Stripped Hannah

! EVERY CHARACTER IS OVER 18 YEARS OLD!

On the wooden dresser stood medals. Gold, silver, and bronze alternated with diplomas and awards. In the kitchen doorway, lines were drawn with a barely noticeable faint pencil, and signed underneath: 150 cm, 13 years old; 164 cm, 15 years old; 172 cm, 18 years old; 173 cm, 19 years old. In the kitchen, at a small table, Miss and Mr. Jenkins were drinking tea. Both were unremarkable people with the regular jobs, but they did more than well with the task of providing for their daughter Hannah. Her mom, a librarian, started teaching her daughter literacy quite early, and her father, a banker, gave her the basics of math. Their daughter grew up, studied, and tried different hobbies. Drawing, horseback riding, hockey, football. And achieved remarkable results everywhere.

She grew up into a tall, beautiful girl. Constant workouts made her body slim, but by no means fragile. Hannah's first relationship started, strangely enough, later than everyone else's, but her latest one could be heard upstairs.

Creaks and moans interrupted by squeals and other noises came from the second floor. In her first year of college, her parents noticed that their daughter was bringing some guy home too often, without even introducing to them. By the second year, it became clear that there were actually multiple guys. And not a single one came home again. Being responsible parents, the Jenkinses gave their daughter all kinds of lectures about STDs, protection methods, and other things from the first days of puberty. But they didn't dare go any further, until one day another one of Hannah's boyfriends accidentally broke the refrigerator door while wandering around after a wild night. Hannah and her parents had a huge argument back then, but they didn't start loving Hannah any less. They just started being stricter about all of their little daughter's antics. What shocked them more were her second-year semester grades. Their daughter was putting less and less effort into her studies and started working harder and harder at nights.

Hannah's friends looked like they came straight out of movies. A quarterback, the main gossip girl, a cheerleader, an over-age jock, and other similar personalities. Hannah once let them copy one of her assignments, and surprisingly fast they discovered something in her that she didn't know about herself. Hannah spent the whole day with them after classes, and on weekends some new guy would climb the tree into her room and make the bed creak. By today, such antics happened almost every two days, and her parents, looking at each other with sadness, understood everything without words. Hannah needed to be punished. This was new to them. You see, before, their daughter was that exact ideal child, even though her parents did not pressure her into being anything. Now those days felt like a clip from some TV show -- that's how unrecognizable their daughter had become.

The next evening at dinner, when Hannah wasn't busy with another man, her parents - looking first at each other as if hoping one would stop the other, and then at Hannah with heaviness and disappointment --

blurted out:

"-- Hannah, honey..." said the father of the family.

"-- If you're going to grumble about my relationships or whatever again, I swear, I'm getting out of this room and heading over to sleep at Malcolm's, I swear," Hannah grumbled, crossing one leg over the other and looking into her new flip phone.

"-- Listen, you're disappointing us. We're worried about you."

Hannah just rolled her eyes, intentionally dropping her fork onto the plate with a clatter.

"-- Starting today, you're punished."

Hannah's face turned into confusion.

"-- What? Don't you think you should've done this a bit earlier, huh?" Hannah smirked with disbelief.

"-- That's why your mom and I decided that since you like fooling around without clothes so much, you simply don't need them."

Hannah winced. She hadn't misheard. Her parents were now taking away her clothes. Clothes! The very ones she had spent so much on! If only Hannah knew that the price of clothes would be the last thing concerning her.

Hannah got up from the table and intentionally dropped her plate into the sink. It broke into two pieces. The father looked at the downcast mother and quietly whispered, "We're doing the right thing." Then, uncharacteristically for himself, he growled through the whole house, "We're not finished talking!" Scared of his own voice, he got up and walked into the girl's room. Stuffy air hung inside. Heels and skirts were scattered here and there. Two other flip phones, along with bracelets, postcards, and flowers, lay on her desk in a small pile. She didn't turn on the light, so twilight always hung in the room. But today that was rather a plus -- no need to look at a face you don't recognize.

"-- This isn't a joke. Choose what you're parting with first."

"-- Oh, I'm so scared. I don't give a damn, alright?"

"-- I repeat, this isn't a joke. Either you say what you're parting with, or I'm kicking you out of the house."

That strictness in her father's voice came as a shock to Hannah. She had never heard her father so angry. She quietly sat on the edge of the bed against her will and finally spat out:

"-- Socks, socks, happy?"

To Hannah, this answer seemed witty, but her father accepted it and walked out. No one talked to her until the next morning.

Day 1

Falling asleep barefoot as she usually did, Hannah woke up the next morning and found no socks either in her nightstand or on her bed. Even her stockings were gone. Apparently, her parents meant much more by "socks" than just two pairs of matching black-and-white ones. Waking up early as always, a habit kept since childhood, Hannah padded barefoot across the wooden parquet of her room, wincing at the faint spring chill. Dressed in her typical shorts and tank top, she hurried to touch up her hair in the bathroom. Looked at in the mirror was quite a pretty girl. Her face was refined, her neat lips constantly lined in bright crimson. Natural circles under her eyes were complemented by dark bags from yet another long night, standing out clearly against her pale skin -- Hannah didn't like tanning. Her black curly hair was cut above her shoulders in a French bob, making her face look softer and her appearance more feminine. Bangs once neatly pinned back now hung over her eyes in uneven strands. She had cut them by herself right when she started hanging out with that crowd, and surprisingly, her face looked even neater. Her top, like herself, was just as messy yet cute. A sleeveless shirt, cropped by Hannah herself right below her chest, had tiny scuffs here and there, with a zig-zagged hem. Her nipples showed through the semi-translucent grey fabric. Shorts tightly hugged her buttocks, highlighting them, with the black straps of a thong peeking out underneath. Looking at her feet, though, she decided to reveal a bit less today. She put on white jeans and ran downstairs.

Despite everything, Hannah remained a sensitive person and understood that her parents were people too and just wanted to get back at her. She realized she was behaving badly. But her temper got the best of her, and she tried to throw a fit:

"-- Are you kidding me? Where are my socks? Where are my stockings?"

Her parents seemed to ignore her, merely asking how many pancakes to serve and when to expect her home today. Snorting, she downed a sandwich, grabbed her purse, and ran for the door. It was still chilly outside, so she chose sneakers.

After all, she'd had to go without socks before -- big deal. For instance, when mom forgot to pack them for vacation and she spent the whole time in open sandals. Though you couldn't wear those now, and that vacation was four years ago anyway.

"They'll throw their tantrum and calm down," Hannah thought, shutting the door behind her.

Her day was as ordinary as could be, save for a vague feeling of being exposed lingering in her head. After all, when Hannah wanted to show skin, she did so intentionally -- picking the look herself and deciding just how much male attention to draw. Here, everything was out of her control. On a day like this, she would've preferred stockings with flats. After lectures came a cafe, then the gym. Changing clothes later at the gym's locker room would feel a bit awkward, though to an outsider nothing would have looked out of the ordinary.

Surprisingly, Hannah held herself with more restraint today. She didn't flirt, even sitting at the edge of the table in the cafe. At the gym, however, she discovered that the grey, thick, yet lightweight socks she usually wore for workouts had also disappeared from her bag, forcing her to tough it out. Hannah toughed it out until she got home. Inside her, rage mounted with every step that rubbed her foot further. It didn't help that she noticed something infuriating: the punishment was actually working. To Hannah, nothing was more humiliating than admitting her parents were right. Refusing to accept this, combined with sweat from her workout dripping onto the blister on her heel and the sheer fact of being grounded in such a silly way, made her angrier and angrier. Closer to home, Hannah could think only of a shower, lying on her bed, massaging her tired toes, and falling asleep earlier than usual.

There was the door. Pulling it open, she saw her parents standing before her. And no, they weren't angry; they didn't scold her for being foolish, for staying out late, or for spending money -- not at all. Mom asked routinely, as if at work:

"-- So, decided what you'll live without tomorrow?"

Hannah boiled over.

"-- Are you completely crazy? I just got back. I have a blister because of you! Now I can't even walk properly!"

"-- Punishment is punishment," mom chimed with a warm smile. "Take your pick."

Hannah wasn't thinking rationally. She shoved past her parents and headed to her room, her bare soles slapping loudly against the floor.

"I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!" echoed in Hannah's mind. Unexpected tears welled up in her eyes. She was being punished. Her! The smart, beautiful daughter! Number one in everything

Yet somewhere deep down, she knew she was hurting her parents, which made the tears flow faster.

Mom quietly walked in and sat on the edge of the bed:

"-- Hannah, honey, we aren't mad at you. We love you. But later, you'll thank us yourself."

In response, she received only an unintelligible growl.

"-- Daughter, this punishment isn't for just one day. Choose, or your father and I will have to choose for you."

Hannah stretched out her foot:

"-- It's all because of your idiot ideas! Punishment... for no reason! Got it? You guys are stupid, your ideas are stupid, and to hell with that stupid footwear. I couldn't have even gone for a treadmil today!"

Her mother looked at her sympathetically. The blister was small and would heal in a couple of days; with a bandage, Hannah wouldn't even feel the difference. But the blister wasn't the cause of her meltdown, nor was the footwear. Although her mother thought otherwise, she left as quietly as she had entered. Muffled conversation sounded from downstairs, followed by footsteps. Hannah fell asleep right there on the bed.

Day 2

Waking up significantly later than usual, she got out of bed. She had fallen asleep in the clothes she wore yesterday and hadn't even showered. Combing her hair in a rush, she bolted downstairs. Awaiting her below were pancakes and her mother's "We were just about to wake you."

Hannah paid them no mind. Wearing the same pants and tank top, she walked into the hallway, when she suddenly remembered yesterday's blister. So today she decided to endure the morning chill and wear sandals. But they weren't where she had left them. Neither were her sneakers. There was no footwear at all--not even her mother's. Instead, a lock had appeared on one of the shelves. The girl understood everything immediately.

"-- Don't tell me you took my shoes," Hannah blurted out, near tears.

"-- Honey, we made the choice for you. Next time, choose wisely. Besides, it's not that cold outside; you can tough it out."

There was almost no time left. Being late wasn't her style, so Hannah ran back up to her room, cursing either her mother or the situation along the way. How could she cover her feet? She couldn't take her parents' shoes--those were locked away. She couldn't show up barefoot. What would others think? What rumors would they spread? Who would they tell? What would happen to her?

Panic hit like a tidal wave. Her heart pounded. She felt utterly humiliated. But suddenly her eyes landed on a dress. She had worn it only once, to some family celebration, and had never liked it -- it looked way too long and formal. Right now, though, it was a lifesaver. Trying it on, she saw that even her toes were hidden. The black-and-white dress looked like a blouse on top, whilst the bottom flared out slightly and reached almost to the floor, ending in a narrow strip of black lace through which her feet could barely be seen.

Next, Hannah ran along on tiptoe as usual, holding her dress slightly elevated with both hands like a princess, and hurried outside.

The sidewalk outside hadn't warmed up yet, but it radiated a faint warmth that contrasted sharply with the light breeze. Her toes curled at the unfamiliar sensation, and her nipples hardened. Walking along, she unexpectedly let out a strange sound--the soft slap of her delicate soles hitting the asphalt. She walked to the bus stop. Other people cast curious glances at her, but quickly looked away.

The bus's metal floor was filthy even in the morning, but she preferred not to think about it. Stepping onto the bus, the whole station could see her heels, leaving no trace of her former vanity. She didn't even sit down, knowing the dress would ride up higher and make it obvious she had gone out without shoes today. Deep down, she was almost grateful her mom hadn't given her money for a pedicure; otherwise, everyone would be staring at black or burgundy polish right now.

The bus finally arrived at the college. The hallways were so packed that no one even glanced at her outfit. After the cold metal floor, the school pavement felt like a blessing. The college floors, however, were even worse than the bus. Coffee was spilled here, a pen was dropped there. Hannah padded across the tile, praying she wouldn't step on a nail or a sharp pencil. The sound of her soles was drowned out by the chatter, thank goodness.

There was her classroom. It was significantly quieter here, so she tried walking strictly on her toes. Everyone would think she was in heels, and there would be almost no sound, saving her heels from extra cracks later too. But the silence was broken by her crew.

"-- Hannah, what are you wearing, girl?"

"-- Oh... My parents are picking me up later. Said it's their anniversary. Forced me to dress up like this, claiming there would be no time to change later. I hate them."

Everyone was a bit surprised--since Hannah had claimed she wouldn't cater to her parents anymore -- but they took it at face value. In the classroom, the desks hid her legs, allowing her to relax a bit. After the first hour of higher math, her feet went numb. She tucked them under herself and began massaging them. The relief was so intense that Hannah let out a soft groan. Nobody heard it over the lecturer's endless droning. For the first time, Hannah began enjoying her situation. Surprisingly, her hands remained clean after touching her feet. Three hours passed. Her crew hadn't even started listening; Hannah used to balance taking notes with gossiping about who was dating whom. Sure, her grades had slipped, but they hadn't completely tanked. Now, however, she was fully engaged in the lecture. Her friends treated her with surprising coldness today, whispering among themselves. Occasionally Hannah heard quiet laughter, but assumed they were just gossiping about the professor. When class ended, they stood up almost in unison and didn't even say goodbye. Hannah had to gather her things alone and walk home in silence.

In truth, this was better than hanging out with the group. Besides, she had come up with a great cover story to avoid going to the cafe with them. Tired, she no longer cared if she accidentally flashed her pink soles. But what should she do all day now that she wasn't out with friends? Hannah had gotten handy at stepping around obstacles, gracefully raising her arch as if her feet had never known shoes. Her toes flushed red, matching the contour of her soles, unaccustomed to being unprotected. Suddenly, a park alley appeared ahead. Spring leaves provided a pleasant, light shade, and the tree canopies smelled delightful! Hannah used to think sitting in a cafe was better, but now she had no choice but to head in. The path was made of fine gravel. Her delicate soles weren't used to it, and she instinctively hopped to the right onto the grass. The soft, thick turf felt just like a carpet. This alley wasn't very popular, and now, at midday, nobody was around. Unintentionally, Hannah began bounding across it. Like a little fawn, she trotted away from the main street into the depths of the park. Her arches flexed in ways they never had before. She walked on tiptoe, on her knuckles, and hopped on her heels. Eventually, she just lay down and stopped thinking. She hadn't felt this kind of peace in a long time. She didn't bother hiding her heels under her hem. She wanted to strip off the dress, but knew better than to push it. She just starfished out and relaxed. Occasionally, she plucked grass blades directly with her toes like a monkey. The rest of the time, she watched the darkening sky and played with her feet, rolling from her back to her stomach and raising her legs into the air, showing them off to the world. They were already dusty, a grey crust covering her entire arch, but that only made her feet look prettier. Green stains covered her entire dress, but she gave it no thought. Only when sounds began echoing here and there did she realize she had been lying there far too long.

Instantly pulling herself together, she stood up, dusted herself off, and hid her legs from the world under her hem once more. Then she padded home.

Approaching the door, she put on an offended scowl and walked straight to her room, leaving damp tracks and bits of grass behind her.

Lying on her bed, no longer shy about her bare feet, she suddenly wondered: how do feet smell after walking around a park all day? She pulled her right foot closer, expecting a stench, but it smelled fine. Thanks primarily to her impeccable hygien e-- having inherited it from her parents -- only a faint grassy aroma hovered in the air. Closing her eyes, she recalled today's adventure, her heart beating faster, when her father walked in. Seeing his daughter sticking her nose between her toes, he preferred to turn it into a joke:

"-- So, getting used to it?"

"-- What's it to you?"

"-- You know why I'm here, right?" her father said softly. "You know, punishment doesn't mean we can't talk. You can tell us about your day, and we'll listen."

Those words seemed to melt the last bit of ice in her soul. It felt like stepping back five years, to when her mom and dad were her best friends. Yet she couldn't let her mask slip just yet.

"-- Like I give a damn," Hannah snapped, immediately regretting her words.

The words didn't hurt her father; instead, he perked up and asked directly:

"-- So, what are you going without tomorrow?"

Hannah had thought about this while lying among the trees. She didn't fully grasp the rules of the game. "Socks" meant anything worn on the feet. Did that mean she could name something she hadn't worn in a long time, like her sundresses? She wasn't ready to part with her jeans or skirts; after all, it was unclear where her clothes went, were they actually being thrown in the trash? And what would happen when she had nothing left? She chose not to think about that then.

So she chose sundresses. They weren't long enough anyway, and they were old. Besides, they weren't meant for such a chilly spring.

"-- Sundresses," Hannah announced proudly, letting her parents know they wouldn't shame her.

"-- Have it your way."

With those words, he left. A hot bath awaited Hannah, where she could wash away the ground-in dust. She spent nearly an hour there, loosening her joints and resting mentally and physically. But while she was in there, her parents were hard at work. They cleared out the closets and threw everything out, including today's dress.

"-- That's not a sundress though?," her mother objected.

"-- It won't be fair if she gets to keep the clothing she already wore today. Otherwise, she could just keep wearing it until the very last day."

It seemed like her parents changed the rules whenever they wanted. But Hannah didn't know about that yet.

Day 3

Hannah's feet were deeply fatigued after yesterday. The unaccustomed strain echoed with an aching yet pleasant soreness. Now a barefoot girl, she needed a massage--though nobody was going to give her one.

There was no telling how long this would go on, but Hannah hardly cared anymore. Washing up and stepping out of the shower, she was shocked not to find her dress--the very one she had despised until yesterday. Dashing around with wet hair, bare feet, panties, and a t-shirt, she heard virtually the same story her mother had heard the day before. Now her mom stared guiltily at the table, finishing her last cup of coffee, while her father remained unyielding.

"-- They don't even follow their own rules!" Hannah grumbled in frustration. There was nothing to be done; she had no more dresses. How she regretted throwing out her whole collection two months ago when planning a big wardrobe overhaul! Now not a single pair of shorts--resembling extended underwear more than anything -- would save her feet from public scrutiny. Yet yesterday had taught the young girl not to cave to society's gaze. Hannah even began wishing she had walked around town barefoot sooner.

Hannah sat at the table and ate with her parents without fighting, though without pleasantries either, limiting herself to simple "yes"es and "no"s. Finishing her meal, she packed her things, blow-dried her hair, and put on low-rise flare pants with an old t-shirt. The flares were slightly narrower than her feet, forcing her to choose between exposing her heels or her toes. Naturally, Hannah chose her toes.

Her neat toes now resembled those of a wild girl. She began using her feet like a second pair of hands, just as nature intended. That phrase-- "just as nature intended" --had crossed Hannah's mind too often over the last 24 hours. Honestly, her ancestors could walk barefoot without issue, nobody pointed fingers or laughed. Now Hannah had to rediscover that lost pleasure.

She padded barefoot along the sidewalk. The days were growing warmer and warmer. Walking on the asphalt wasn't painful yet, but it was getting hot. She virtually ran to the bus stop despite having plenty of time. She paid less attention to makeup, preferring her face's natural beauty. Her t-shirt fluttered in the light breeze, the flares revealed her belly and upper pubic area, while her thong straps peeked out at the sides--not pulled intentionally high, but acting as a subtle sexual hint. Paired with her bare feet, though, she looked like a true exhibitionist.

The bus floor no longer seemed filthy. Hannah even felt like stepping on a spilled, dried soda stain, though she couldn't bring herself to actually do it. She tried ignoring the disapproving tsk-tsks. At college, however, her anxiety spiked slightly. Entering a different, somewhat smaller classroom, her steps sounded louder instead of quieter. She padded over to her crew on her own two feet, but their expressions were off. Hannah was used to warmer welcomes-- a smile from Tiffany or James's awkward attempts to touch her spine. Today he kept his hands to himself. Their quarterback ignored her completely, deep in conversation with Brian. His friend was dark-skinned, large, and handsome, but a bit dim-witted despite being sweet. He was the one who had broken the refrigerator door handle at the Jenkinses' house and he was the only one with whom Hannah actually wanted to date.

The big guy, on the other hand, immediately noticed her toes.

"-- Um... Hannah... what are you doing, sis?" Liliah, the gossip girl, squeaked out.

The others stopped pretending not to notice as soon as someone addressed the elephant in the room.

"-- Oh, I read about a new trend in a magazine. They say going barefoot is healthier."

It was a lie-- Hannah hadn't read anything --and she realized too late that someone was bound to ask it, so she made it up just now.

"-- Well... as long as you're happy."

That response crushed Hannah. It basically translated to: "You're weird, leave us alone." Hannah couldn't lose her first and only college friends. She tried laughing it off, but all she could stammer was:

"-- Right, maybe we should all take our shoes off?"

Only Brian offered an awkward nod of sympathy. The rest resumed discussing anything but her. Hannah sat slightly behind them to keep her heels hidden from view and focused on studying. Sadly, she could no longer distract herself with gossip. The giggling from yesterday returned today, and Hannah finally realized they were laughing at her. That realization plunged her into deeper sadness.

Moving to another classroom, all the seats near her group were taken, forcing her into a corner. She sat slump-shouldered, her heart pounding. Hannah couldn't accept this. As usual, she blamed everyone she could think of until arriving at the truth: they were never her friends. They were using her for assignments only. Hannah tried distracting herself, but couldn't take her eyes off her former friends. Tears flowed in streams, though crying felt even more embarrassing, so she tried not to make a sound. Yet Brian, sitting closest, heard occasional sobs and exhaling. Once the lecture ended, Hannah pulled her pants down even lower, which paradoxically exposed her more-- revealing more of her pubic area along with her rear --while her ten toes still poked out from under the flares.

Distraught, she rushed to the place where she felt safest: the park alley. Unnoticed, Brian slipped away from the group and followed her.

Like something out of a rom-com, the young man approached Hannah as she lay on the grass near some pine needles. The needles didn't pierce her heels; instead, they provided light feeling of poking. Brian approached and greeted her. Startled because she had been lying with her eyes closed, she curled up and tried lowering her legs--at least to hide her soles. Their dialogue turned out more awkward than romantic. Brian began with comfort, and once she calmed down, he reminisced about their one-night stand, making them both laugh. Little did Hannah know that Miss Jenkins had decided to shortcut through this very alley during her lunch break.

It started with a foot massage. Brian admitted Hannah looked great, calling her bare feet as a striking feature. Then he kissed the pads of her toes. That same grassy scent, now blended with pine, hit his nostrils. Hannah pulled back:

"-- T-They're dirty!"

Without a word, Brian picked up her other foot. The kisses then worked their way higher-- her partially exposed hip, belly, neck, and lips. He hovered over her while she wrapped both legs around him. As Hannah pulled off her t-shirt, a figure appeared in the gap between the trees, coming closer and closer. Then came a gasp that escalated into shouting.

Mom was beyond furious; Hannah had never seen her this angry. In just her bra, panties, and pants--without a t-shirt or shoes-- Hannah was yanked by the hand. Miss Jenkins yelled at her, then at Brian, then at both of them.

"-- You're coming with me. Right now. And you... I remember you. You slept over at our house! Without our knowledge! I swear, if you come near my daughter again, you won't be walking no more."

Of course, Miss Jenkins was a petite, sweet woman. She wouldn't and couldn't actually do anything to Brian, but he didn't resist when she shoved him. He got up and tried handing Hannah her t-shirt, but as she reached for it, her mom yanked her hair. Admittedly, it was tough for her: her daughter was tall and had short hair. Still, she yanked the girl by her bangs, leading the poor, hunched-over girl down the alley.

"-- Mommy..."

"-- No, Hannah... No! Enough! I talked to your father, asked him to at least leave you your shoes, asked him to lighten your punishment after yesterday. It seemed like you learned your lesson. But no, you betrayed our expectations. We tried to actually do something... We..."

Miss Jenkins suddenly broke into tears.

"-- You foolish girl! Foolish!"

With those words, she yanked her hair harder, forcing Hannah to crawl along the grass. No one was around, but the moment they reached the road, her mother let go. "We're taking my car. You're grounded. Double grounded, got it? You want to be treated like trash? So be it. We're picking up Radcliffe from your grandmother's so that your Brian and anyone else doesn't break anything else in our house again."

Miss Jenkins calmed down, but her daughter sank into quiet hysteria. She curled into a ball on the back seat. Her heels left prints on the white leather. Her exposed torso curled inward; her visible abs fluttered nervously. Hannah was alone with her entire life. Her mother was furious and already relaying everything to her father over the phone, her friends thought she was a freak, and Brian had been physically pushed away. Hannah was on her own now. Soon, she wouldn't even have decent clothes left. Before, she had her hopes lifted-- things were looking up, and maybe she would've dreamed of going barefoot again. Now, it seemed not just her feet, but her whole self would end up bare.

And what did "treated like trash" mean? Hannah shook from the humiliation.

Her mother saw her like that in the back seat. She couldn't know about her friends or Brian, but her heart could feel it. She almost stroked her daughter's bare back, but pulled her hand away. They spent the rest of the ride in silence.

The Trial

Back home in the evening, tempers had cooled. Hannah, stripped even of her tough facade, could only wait and listen to the verdict her father was about to deliver. He looked much the same as usual, but his eyebrows were knit tight and his arms crossed over his chest. It all took place around the kitchen table. Sitting side by side near the stove were her parents, while their daughter-- surrendered to their hands of justice --sat on a chair like a cat, both feet pulled up onto the seat, toes curling over the edge. Her hands were tucked beneath her shorts, and up top she still wore that same bra. Her mother had told her not to change a thing, so Hannah had spent the whole time in the bathtub crying, wondering what was going to happen and praying for the Jenkinses' mercy.

"-- Let's start with the good news," her father began.

Hannah perked her ears as if she really had turned into an animal.

"-- We're bringing Radcliffe over. Our beagle from grandma's farm. Remember him? He'll guard the house from the likes of your Brian. And he'll keep an eye on you, too. If we have to, we'll put you in his doghouse."

Her father's dry humor offered a strange flick of optimism.

"-- Now, as for your punishment. You're going to study. The rest of the time, you stay home. Got it?"

Shivering, Hannah nodded along.

"-- And since you love being without clothes so much," her mother interjected, "we're taking everything away. Starting today, we take it all. Undress."

Hannah winced. She scowled and almost bolted to her room to slam the door, but she knew that kind of outburst would leave her out in the cold for good.

"-- No, Hannah, you didn't mishear me. Un-dress."

Hannah obediently slipped off her pants. They hadn't covered much anyway, but now she was standing right in front of her father in just her panties and bra.

"-- Did you not hear me?" Her mother's voice still held an edge.

"-- T-the panties too?" Hannah asked softly.

Her mother was just as taken aback by her daughter's meekness as her father was.

"-- Well, yes," her father called out.

Hannah slowly pulled down her underwear. Her pubic hair was trimmed, but not shaved --neatly shaped into a triangle. That was the most embarrassing part. Her labia stood out shamelessly between her legs, making Hannah feel suddenly shy about her own anatomy. Her long legs swayed slightly from side to side. Her rear--toned yet full--curved outward at her side. Her core, which she usually took so much pride in, was tight with tension, just like the rest of her body. Her heels, which had only recently gained their freedom, felt like something shameful again. Her medium-sized bust, with its raised nipples and wide areolas --which for some reason attracted guys more than anything else-- stuck out. Her arms, surprisingly, weren't thin at all. Her triceps and biceps were clearly defined; while it was silly to compare them to the gym jocks, she was still the broadest-shouldered and most muscular girl in her circle... her former circle. Now those arms tried to cover her pubic trim-- a style she used to joke was made so guys knew where to aim.

Her parents had caught a wave of momentum, wrapped up in their newfound authority over their daughter. They loved her, but they wanted to punish her, too. They were gentle people, but even gentle people have a line. Hannah, without realizing it, had crossed it.

"-- Let's go check out your things in the closet. Figure out what's heading to the landfill."

So they were throwing it out! But Hannah had no room to whine about how expensive her sneakers had been. She walked naked and barefoot behind her parents up the stairs. There was nothing between her and the world except her skin, her parents, and the air--cold even in such warm evening.

While her parents bustled around, pacing back and forth and pulling out every piece of clothing Hannah owned, she couldn't help but notice that her room no longer felt like her sanctuary. Especially considering her parents had removed everything they could before going through her clothes. Her flip phones and bracelets were gone, not that they were of any use now anyway. All that remained was an old folding phone you had to carry by hand, her purse, and her earrings-- the only things left that actually felt like they belonged to her right now.

When they finished, a pile lay across her bed: 7 crop tops of varying lengths ranging from practically bras to ribbed tanks, 15 t-shirts (almost all solid colors), 12 pairs of shorts, 7 pairs of jeans and pants, and finally 12 skirts. Her underwear was nowhere in sight, and Hannah didn't need a hint to know she could say goodbye to the feeling of panties on her skin. Her parents conferred in whispers:

"-- I think we should leave her a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, and throw the rest out," her father suggested.

Hannah went cold.

"-- Well now... we could just send the brat out in your boxers and my holey t-shirt. I was going to turn it into a moping rag anyway."

Now Hannah sank into total despair.

"-- What about her gym time? What's she going to wear there?"

And true enough, the last time she was at the gym, she had whined just because she had to go without socks. What wouldn't she give right now to feel shoes on her feet again?

"-- What gym! I say we make her scrub the whole house in her free time since there won't be any more partying," her mother snapped.

Her parents whispered a bit longer before turning to her with their verdict:

"-- Starting today, you'll be wearing your father's boxers and your longest t-shirt. It's warm enough out. We're throwing the rest away tomorrow. Is that clear?"

"-- Y-yes..."

Terrified, the girl was now entirely powerless, even in her own home. Later that day, still completely naked, she sank into the bathtub and cried for another hour. Afterward, she dried off and went to sleep bare, just as she was. The feel of her soft bed allowed her to feel human again. She couldn't put on that t-shirt-- it was her only piece of clothing left-- and the boxers were still sitting in her father's drawer. But sleeping naked turned out to be surprisingly pleasant. The room was so stuffy that a blanket felt unnecessary. Her pubic hair rustled softly in the faint breeze that occasionally drifted into the room-- a room that now held almost nothing at all.

Day 4

Hannah woke up a bit late; after all, she had no lectures today, but she had completely forgotten that she was now perpetually naked. She didn't even have a blanket -- she'd kicked it off during the night when it got too hot. Instinctively, she covered herself, then slipped on the t-shirt. Even before this, she had liked going braless; having her nipples poke through was a guaranteed way to draw everyone's eyes. But right now, that was the last thing she wanted. Besides, this was her first time going completely without underwear. Usually, she was the opposite, trying to flash the waistband of her panties above her pants. The t-shirt barely covered her rear, but for now, she still held out hope for her father's boxers.

She came downstairs slowly and carefully, pulling the fabric of her shirt down with both hands, placing one bare foot after another on the steps. Her parents were already getting ready for work. On the table lay dirty dishes and the remains of breakfast; all the pancakes were gone. On a typical day off, Hannah would have been living it up -- bringing guys over, hanging out with friends, drinking whatever was on hand. Now, all of that felt like a distant past life.

"-- Hannah, sweetheart," her mother called softly. "Dad and I are leaving. Will you clean up after us?"

Her tone had softened since yesterday, but there was something behind it that meant Hannah didn't dare utter a peep in response.

"-- What about my... Dad's boxers?" Hannah asked, finally gathering her courage. She tried to project the same brazen voice she used to have, but nothing came out right -- it felt as if a lump were stuck in her throat. Hannah wasn't so much afraid of her parents as she was simply in shock from what was happening. Now she realized her parents hadn't been joking.

"-- Oh, I completely forgot," her father chimed in warmly, as if he and her mother hadn't stripped her of everything down to her bare skin just yesterday.

"-- Hold on, sweetie, you're not going anywhere today, are you? Then you don't need boxers either. You can walk around bare-assed. At least tomorrow you won't have to blush about having dirty underwear," Mrs. Jenkins interrupted. Hannah knew that blushing over dirty underwear was going to be the least of her problems.

"-- What do you mean, dirty?"

"-- Well, since you're staying home today, you'll be doing housework. No more partying. Stay home and handle your responsibilities. Look outside--who goes out barefoot in heat like this? You'd burn the soles of your feet!"

To be fair, it had already grown hot. The asphalt really was scorching, and Hannah would have been forced to walk purely on the grass.

Hearing this, Hannah froze. She knew how to use household appliances, but she had always dumped the chores onto her mother, preferring parties and alcohol instead. Seeing no reaction from Hannah, her mother continued:

"-- All your tasks for today are hanging on the fridge. Everything must be done by seven. We'll be back a little later tonight, we have to pick up Radcliffe. And don't even think about slacking off! I'll check everything. Lock the door after us. Oh, and one more thing," her mother added on her way out, "clean up the table, would you?"

Hannah was beside herself with rage. For the first time since yesterday, she was left completely alone, and the old Hannah woke right back up. Sudden yelling might have scared a girl who had never been screamed at before, but she wasn't a slave. Even if they had stripped her of her clothes while she was paralyzed with fear, nobody was going to strip her of her pride!

They had taken her phones, every single gift from all her boyfriends, all her jewelry, and every scrap of clothing and footwear. What did they think they were doing? How could they treat their own daughter like this? And all these mind games with their angelic voices, demanding she play the servant in her own home... She had had enough!

Hannah got emotional, but she wasn't going to cry like she did yesterday. She was going all in. First, naturally, she crumpled up the note on the fridge without even reading what it said. Then she marched into her mother's room and grabbed a pair of her jeans. She left the underwear where it was -- her mother was a different size anyway, and the thought of putting on her mother's undergarments was revolting. To think that just a moment ago, she'd been ready to wear her father's! The jeans were too small; they ended above her ankles, a cameltoe formed prominently in front, and her rear was squeezed so tightly from behind that if she'd been wearing panties, their outline would have been visible to the entire world. Thank goodness her t-shirt was long enough to cover most of it. Still, what pure bliss! She finally felt like a human being with rights again.

And she didn't stop there. What were they going to do to her now? Now that she had finally found her nerve and her parents' orders meant nothing to her. She felt like if she were confronted by her screaming parents right this second, she would teach them a lesson! Oh, the things she would say to their faces!

She walked out of the house barefoot out of habit, but instantly regretted it, scurrying back inside on her tiptoes. Unfortunately, her mother's shoes were too small, and her father's were far too big. Besides, Hannah had actually grown to like running around barefoot. So out she went again, stepping straight onto the grass. Then she jogged along a flower bed. Continuing like this until she reached the bus stop, she realized there were no more flower beds left. She had to step onto the sidewalk. Testing it first with the toes of her left foot, then her right, she rose onto her tiptoes, then slowly lowered her heels. At first, it felt like she was being fried on a massive wok, but after a moment, she actually started to enjoy the sensation -- especially compared to how she'd been curling her toes against the cold floor just a short while ago.

She didn't even think about where she was going. She didn't have a dime on her. Usually, she took this trip every day with a few bills in her pocket to buy treats for her --now former-- friends. She boarded the bus, completely indifferent to who was looking or where. It amazed her how a simple shout from her mother had turned her into such a laughingstock earlier. Right now, she could have thrown her legs up on the seat in front of her and stretched out, wiggling her toes back and forth. But there weren't many people on board on a workday in this heat, so she didn't worry about a thing. The bus passed her college and turned toward the avenue. Instantly, a rush of unpleasant memories hit her: the yelling, the shame, the humiliation, Brian's face. She covered her face with her hands, her heart hammering against her ribs. "What's going to happen tonight if my parents see the house like this? I completely ignored them! I don't want any more screaming, I really don't," Hannah tormented herself.

Hannah wondered what kind of punishment could be more cruel than stripping a young girl bare and making her wear whatever trash was lying around. She argued back and forth with herself as the bus carried her further and further away. It was 2:23 PM now, and part of Hannah wanted to turn right back around, dig the note out of the trash, and scrub the whole house top to bottom. But the other part fought back: "You're not a slave. You're their daughter. They're supposed to love you -- what kind of parents are they otherwise? The moment they start yelling, just slam the door and spend the night under the stars in the avenue. They'll buy you everything back you want by tomorrow morning."

In the end, Hannah reached a compromise. She would walk around a little bit longer and head back home by 6:00 PM. Then she would arrive and try to do whatever chores she could. They surely wouldn't punish her if they saw her trying; in fact, they'd probably praise her. Her parents would think the punishment was working, and she would get to spend the day out in real clothes.

Finally, she reached her destination: the shopping mall on the other side of town, where her friends loved to hang out because it was the one spot where mutual acquaintances from other colleges gathered. She wasn't here to party today, but rather to perform a sort of ritual -- sit by the fountain, sip a cola, lie on a bench. Everything she used to do with her friends, just without them.

Arriving there, she realized that everyone else had the day off today, too. In the crowd, she recognized a few faces from her courses. She immediately tried to hide her bare feet, but what was the point? Her gym was inside. She knew that girls heading to the indoor pool always brought flip-flops with them -- even the thinnest pairs would do. She headed straight for the entrance.

At the desk, they asked for her membership card, but her pockets were as bare as her feet. So she pointed down at her feet and put on a pitiful look, begging:

"-- Please, just let me in. I lost my shoes, and my parents said they didn't work their fingers to the bone just for me to lose them. I'm sure they're in there, please!"

The girl behind the counter hadn't expected this.

"-- Oh... I'm really sorry, but I can't let you in without a pass."

"-- You don't understand! I'm going to get killed!"

Hannah clasped her hands together and lifted one foot, showing her sole. It was already filthy, with tiny blades of grass stuck under her toes. That did the trick.

"-- Fine, go ahead, but make it quick!"

Hannah was ready to suffer smaller humiliations to avoid bigger ones. She slipped into the locker room. Everything was slick and damp; walking across the blue tile felt revolting, but she had no choice. Asking around for help was a dead end, so she decided to search the lockers. The lockers formed several large blocks, with narrow gaps between the backs of the units and the walls. It was always dusty, dark, and filthy back there, but management didn't care. Hannah had always been disgusted by it -- a nice gym with spots like that. But right now, it was the absolute last thing on her mind. Hannah wasn't a thief. Not once. Never. Her friends stole sometimes, sure, but she had always had money from her parents, so she never needed to. Her idea of living on the edge was bringing guys into her room while her parents were asleep.

A few people were in the shower stalls behind the door. A few others were changing at the far end of the room, and another group had stepped into the restroom, leaving their gym bags in open lockers. This was Hannah's only chance. They wouldn't be long, so she acted fast. She checked the first block of lockers--empty. The second--a few bags, but they clearly belonged to the women in the showers, because there were no flip-flops. The third--bingo! There was a single bag. Its design was overly complicated: four outer pockets, six zippers, and several inner compartments. But feeling around the outside, Hannah caught the outline of a pair of flip-flops. They were in the front pocket, where the fabric was thinnest. She couldn't believe her luck.

Suddenly, a door opened. Hannah didn't know if it was the restroom or the showers, but there was no time to think -- she ducked into the narrow gap between the lockers as fast as she could. There was a high chance she'd been spotted, but luck seemed to be on her side. Hannah prayed it wasn't the owner of the flip-flops. It wasn't. A woman wrapped in a towel shuffled past in her own sandals, while Hannah dropped to all fours and peered out from under the lockers. The woman headed toward the first block. Only then did Hannah realize her hair was dragging through thick dust. Wrappers were scattered here and there, a few stickers were stuck to her heel, and several apple seeds pressed under her toes. The soles of her feet were completely coated in damp, grey grime. Hannah nearly let out a squeak, but quickly pulled herself together. Leaving a trail of dirty footprints, she wriggled back out, yanked the flip-flops from the bag, and darted out of the locker room. In the split second before she cleared the door, she caught sight of the woman exiting the restroom.

Hannah quickened her pace. The flip-flops were tiny -- really tiny. Unless she constantly curled her toes to hold them up, her heels spilled off the back, and her toes barely fit on the soles. The thong strap rubbed painfully between her big and second toes. But even so, it looked much better than a barefoot girl wandering around a massive mall. Only the receptionist gave her a strange look as she walked away, staring at the tiny flip-flops and her filthy heels.

Stepping out of the gym, Hannah felt a rush of adrenaline like nothing she had experienced in a long time. So this is why her friends were always doing this sort of thing. Lenny was always stuffing packages of cookies under his hoodie -- he was on the heavier side anyway, so the security guard never suspected a thing. Besides, they knew all the camera dead zones, like the aisle between the first and second freezer rows. You could do whatever you wanted there, the staff at a store that big weren't paid enough to care about a rustling sound under someone's sweatshirt.

Hannah didn't want to do anything stupid, and she needed to head home soon anyway, so she checked the central mall clock: 4:42 PM. She decided to visit only the spots where she used to hang out all the time. There were no windows here, so she hadn't even noticed how late it had gotten.

First on her list was the fountain. Sitting there, she finally relaxed and gathered her thoughts. Then came the burger joint. She didn't have any money, but it still felt good to feel free again. But sitting at one of the tables was a group of six people. Hannah gasped. It was her friends -- and Brian was right there with them. Her cheeks flushed pink. She wanted to run over to him, apologize, tell him she loved him, and say how sorry she was about everything that had happened. Then she remembered the horror and shame of yesterday...

She must have hesitated too long, because Brian whistled at her:

"-- Yo, Hannah! Over here!"

His friendly voice immediately caught her attention. Could she really just walk away? No, he had definitely recognized her!

She had no choice. Hannah quietly walked toward the people who had been laughing at her just twenty-four hours ago. She tried to hide her feet, but Brian noticed anyway.

"-- Nice shoes, Hannah!"

The others just nodded and went back to enjoying each other's company. Brian, sitting slightly off to the side as usual, gestured for Hannah to take a seat. She sat down and finally relaxed her aching feet.

"-- About what happened..." Hannah began, the words spilling out on their own.

"-- I know. I'm sorry, Hannah! If I'd known, I would've invited you out later. You got into huge trouble, didn't you?"

"-- No, no, I'm really the one who's sorry! Don't worry about me."

Hannah's meek, quiet voice drew more attention than she would have liked.

"-- Ah, to hell with it, right? Let's just forget it! We're good, Hannah."

Hannah squeezed his arm tightly in a hug -- so tightly, it felt like he was the only remaining link to her past life.

"-- Let's step aside for a second? I want to tell you something."

Those words both frightened and thrilled Hannah at the same time. Brian led her toward the accessible restroom, where nobody was likely to be at this time of day. Just to be safe, he locked the door.

"-- Look, I know you're grounded. You'd never come out dressed like this on purpose."

Hannah tried to pull her t-shirt down further, accidentally stretching the fabric over her chest, where two distinct points were clearly visible underneath.

"-- I have an idea on how to get you back into the group, but I don't know how they'll react yet. Give me five minutes, and you'll be hanging out with us again."

The girl was so overjoyed she didn't even mention that she was supposed to be heading home. While Brian was gone, she decided to quickly wash her feet. Hoisting one foot into the sink, she began soaping it up. The runoff water was murky, mixed with bits of dust and stray hair. She turned the faucet on full blast, sending water splashing everywhere. Finally, one foot was clean, and it was time for the next. Hannah set her foot back down into the flip-flop and lifted the other, but she hadn't considered that a wet foot is a slippery foot. She began to lose her balance and knocked into the faucet handle. Falling backward, she managed to grab the grab bars mounted on the wall, but her jeans -- and the bottom of her t-shirt -- were completely soaked. Water trickled down her body as she scrambled back up.

She looked in the mirror. Her left pant leg was drenched through. Just then, Brian knocked on the door -- and the rest of the group was right behind him. Hannah quickly rinsed her left foot and carefully stepped toward the door.

Everyone immediately dropped their gaze, eyeing her soaked pant leg and tiny footwear. They all wore a strange, amused expression that they were trying hard not to show. Brian remained calm.

"-- So, the guys and I talked it over. We'll take you back, but only if you pass three challenges."

Hannah let out a quiet squeal and threw her arms around Brian again. He pushed her off gently and continued:

"-- First, you have to walk through the entire mall barefoot."

Hannah hesitated. But they were offering her a way back to her friends, and she was ready to do almost anything for that. She slipped off the tiny flip-flops and began striding forward bravely, with the group trailing behind her. Her feet left wet imprints on the tile with every step, and she knew it, so she tried not to look back at the group. Even the quiet giggles behind her didn't stop her. Her left pant leg was still dripping wet, squelching with every stride. She walked the entire first floor, then the second. The crowd grew thicker, and Hannah's confidence began to waver.

"-- Almost there," they encouraged her from behind.

Eventually, they ended up right back at the burger joint. Hannah turned around proudly, ready to reach out for her shoes, but nobody was holding them.

"-- Come on, Hannah, you're just toughening up, right?"

Even that didn't break her resolve. She tried to laugh it off:

"-- Yeah, I'm used to it by now. My soles are almost as tough as shoe leather."

With those words, she held up her heel. Someone behind her pinched their nose, and a girl's voice giggled softly. Hannah lost the last remnants of her confidence and slouched into a chair.

"-- Challenge two! You have to jump into the fountain."

What? That was completely insane. Hannah began to protest, but Brian cut her off before she could raise her voice:

"-- Think about it, Hannah! The guys are giving you one last chance. You don't want to spend the next few years completely alone, do you?"

No, Hannah didn't want that. So they went downstairs. The fountain basin was deep--large enough to fit a big dog easily. Hannah began backing away, but the group nudged her forward. There weren't many people around; who would want to sit by the fountain when there were so many stores to browse? That was why the group loved this spot in the first place.

"-- Do it, do it!" the crowd chanted. Hannah gestured for them to quiet down.

"-- Fine, fine... just give me... give me a second to prepare."

Suddenly, Brian's friend -- Mitch, the quarterback -- grabbed her and practically threw her into the fountain. Water splashed everywhere, sending ripples across the pool. People immediately gathered at the sound. Almost crying, Hannah scrambled out. Her face was soaked, her arms were soaked, her legs were soaked -- but most importantly, her clothes were drenched. The wet t-shirt clung tightly to her torso, revealing her defined waistline, but everyone's eyes were drawn elsewhere: her nipples had hardened from the cold water. A faint breeze blew from somewhere on the right, which Hannah would never have noticed if she hadn't been soaking wet. Shivering, she stepped out and walked toward her friends. Some of them could no longer contain their laughter, and then everyone looked down: the cameltoe pressed through her wet jeans even more prominently than her chest. One guy burst out laughing at the top of his lungs.

"-- Hey, hey, Hannah," Brian said, putting an arm around her shoulder. "We're just messing around. You gave us a good laugh, it's all good."

Hannah was ready to believe anything at that point, but right now, all she wanted was to get out of there. Bystanders gasped and whispered, and some even pulled out their phones to record her. The group moved away quickly before security could arrive. Hannah tried to keep up, but her legs felt like lead. She kept trying to pull the soaked fabric down over her rear, but it wouldn't stay.

"-- Third challenge," Brian announced. "You have to steal something from the grocery store."

No, no, this had to be a nightmare. How was she supposed to steal anything in this state? Where would she even hide it?

Without waiting for an answer, her friends headed into the store. Everyone around them was staring--at Hannah's nipples, her rear, her bare feet, and the squelching sounds coming from her drenched clothes. Finally, they stopped in the freezer aisle. Hannah shivered. She tried to hide behind Brian and hug him, but he shoved her away roughly.

"-- Come on, steal something already."

Hannah had gone too far to turn back now. Laughing faces surrounded her, pressing her up against the freezer display. Someone handed Brian a pack of disposable razors; the box was small.

"-- Here, you need this," Brian said, holding the package out to her. It would have easily fit under her t-shirt like Lenny used to do, but her t-shirt was soaked through and sticking to her skin.

"-- Look, just stuff it in your pants," Brian suggested with a completely straight face. "What else are you gonna do? We'll cover you on the way out, nobody will notice. Unbox them now and shove as many as you can between your cheeks. We'll hide the cardboard box under the freezer."

Hannah unbuttoned her mother's tight jeans. One razor went in, then a second. They pressed uncomfortably against her skin, scratching her.

"-- I-I can't fit any more," the poor girl whispered, on the verge of tears.

"-- Then put them in the front!"

Now Hannah was fully exposed. Her trimmed pubic hair was visible to everyone.

"-- Perfect, now you can shave that hair off," Mitch cracked.

Three, four... that seemed to be all of them. She couldn't walk properly -- everything poked and scratched against her raw skin. She just wanted to go home. She never wanted to show her face in public again.

They walked toward the exit, surrounding her in a tight pack just as Brian had promised. Suddenly, Brian broke into a sprint up ahead, and the rest of the group followed right behind him. Hannah tried to hurry after them, but the alarm blared loudly as Mitch passed through the sensors. Laughing hysterically, the group sprinted off into the distance, leaving a tearful Hannah standing at the exit alone.

A security guard hurried over. Standing before him was a girl with tear-stained eyes, matted hair, and lips trembling in unison with the rest of her body. Her chest was completely visible through her wet shirt, her groin was on full display through her open, stuffed jeans, and she had no shoes on her feet. Razor packs were visibly shoved into her pants, and her legs were held awkwardly far apart. The gathering crowd watched with shock as the mall security guard led the wretched thief off toward his office, holding her by the arm with a look of utter disgust.

Consequences

Hannah barely remembered what happened next. The cheese-scented closet that served as the chief of security's office. Security camera feeds flickering on screens left and right. His cot tucked away in the corner. She stood in front of him, trying to cover herself as if she were completely naked. She still couldn't bring herself to believe that Brian had betrayed her like that. She didn't even feel anger; she just wanted the earth to open up and swallow her whole. Glancing at the guard's wristwatch, she caught the time: 7:28 PM.

"-- Start undressing," the guard said routinely.

"-- S-sir! Please! I'm sorry! Don't! M-my friends... and I...", the girl stammered, choking on her words.

"-- I hear that same story a hundred times a day! Get undressed! You're already soaked anyway!"

"-- Y-yes, sir..." Hannah lowered her head. She had already been humiliated and stripped before her parents, now she had to stand like this in front of a total stranger.

"-- Give me their phone number. And put everything you stole right here on the desk."

While the guard dialed her parents and talked to them, Hannah stripped off her wet clothes and laid four damp razor packs on the desk. A puddle formed beneath her feet, soaking her soles completely. She hugged herself, shivering uncontrollably. The relief when she finally pulled those razor packs out was indescribable -- at last, she could stand up straight. But did standing straight even matter anymore?

"-- Arms at your sides. Stand up straight."

After a day like this, Hannah was completely spent. She hadn't eaten a thing all day and had drunk nothing except a few gulps of fountain water.

"-- S-sir... Can I sit down?"

"-- Sure, so you can soak the whole room? Sit down on your ass then."

She obeyed immediately; there was no energy left to argue. She sat right down in her own puddle. The cold liquid pressed against her rear and her exposed groin, but she was already drenched through anyway.

It felt as though they sat there for an eternity. The guard finished his call with her parents, leaving Hannah sitting on the floor below him. Then came the waiting. Hannah tried to say something once more, but the guard slammed his hand against the radiator.

"-- Shut your mouth!" he yelled.

Hannah curled into a ball and burst into tears. The guard didn't care in the slightest.

Her parents finally arrived. They stepped into the cramped office and signed the paperwork. Since it was her first offense, Hannah was let go without charges, though her parents paid for the damaged razor packs and took them along. Hannah had braced herself for yelling and cursing right then and there, but as they left the office -- after she had pulled her wet clothes back on -- her parents simply began comforting her.

"-- The main thing is that it's over now," her mother whispered, guiding her gently by the shoulders.

Once they exited the mall and got into the car, however, her parents couldn't hold it in any longer.

"-- Take off your clothes," her father said through gritted teeth.

"-- Dad! Mom! My friends! They... forced me... and...", Hannah gestured wildly, her spirits momentarily lifted as she tried to explain. She had been so relieved, thinking her parents were taking her side!

"-- Undress," her mother repeated.

"-- But...", Hannah whispered softly to herself rather than to them.

"-- You ungrateful brat! We thought you learned your lesson! We thought we raised a good daughter! We thought we had just spoiled you a little! Oh, your life isn't going to be so sweet anymore, believe me!" her mother screamed in pure rage, worse than at the alley. Her father put the car in drive.

"-- But Mom!" Hannah objected louder this time.

Her father slammed on the brakes.

"-- What, are you deaf now, too? You were told to take off your clothes."

Hannah began to tremble again. Still damp, she pulled off everything she had on and sat completely naked in the backseat. Her father stepped out of the car with the wet bundle of clothing and tossed it into a nearby trash bin.

"-- Is the message clear now?" her father said, getting back into the driver's seat.

The message was crystal clear to Hannah.