prepared to play dumb as she walked in.
“Oh my—” Tara started when she walked in. “What happened to you?”

Standing in front of Tara was the class president. An upright girl named Lara? Laurel? Lauren? who would probably end up at a real four-year university and work to get a real job. Tara pitied her, except for the part where she was extremely pretty. Long brown hair and a slender frame. But what stood out most was her complete lack of real clothing below the waist.

“You are not going to believe this. I was just in the stall, and some idiot, came in, and she grabbed my skirt right off my legs. I’m not even kidding.”
“No. You gotta be joking,” Tara replied, acting surprised.
“So I just—I desperately made a skirt out of toilet paper, you wouldn’t happen to have anything better would you?”

"Yeah, I have the very skirt and panties you were just wearing," is what Tara should have said. What she actually said was, “No. What did it look like that?”
“Oh umm, it was lime green.”
“No way. I think I know who stole it. I’m serious.” Tara was getting that feeling again.
"Oh my gosh, can you help me then? I really don't want to end up like that Lacey girl. I felt so bad for her."
"That was was awful. At least you have your undies still right?"
"Oh yeah. I'm not naked under here," the girl lied, which Tara knew full well.

Tara let her in on a girl named Cory who had stolen the skirt. She told her where to be right after second period then bid her farewell.

Stepping back outside, Tara felt the rain pick up again as she scampered back to class, shooting a coy smile at Ian Neff as she walked in, then taking her seat. This could be even better than the pep rally she was thinking.

She looked across the room at her next victim, looking so oblivious. Cory sat with her legs just slightly parted, but enough so that everybody on her side of the room had a clear view up her skirt and of her plain cookie-cutter white panties. Tara noticed a few of the boys had beat her to this revelation.

Don’t worry, you’ll be getting an even better view very soon she wanted to say.

[hail2thechief]

PART VII

Lacey’s luck was short-lived as the rain came back in full-force. The branches were slicker, her clothes were getting damper, and the wind was making her shiver. Her arms were tired and the cold was making it tougher to get a firm grip on the branches above. She looked back out across the street, seeing the news team set up their report in front of the uprooted tree.

Lacey tugged her pants up then reached for the tree limbs above. She hoisted herself up and cradled her body over the branch, now sitting just under her window. She felt the roughness of the branch in her missing back pocket, a reminder of just how ruined her pants were. Lacey stood up and walked to the edge of the branch, to get as close as she could to the window.

The edge of the branch was not looking so sturdy. She tapped her foot on applied progressively more force to determine just how much weight it could take. So far so good; the branch held up.

Lacey pulled her jeans especially high, knowing she wouldn’t be able to hold them up as her hands were busy grasping the twigs and brushwood above her head for balance. She took a step back, then moving quickly ran to the edge and flung herself toward the ledge of the window. SHHHRRRPP.

One of the branches had clawed its way through the back of her shirt, causing a rip that ran just a few inches short of her neckline. Worst yet, the branch was still caught under the shirt and pricking her in the back. But she couldn’t do anything about it. Her hands were clung tightly to the bannister below her window.

Lacey failed to consider the added weight of her rain-soaked clothes. Compounded by the branch pulling her back just slightly, her trajectory ended up a foot below her target.

Her frustration was soon overcome by fears of embarrassment. Her pants were back to their old ways, slithering down her smooth hips at a sluggish, tortuous pace.

Fortunately, Lacey had nosy neighbors. One of which, a 40-year-old supplanted French woman named Madame Voyeure, whose front lawn tree had just been torn up from the ground, now had a clear view across the street, where Lacey currently clung for her life.

Shocked by the scene, Madame Voyeure dropped her bath towel and screamed out of her upstairs window.
“Ze fille, ze fille!” she screamed, catching the attention of the news crew above. Looking up, both the reporter and the cameraman were treated to a fantastic view of Madame’s upper half.

When she realized she was topless, the covered herself with one arm and continued to point at the girl flailing across the street. “No no, ze fille, not me!”

Luckily, the cameraman had taken French in high school. Unfortunately, he had forgotten all of it, and had no idea what the crazy topless woman was crying about. Eventually they were able to pull their eyes away and notice what they believed to be a home invasion in progress.

“Screw the weather, we’ve got a break-in, let’s go!” the reporter yelled, the cameraman following close behind.

[hail2thechief]

PART VIII

The second period bell rang and once again students crowded the halls.
“Hey Cory!” Tara called over. The dumb blonde located the voice and scampered over.
“Hey Tara, what’s up?”
“Oh I just had a question about your birthday party this year…”
“Yeah, pool party at my house, kind of tradition now.”

Unbeknownst to Cory, she was being led toward the central quad, which passes right by the 200-building restroom. Once they were out front, Tara excused herself and went inside.
“I’ll just be one sec, hold up,” she said, stepping inside.

Once in the restroom, she located the stall with the bare, skinny white legs peering under the door. Tara knocked thrice and Laura/Laurraine/Laurenzo? stepped out.
“She’s right outside.”

Cory’s eyes wandered around lazily, waiting for her good friend to come out of the bathroom. Instead, she was bull-rushed and knocked to the ground by a maniac wearing toilet paper for a skirt.
Within seconds a crowd of students gathered to watch the spectacle: two girls in very questionably short skirts wrestling on the ground.

“That’s. My. Skirt,” the girl on top of Cory yelled.
But Cory was dumbfounded, and shocked when she felt a hand in the waistband of her skirt.

“What are you doing?!” Cory said, trying to get free. She noticed Tara had come out of the restroom and just stood there, watching. “Tara! Get her off of me!”

All this maneuvering was not good for Laurel’s (at least that’s what Tara thought she heard the name was) “skirt,” and a precarious rip was working its way up the back. Some of the guys were calling other guys over to get the view they had, each one making the same face when they realized there was nothing underneath.

Laurel wrapped her legs around Cory, getting in position to pull the skirt down, too engaged in her imbroglio to care what she might be exposing.

Cory was a sweet girl, and fighting back was not in her repertoire. She struggled to get away, and was fine to let her skirt go if it meant freedom. Cory was close to escape, but Laurel shot her leg out and blocked Cory’s leg’s from getting off the ground. At the same time she gave another firm pull back on the skirt. Cory couldn’t contest it; she let the skirt quickly peel over her butt and down her legs. And back-and-forth toggling had brought her undies down halfway, exposing her pale-white posterior.

Laurel meanwhile, had inadvertently flashed nearly two dozen guys, many of which had a camera phone ready. And she wasn’t done. Lunging out she was able to catch Cory by the small bridge of fabric between her legs. Cory’s attempts at getting away only pulled the fabric back and to the side, treating everybody in front of her to a very public show.

[hail2thechief]

PART IX

Cory had been the one to convince Lacey to go clean, so unfortunately she too had nothing blocking her crotch from the prying eyes of her peers. The down pouring rain wasn’t helping, turning the thin white fabric transparent as time wore on. Cory had to get out of here.

Cory shot her hands down and kept moving, dragging Laurel across the concrete, and putting more and more stress on her weakened panties.
“Let go!” Cory pleaded.

But Laurel pushed her legs down and out to get more traction. Cory thrust forward, her panties yanked further down and away. Laurel threw her free arm out and caught the back of Cory’s top, jolting it back and forcing her bra out. Cory jerked forward and pulled free, her panties snapping back into place as she darted off, a few guys shadowing her and getting in their last looks.

Most of the guys had focused their attention on a panting Laurel, trying to get the best angle possible. In truth, there wasn’t a bad angle. Laurel had momentarily forgotten the position of her own legs until Cory was yards away.

Finally realizing the compromising position she was in, Laurel shifted her legs shut, stood up, and slithered the lime green skirt up her legs, releasing the toilet paper remains underneath once the skirt was in place. But the skirt didn’t fit right.

Contorting her back and checking the label she saw this was a medium, and had Cory’s initials on the tag. But she wore a small. And those weren’t here initials…obviously. This was Cory’s skirt—so what had she done? She looked everywhere for Tara amongst a chorus of laughter from the crowd. Something wasn’t right.
“Tara! Tara! Stop looking at m--” But her cries were drowned out by the school intercom.

“Attention students,” the principle’s voice echoed over the quad. “Please report immediately to the auditorium. We have received a flash flood warning. I repeat, report immediately to the auditorium.”

Teachers and counselors soon joined the students on the quad and herded them toward the auditorium; the same place an infamous pep rally had taken place just recently.

The students were full of energy after the raucous they had witnessed. The teachers had no clue what was so interesting, but most didn’t seem to care. Mr. Neff went backstage and came back out tugging a cart with a large TV on top.

“All right all right, everybody quiet down. I’m just going to turn on the news. Let’s calm down until the storm passes. Thank you.”

[hail2thechief]

PART X: A REALLY LONG, MIS-PROPORTIONED ENDING

This is particular news reporter had worked his way up. Not long ago he was doing special interest stories, like ones about local high school lacrosse teams. Now he out on the streets, but in the way a homeless person is, rather the way a roving reporter is, and he had just stumbled upon what he thought was compelling television.

Our reporter, Sinclair Raleigh Jr., son of a professor, ran across the street, his cameraman following close behind. At that very moment, Lacey was hanging out the window of her own home, trying to get in and be done with the worst day of her life. What Mr. Raleigh saw was a criminal, a break-in, a real-life caught-in-the-act. To his credit, it was raining damn hard, so any lazy reporter might make the same mistake.

“Okay, starting filming, get ready, come on,” he said to the cameraman, now standing just outside the lawn of Lacey’s house.

Lacey’s arms were getting sore. To make matters worse, her wiggling had pulled her shirt up, and thanks to the branch in her back she couldn’t get it back down over her midriff. That’s when the noticed the two men from before. What are they doing here she thought, and why aren’t they helping me.

Yelling was useless through the rain. Her cries of help went deaf to their ears. Lacey looked down at her completely revealed stomach. The trail of bare skin going further south than she ever wanted; her pants didn’t have long. Lacey didn’t want to look, but she could feel the brim of her pants at a temporary rest, just about the very spot so many many eyes had gazed upon already today.

“Sinclair Raleigh reporting through the gruesome weather where we have stumbled upon a home burglary in progress. If you look just left of the tree, we seem to have our culprit caught up on the window. We have notified the authorities and they should be here immediately. Zoom back there if you can.”

Meanwhile, back at the auditorium, students who could care less about the news were staring wide-eyed and crowding the first few rows, recognizing the suspected criminal dangling from a window and watching with full concentration Tara’s eyes grew the widest. “Oh my god.” This was definitely ‘Breaking News.’

A roar filled the room. The camera’s zoom revealed Lacey more covered than the last time they saw her, but nearing another disaster. The few teachers that had stuck around to chaperone were sitting idly in the back chatting amongst themselves.

Mr. Raleigh looked back at the criminal, taking note that the perp’s pants were close to falling off. Amused, he figured if they actually came off, people at home would be talking about his report for weeks. Nothing too bad about showing a girl in her underwear on TV he reasoned. They show stuff much worse any night of the week.

“As you can see, our perp is struggling to keep some of her clothes on. Maybe she should have thought of wearing a belt before she decided to burgle this friendly neighborhood home,” he said, smiling at the camera. "Let’s see what happens."

Lacey saw the camera man’s arms rise. The camera was pointed directly at her.
“STOP FILMING!” she tried. But nothing. “NO STOP. PPPPLLEEEASSEEEE.” But again they couldn’t hear her. The onslaught of rain was starting to be too much.

“Get a shot of her underwear, it’s gonna be great for TV, just zoom in,” Raleigh instructed.

Lacey used the last of her might to try and pull herself up, but it was useless. The pants were too heavy now, and her attempt to fight gravity was a losing cause. Her pants dipped, and once in motion, they never stopped.

Lacey felt the rough stitching of the jeans caress her legs like a feather on their way down, little by little, tickling her legs. Mid-thigh quickly turned to knee-high. Lacey squirmed, doing anything she could, raising her knees, twisting, spreading her legs, but it was no use; it was a losing battle. The pants inched down to her feet then took the plunge and collapsed into a pile on the ground. Her hairless womanhood was again on full display. And the cold, unrelenting rain hitting every last spot, a million little reminders of her lack of clothing.

“DON’T FILM MEEEE!!!” she tried again. But the cameraman remained in place. “STTOOPPP,” she moaned, kicking her legs frantically, inadvertently showing all the viewers at home her bare anatomy.

She regretted ever listening to Cory, at least then she would be slightly covered. But no, now she was in the most compromised position imaginable, praying that the news members would stop and help her. Still, the cameraman wasn’t sure if what he was seeing was right-- He zoomed in closer before finally realizing the girl was without panties.

“HOLY SHIT!” he yelled, realizing what he’d just sent across TVs everywhere. Mr. Sinclair looked back and saw the same thing. “Oh my gosh! She’s naked! Cut the feed! Jesus Christ!”

Lacey heard the orders. What the hell did that mean? Were they actually telecasting this? She thought they were just filming. Had even more people seen her? And now, even more compromised than before, powerless to cover up for so long, throwing her legs around to retain some iota of decency. She found herself on the verge of tears once again.

The students couldn’t believe their luck. Lacey, one of the nicest, most innocent and sweet girls at school, one who they’d never seen dress anything close to sl*tty, was being televised completely naked from her stomach down. And only hours after they’d seen the same view in person.

“Wow, she must be the most unlucky girl in the world,” one girl said.
Tara, standing next to the girl, nodded her head.

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Will Lacey get down from the free? What happened to Cory? Did Lacey remember to get her homework assignments after missing class? These are the questions you want answered. Will they be answered?????!!!!!! Ehh...eventually.

[northernboy2000]

Really love this story - thank you so much!

[Naivul]

Genius! Please write more!

[ewong247]

Even with your typos and missing words, you've created a nice ENF story that doesn't fail to entertain! Please continue!

Also, I like that you made all the exposure from the waist down. Not too many stories focus on that, and if they do, it's only once. And yet you were able to do it numerous times! Though, I can't help but hope for an incident involving complete nudity, and not just bottomless nudity.

[Naivul]

Also I would a series abut Good Luck Tracy where something embarrassing happens to her but no one notices because something even more embarrassing happens to another nearby woman.

[hail2thechief]

Thank you everybody for reading my story and for all the positive feedback. In the beginning I was choosing between writing about a non-embarrassed, fully-clothed, ugly old broad, but at the last minute changed my mind and went with an embarrassed nude female. I think the decision paid off.

It's funny you mention the complete nudity thing. I had written that in at the end, but had to delete it to keep the last chapter at a reasonable length. I guarantee there will be some when I pick up the story again. Just as I guarantee more typos and missing words. Plus I know everybody wants to hear whether Lacey gets her homework assignments after missing class. Thanks again for reading.

Chief