Fiction => Stories => Topic started by: SoftGameHunter on May 18, 2020, 08:41:34 PM

Title: Beach Exposure Bet
Post by: SoftGameHunter on May 18, 2020, 08:41:34 PM
“No, I’m telling you, good looking people have no reason to be ashamed of their bodies. Take hot chicks. The hot ones like to flaunt it. They slide into the skimpiest bikinis the law allows and strut up and down the beach. But take a fat chick and they’re all dressed in mumus or something.” Chad let his proclamation sink in before continuing. “I’m telling you, their shame is, like, proportional to their size. Double the girl, double the shame.”

“Sounds like a wager, Chad,” Chet said. “Care to pony up on that?”

“I would be,” Chad said. “But we have to allow for some subjectivity in observation. We can’t just stick an electrode on her head and measure shame.”

“True. Martin, what do you think?”

“Intriguing, yes. I wholeheartedly think this is worth something. We could vote on the outcome, two wins it.”

“I haven’t said I disagree,” Chet said. “But I’ll take that bet anyway, just to be sporting.”

“Very good, very good indeed,” Chad replied. “And with that taken care of, let me share my testing plan.”

The three friends conferred and agreed it was a good plan. They set about right away.

A week later, at the crowded Parkland Public Beach, no one noticed that one of the changing shacks in the women’s changing area was brand new. It didn’t look special. It was just there, overnight, and no one gave it a second thought. With thousands of people looking for fun in the sun, an extra changing shack was nothing to spurn.

From their phones in a discrete spot not far away, the three buddies watched the hidden camera feed as woman after woman came in to get changed into her bathing suit. One set of female flesh after another bobbed and jiggled before their eyes as they waited for the ideal.

“The ideal should be based on science,” Chet affirmed. “On medicine. That way we take out the personal preference. According to the Devine and Hamwi methods, the idea female body weight is one hundred pounds plus an extra eight tenths per inch over five feet tall. To standardize, we should select women that are average height for all weight categories. That would be about five foot five, which is also good because the math rounds off to one hundred four pounds.”

So they waited, and watched. And recorded, because a good changing room beach video for naked women was always worth an internet posting. Conditions had to be just right. She had to be five foot five, weigh one hundred four exactly, and get totally naked so the scale was accurate that the floor was mounted on. Plus she had to put her clothes down on the trap door. And she had to have come unaccompanied by anyone, at least nearby.

But finally, she arrived. The readouts gave her stats on the screen, and she stripped completely nude with everything on the trap door. With three nods of agreement, Chad pushed the button on the app for that.

Immediately, the trapdoor opened and the shapely brunette’s clothing, purse, phone, and everything dropped down into a locked metal cannister. At the same time, the walls and roof of the shack fell away, leaving the test female standing up on a platform a few feet off the ground, totally naked. A horn went off briefly, alerting all beach goers to look in her direction.

The three guys watched the reaction as she let out a cry of distress. She clasped her hands over herself, looking around to find out where her clothes were. The crowd gathered, clapping and cheering. There were scattered ‘woo-hoo’s and ‘ya-hah’s. With her face flushed red, she jumped off the floor and hurried away, but kept changing directions. The crowd, while not exactly following her, seemed to remain densest in her vicinity. The guys followed as she tried to react in a useful manner.

As she had obviously no where to go and no friends around, she was stuck. No phone. No keys. No nothing. But as time passed, a few minutes, she began to warm to the obviously friendly crowd. She smiled, and even flashed her hand off her boobs for a second or two at a time.

“I don’t know what the fuck happened!” she blurted out, almost laughing, when the three guys dressed in purchased maintenance uniforms came over to ‘help’. “The booth fell apart on me!”

“Let’s figure it out, miss,” Chad said. “So, you didn’t plan this?”

“No, jeez, no. I mean, I like the popularity. But, can you get my clothes back?”

They slowly, faking real work, got the shack walls moved and the metal canister out. With one of them, determined by coin toss loser earlier, going back to the ‘service van’ parked a few minutes away, they joined the crowd in keeping Molly company until a crowbar could be found.

“That’s weird,” Chet said to her. It’s supposed to be a rat trap. Never seen one grab clothes before.”

Finally, in total about twenty minutes after the trap sprung, a grateful and blushing, slightly smiling Molly put her bikini on and grabbed her stuff to find a spot on the beach.

“Okay, we’ve got our baseline,” Chad said.

A week later, no one noticed the new changing shack in the women’s changing section at Pineland Public Beach. Just to be safe, it was slightly repainted.

“Now we simply double the woman,” Martin said. “We want five foot five and two hundred eight pounds.”

With practiced calm, the guys waited around. There were big chicks at the beach, but they wanted the specific type. And, as before, they found her. With a press of the app button, the shack burst apart as her clothes and all possessions slid down the trap hole into the lock box. And then hundreds of nearby swimmers heard a horn go off and turned to see a fatty redhead standing naked on a platform where a changing booth had been.

With a shriek of horror, her hands tried to hide her body, which was not easy. She had big, pendulous tits on her twenty-year-old body. As she tried to run away, keeping them from swaying and flopping around proved hard. For a big girl she ran fast, fleeing the spot right away. The guys hardly caught a good live view of her as she ran past them down the beach. She did not stick around at all, but it was soon clear she had nowhere to go either, nor anyone to help her. Frantic and in a panic, the girl ran down the beach to the end. Then, in confusion and humiliation, she began running back up it, crying out from time to time. “Oh god! This can’t be happening!” She attracted plenty of attention, though few were willing to keep up with her.

“What am I gonna do?” they heard her weeping on one of her passes. She wasn’t running. She had tried to hide in the water but decided she didn’t like it.

While she was on the far side of the beach, a utility van rolled up and the three guys quickly put the shack pieces in back and took the cannister. She didn’t seem inclined to keep track of it. When they came back ten minutes later on foot and dressed appropriately, she was there again, pointing and gesturing to two police officers. They watched her as the two lawmen handcuffed her and led her away to the waiting cruiser.

“Oops, that sucks,” Chet said.

“Yeah, whatever. What about the bet. Let’s vote,” Chad replied.

“Hold on. I’m not convinced. Either way,” Martin told them. “Look, I’ve been thinking. Okay, if a chick has a nip slip, her embarrassment is about the same, right? Fat, thin, white, black, yadda yadda.”

“I guess.”

“See, it’s the exposure, not the weight. That girl today was obviously more distressed. But was she doubled the distress of Molly?”

“How was your date with Molly?” Chad asked him.

“Not bad. She put out, but, she wasn’t that good,” Martin said. “Anyway, we don’t need double the mass or volume. We need double the surface area. Double the skin.”

“How do we measure that?” Chet asked.

“Well, if you hadn’t spent high school geometry playing pocket pool, you’d know about proportions. The volume goes as the linear measurement cubed and the area as linear squared. We doubled the volume, which is like linear times one and a quarter, but that would only give you area times about one and a half. Area increases slower. To get double the skin, you have to up the mass to past double, to about two point eight three.”

“Roughly,” Chad said, laughing.

“Hey, so I already worked the math. We need to do this one more time to a woman that’s five foot five and two hundred ninety four pounds.”

“Whew! Will the floor hold up?”


A week later, no one at the Pier Public Beach noticed the new changing shack in the women’s changing section of the crowded beach. The guys waited nearby, laughing in anticipation, waiting around. And eventually, the big blonde girl showed up. The scale under the floor read two ninety four and all her clothes were on the trapdoor. With the push of a button, they yanked away her dignity, and the horn alerted the beach goers to look at the big naked girl perched up for all to see.

She looked shocked, and her hands went up to try to cover herself until the futility of that became evident. Then she dropped her arms. Everything was exposed. She put one hand on her hips defiantly. “Yeah, who did that?” she demanded of the watching crowd. “Come on, fess up! You wanna see a lot of the good stuff, is that it? Here I am!”

As the crowd didn’t disburse, she did a little hip gyration and boob swing. Though her face was brighter red than the last two, she didn’t let it faze her. After a while she got off the floor, but only to sit in the sand nearby.

The puzzled guys watched, uncertain. “Should we put her out of her misery?” Chet asked.

“I figured she’d bolt,” Chad admitted. “Alright, she’s a good sport. I guess it’s time to ‘rescue’ her.

The three guys in maintenance uniforms strolled over to her. She looked up when they arrive. “Um, problem miss?” Chad asked.

“Not if you cooperate,” she said.

“What?” Chet asked.

“I was at Parkland two weeks ago, and I saw the news article about last week at Pineland. So, what gives? Why me?”

“Um, uh,” Chad sputtered.

“Never mind. You boys don’t want me to call the cops, do you?”

“With what?” Martin asked.

“There’s hundreds of people here. They’d loan a phone to a naked woman sensible enough to ask. Right?”

“Yeah,” Chad admitted.

“So, here’s the deal. I don’t know why you picked me and not one of those stick girls, but if you want to skip jail, you take me to that van you’ve got parked around here. Then you each fuck me. And if I’m satisfied, we go back and you undo the rat trap box and give me my clothes back. Deal?”

“Yes!” Chet said, a little too quickly. But all four of them headed back to the van. In pairs, each of the guys waited while Lina took them singly into the back of the van. Martin first. Then Chad. Finally Chet, who seemed to take forever, leaving his buddies waiting while he tried to get her off.

“I counted three already! What the fuck’s he doing in there?” Martin grumbled. But finally Chet emerged and they got Lina’s clothes and stuff back. She allowed them to collect the shack parts without a word to anyone.

No one collected on the bet.
Title: Re: Beach Exposure Bet
Post by: Little99S on November 09, 2020, 09:38:23 PM
Your story had me laughing, thank you SoftGameHunter for sharing. I wonder if they would consider other explanatory variables next....
Title: Re: Beach Exposure Bet
Post by: SoftGameHunter on November 09, 2020, 10:00:06 PM
Your story had me laughing, thank you SoftGameHunter for sharing. I wonder if they would consider other explanatory variables next....

Good questions. Good scientific experiments should try to cover as many variables as they can. Which one should be next, do you think?  ;)
Title: Re: Beach Exposure Bet
Post by: Little99S on November 11, 2020, 09:23:19 PM
Lol - I don't think I'm qualified to advise three misguided researchers. I absolutely loved your last sentence, a perfect way to end.