St Ethelfrida's

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Naked and Funny

St Ethelfrida's Finishing School. A cross between Malory Towers and St Trinians.

I say you girls!" Cynthia McCorkerdale, madcap of The Remove, and captain of the school netball team, regarded her team members with a degree of disdain, "Put a bit of the jolly old effort into it. Don't you want to beat those rotters next week?"


"Yes Cynthia," replied Lettice Leaf, class wimp but tolerated on account of her people living in a castle and all that rot, "but it is raining quite hard."


This, it must be admitted, was a slight understatement as the rain, driven in by a strong wind off the North Sea, was lashing down with a ferocity not seen since the days of Noah.


"Rain? Bug-a-me," queried Georgie O'Hara, class tomboy, water streaming off her unkempt auburn locks, using an expression picked up from the gardener when he'd caught her taking a pea in his garden (Georgie had a thing about garden peas), "can't say as I'd noticed. Bug-a-me, we're not like those soft eggs at St Bertie's we don't mind a little rain."


St Bertie's was St Ethelberta's school - the deadly rivals of the girls and their opponents in the up and coming netball cup final.  All the more deadly in rivalry for St Bertie's being beyond the bateable lands.  The land of the auld enemy.


Lettice did not seem impressed but didn't like to say anything. She was only five foot two and hardly built for netball, but when your people live in a castle you're not going to get left out are you?


Next to the netball court sheltering under a large umbrella stood Miss Amelia Pettigrew (affectionately known to everyone except herself as The Pet) gym mistress at St Ethelfrida's Academy for the Daughters of Gentlefolk, and Dr Golightly, the middle aged, balding and bespectacled Rector of the renowned finishing school for girls.


The girls, without exception, had a pash on The Pet, who in turn went all funny when admired by the gentleman next to her.


Dr Golightly for his part surveyed the girls with interest. He had a strong belief that prowess at netball resulted from a prominent and firm bust and was most insistent that the girls worked hard so as to develop such a desirable attribute.


To this end the wearing of any form of bust support was most certainly forbidden in. St Freddie's, as St Ethelfrida's was commonly called, a fact clearly evident as Dr Golightly watched the girls playing in the teeming rain, their soaking gym vests contouring nicely round their well developed busts.


"That's enough girls," The Pet pronounced in her Jean Brodie Morningside accent, "cut along there to the showers; you've an hour's prep before supper."


"But Miss!" exclaimed Cynthia, "we've only been out two and a half hours and our wing defence," at this she glowered at the cowering Lettice, "isn't really coming up to the jolly old mark!"


"Prep! Girls!" Pronounced Miss Pettigrew, and if you don't go now I will not be able to supervise you in the showers and that would never do.


"But Miss Pettigrew," responded Dr Golightly, "surely the girls can have another thirty minutes. I myself can supervise the showers."


"I'm afraid Dr Golightly that that would be too much of an imposition on you."


"Please Miss," pleaded Cynthia, "Dr Golightly doesn't mind at all. Do you Sir!"


"Not at all," replied the amiable gentleman, "not at all."


Dr Golightly surveyed the girls in the showers as they leapt about, with some satisfaction. His regime for the development of the girls' busts was really paying dividends.


"I say Dr Golightly Sir!"


"Yes Cynthia. You have a question?"


"I was just wondering Sir if it might be possible to have a hot shower Sir. This water's jolly freezing cold!"


Dr Golightly visibly blanched.


"Hot water!" he exclaimed horror stricken, "Are you aware girl of the deleterious sagging effect that such indulgence provokes in the bust?"


"But Sir! My busties are particularly large and firm so I thought..."


"Yes Cynthia, I can see perfectly well that your busties are large and firm but they would not remain so if you were to indulge in such excesses as hot showers."


"No Sir. I mean yes Sir!"


"And in any case look at that girl!" he pointed at the cowering form of Lettice Leaf whose busties were far from fitting the description "Large and firm".


"The one thing which provides prowess," Dr Golightly pronounced, "in the game of netball is the dimension of the girl's bust. The bigger the bust, the better the player. I would imagine that the girls of St Ethelberta's have busts of ..." and here Dr Golightly paused as if distracted by delightful imaginings, "... ...of prodigious proportions," he continued.


"Come along girls," exclaimed Dr Golightly, "some of you still have no clothes on whatsoever. It would hardly be appropriate for you to be doing prep dressed like that!"


The girls reluctantly got dressed. They stuck their busties out as far as they could, but they could see Dr Golightly was not impressed.


That evening Dr Golightly and Miss Pettigrew were in deep conclave.


"Why do I always get the end with the taps?" asked Miss Pettigrew.


"Because you Miss Pettigrew, are the gym Mistress and I am the Rector," announced Dr Golightly lowering his amply proportioned behind in the steaming hot water, "Please be so good as to move up a bit Miss Pettigrew there should be ample room for two in this bath."


"The problem as I see it, Miss Pettigrew, is that the girls are not following their bust development exercises as prescribed. We will never win the netball tournament at this rate."


"But they perform their cold water massages daily as you prescribe!"


"Nevertheless we need a stricter method of control Miss Pettigrew, do keep your feet still, and to that end I have developed a system of comparative bust measurement that we will institute from tomorrow. I have called it the Body Bust Index. It is the bust measurement squared divided by the weight in pounds and I expect all girls to achieve a BBI of at least 25!"


Miss Pettigrew appeared to be doing a rapid calculation in her head.


"Yes?" Enquired Dr Golightly.


"Thirty-two," replied Miss Pettigrew.


"Excellent!" Said Dr Golightly and surveying the lady opposite, her bust thrust forwards by the effect of the taps in her back, he could well believe it.


Dr Golightly had lined up the girls for an estimation of their BBI. It was the following morning and it was still raining. The netball court was covered in huge pools of water.


"I say Dr Golightly Sir!"


"Yes Cynthia?"


"Do you think we could get weighed and measured inside. It's a bit spiffing chilly out here."


"Nonsense girl!" Said The Pet, "Are you some sort of St Bertie's weakling! On the scales with you."


The Pet adjusted the scales, circled Cynthia's bust with the tape measure and did a quick calculation on her slide rule.


"Thirty-five!" She pronounced. She was not surprised. The proportions of Cynthia's busties were so large that had they not been counterbalanced by her ample behind she would have fallen flat on her face.


"Perhaps," suggested Lettice, wiping the rain off her busties, "I could put some clothes on now?"


"Nonsense," said The Pet, "we've no time for namby-pamby notions like that. Dr Golightly can't wait around while you put clothes on. He wants to see you playing netball."


"But my busties will bounce around!" Exclaimed Lettice.


The Pet examined her list of measurements.


"I hardly think that's likely," she said.


"Don't mind her Miss!" said Georgie, "She's the class wimp. Two hours of birthday suit netball in the rain! Absolutely spiffing!"


In the dorm the girls' of The Remove were just finishing off the last of their midnight feast.


"I say," said Cynthia, "I've a spiffing wheeze to teach those rotten egg at St Bertie's," by which she meant the girls of St Ethelberta's, "a thing or three. I say we hide their gym knickers and vests. They'll be absolutely frantic.."


"Bug-a-me!" said Georgie, "Birthday suit netball! That's more than spiffing it's absolutely wizard!"


"Cynthia," a small voice could be heard from the ledge outside the dorm window.


"Yes, Lettice?"


"Can I come in yet? It's cold on this ledge."


"Have you finished your bust exercises? Your BBI was only fourteen!"


"I've done two hundred and fifty."


"Half way through then!"


"Perhaps I could put some clothes on now?"


"What's the weather like?"


"It's raining."


"Bug-a-me," said Georgie, "what do you want clothes for then? They'd only get wet!"


Nobbling the gym kit of the St Bertie's rotters proved easier than Cynthia had expected. For some reason the school bus on which the Bertie's Rotters were to get changed was quite empty when the girls of the Remove sneaked in. The kit was quickly snaffled and hidden in the bushes.


"I say Cynthia," said Georgie, "what a wheeze. The Bertie-ites will have to forfeit the match or play in their birthday suits."


"They'll never forfeit the match," said the Madcap grinning, "and half the village, the local newshounds and all the parents have come to watch!"


"Then they'll be playing in birthday suits in front of at least..." Georgie's brow furrowed as she tried to do the calculation, "...lots and lots of people!"


Disaster often strikes most when least expected. So said Caesar or Horace or one of those boring old Romans in rotten old Latin, thought Cynthia. Her knowledge of Latin was limited as she spent most of the lesson trying to hit the unfortunate Miss Proudfoot, the Latin mistress, with ink pellets. It was an activity which often led Cynthia to having her bottom warmed, as the saying went at St Freddie's, but Cynthia didn't mind. What were bottoms for if not to be warmed occasionally.


The disaster on this occasion had not been foreseen, but had become apparent when the girls returned to their changing room to find that the St Bertie's rotters had snaffled their gym kit. That was where they had been!


Both teams were going to have to play in birthday suits or forfeit the match.


"Bug-a-me," said Georgie, "how are we going to tell the teams apart."


"Easy," said Cynthia, "we've all dyed our hair blonde."


"But, bug-a-me, I've shaved mine off," said Georgie.


"I meant the hair on your head!"


"Oh," said Georgie, "That's all right then!"


"Remember girls, netball is not supposed to be a contact sport. You may well feel the urge to show those Bertie's rotters what to expect if they..." Further words failed Miss Pettigrew, but the girls of the Remove had got the message. Netball was supposed to be non-contact but...


"All right Cynthia," you can stand up straight now," Dr Golightly admired his handiwork - a nice large WA (for Wing Attack) transcribed onto Cynthia's ample pink behind with a large felt-tipped pen, for as every schoolgirl knows the position of each player must be prominently displayed.


"Due to an unfortunate wardrobe malfunction," The Pet's clipped tones rang out over the ancient school Tannoy, "the playing kit of both teams has mysteriously disappeared."


A ripple of groans passed through the waiting crowd of netball lovers sheltering from the rain under their large umbrellas.


"However I am glad to say that both sets of girls are jolly good sports and have agreed to proceed with the match playing in their birthday suits."


A ripple of applause and murmurs of "Well done girls," and "Jolly good sports," passed through the crowd.


This was what the assembled bishops, retired colonels and high court judges had come to see! A jolly good game of netball!


"Bug-a-me," said Georgie, "those are some jolly big girls in the Bertie's team!"


Georgie could not help admiring jolly big girls and was quite starry eyed playing against them. Lettice on the other hand was quaking in her shoes, or would have been had she been fortunate enough to be wearing any. She was playing goal defence and the goal attack facing her was a good twelve inches taller.


"To you Ramona!"


The Bertie's ball arrowed to their goal attack and as she leapt for it her two large and prominent bumpers caught Lettice smack in the face and she went flying backwards into a giant puddle causing a great fountain of water to cascade over an admiring bishop.


The ball was in the net!


After that the game went from bad to worse for Cynthia and the girls. Not only did Lettice spend most of her time sitting on her bottom in a puddle, but Georgie, who was wing defence, was so overcome by the statuesque beauty playing wing attack against her that every time the ball came their way she put one hand on her hip, one behind her head, flinging her head back to stand contrapposto in an attitude that, with the rainwater pouring off her hair and running down her busties, she felt combined the alluring with the provocative. Be that as it may it didn't do much to defend the goal. After ten minutes St Ethelfrida's was 32-0 down.


It was then that Cynthia remembered the words of Miss Pettigrew "Netball is not a contact sport but..."


Now, she decided was the time for the "but" to be implemented.


As the ball came over she wrapped her arms around the wet and slippery torso of the opposing wing defence and her fingers sought out the most delicate part of the girl's bustie. Her fingers finding their target she applied a quick nip and a twist - a manoeuvre well known to all boarding school netball girls as the nipple-nobble.


The St Bertie's rotter dropped the ball and quick as a flash Cynthia had scored!


Triumph however was short lived. The St Bertie's girls were bigger and stronger. At the next opportunity Cynthia found herself held in a vice-like grip from behind, both her nipples were seized in a vicious pincer movement and given a thorough going over. She shrieked and squealed and kicked but she couldn't get free. Her nipples were getting such an expert drubbing that it drew a round of appreciative applause from the crowd.


Suddenly though she felt herself released. She turned and saw the reason. Georgie had joined in the fray!


The trouble with Georgie was that she had never been able to resist a good fight. Whenever she saw one she just had to join in. Even striking alluring and provocative poses for the opposition wing attack took second place to a good fight.


And of course once three girls were writhing naked in the rain, to what could only be described as a standing ovation from the watchers, the rest of the teams joined in. Except that is for Lettice who sat bare bottomed in a puddle pretending not to notice.


And in the fight there was such a commotion of hair pulling, nipple tweaking, bottom pinching, buttock slapping and such general mayhem that it resembled, well, a normal night in a schoolgirls' dormitory.


Miss Pettigrew stood at the side vainly blowing her whistle. She decided that discretion was the better part of valour and did not intervene.


She knew how these fights went. Once some unfortunate girl had had her bottom spanked normal play could resume.


It was Georgie who found herself in the position of the girl who was to receive the spanked bottom. On the other hand, she thought, what were bottoms for if not to get warmed and it was the rather striking opposing wing attack who was applying hand to cheek. As best she could she placed her bottom in what she considered an alluring and provocative position and to the cheers of the crowd it received the ritual six of the best.


After which the girls resumed their netball positions and the game continued.


"Beaten 86 - 2!" moaned Cynthia that evening in the dorm after the midnight feast, "I can't believe the rotters beat us 86-2. It was all Lettice's fault."


"Yes," said Georgie, "but perhaps we can let her back in off the ledge now. I think it's starting to snow. Her jim-jams will get wet."


"No they won't. She's not wearing any. We took them off her if you remember."


"Oh yes," said Georgie, who never wore jim-jams anyway, "that's all right then. Still things weren't all bad. I scored."


"No you didn't," said Cynthia, "I got both our goals."


"I didn't mean that," said the naked Georgie; and standing contrapposto, hand on hip, head flung back she gave Cynthia a big wink.




Submitted: April 30, 2020

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