I really love your website. I saw you already found my site as well (as you used some of the pictures which is an honor) We really share the same fantasies. Would you be interested in email and/or chat contact so we can work out some of these fantasies together?Sure, though you’ll have to send me a non-anonymous message!
Q:Hi, I'm a big fan of your stories, and you inspired me to post my own caption stories on my page. You can find them under "Caption Stories" on my page, I'm not looking for advertisement on your page or anything, but I just wanted to know what you personally thought. I only have 3 so far but I'll be posting more with my regular posts. Cheers!
I’ll advertise them anyway. They’re great! Go check them out folks!
She had no idea how it happened. The priest might have checked the wrong box on the marriage license. Or maybe a data entry intern at city hall entered the information by accident. All she knew was that she woke up the morning after her wedding night to discover a notice. In addition to being legally married, she had also been legally registered as a nudist.
Her reaction was one of disbelief. She had never wanted to become a nudist, and she certainly didn’t register as one. But the records were there, and a phone call to the Bureau of Lifestyles confirmed it. They’d received the registration right alongside the marriage license.
At first she intended to just ignore it. She’d go about her life as usual, in clothes, while she set about undoing the registration. But her new husband was insistent she not do that. As long as she was legally a nudist, he said, she should be nude. To do otherwise could potentially mean big legal trouble.
So she spent her first morning as a married woman totally nude and on the phone with the bureau, trying to convince someone, anyone that the registration was a mistake and should be undone. Unfortunately it was to no avail. No one she spoke to seemed able to un-register her, or even tell her how she might accomplish that.
As the hours ticked by she was distraught; she was to leave on her honeymoon that evening, but she was still registered as a nudist. There was no way she could get on the flight wearing clothes. Her new husband comforted her, and convinced her to make the most of it. It wasn’t worth cancelling the trip for this; she would just have to go to the resort naked.
Walking through an airport nude and taking a four hour flight without a stitch of clothes wasn’t something she ever thought she’d do, but that was how she spent the day after her wedding.
A week later she returned as she left, completely naked. She had tried to make the most of the vacation and enjoy herself, but it was difficult with every other person at the resort ogling her bare body. She had fun, and it helped that her husband was supportive, but in any case she was looking forward to getting into some clothes again.
But another day spent trying to navigate the bureaucracy was fruitless. More days passed and she was no closer to going back to a clothed lifestyle. And meanwhile life had to go on. She had appointments to keep, errands to run, and she even had to go back to work, and she was forced to do all that naked.
More time passed and she still had no luck un-registering. Navigating the insane paperwork that the bureaucracy required seemed impossible.
She finally gave up a month after her wedding day. She hadn’t worn anything since she took off her bridal dress. She realized she had grown used to being naked all the time, and she even started to like being a nudist. She still had no idea how she’d wound up registered, or how she might ever unregister, but she decided she’d accept it for what it was. She was a nudist now, and would be a nudist from then on. And her husband was incredibly understanding and supportive of his nude wife, so things could be a lot worse.
Many more months passed and she fully adapted to living a nudist life. She emptied her closet. Her friends and family and co-workers all accepted her new lifestyle. She boldy went everywhere and did everything without clothes or concern for modesty. She rarely even thought about the fact that she was always naked now, except for when she thought about how good it felt.
So it came as some surprised when she got an envelope from the bureau of lifestyles. No, it wasn’t an un-registration. It was a copy of the official registration that had been filed on her wedding day. To her surprise it was correctly filled out, there was no error. And to her further surprise she recognized the handwriting immediately; it belonged to her husband, even the forged signature.
She wasn’t angry. In fact she smiled. She had no intention of quitting nudism any time soon. But still, her husband should pay for his deceit. And she had a pretty good idea how…
Q:So, I was feeling creative this week and authored a bunch of original captions for some pics on my page and, since they inspired by, and of a similar style to, your posts, would you consider checking them out to see what you think? (Yes, I am politely but shamelessly begging for a plug or reblog.)
Q:I understand that you are really busy to write more stories for now (what a shame) but could you point us to similar stories involving male characters that you have read or that you are aware of?
I know Ardor has written a few CFNM stories, that’s the closest thing I can think of. If anyone has any real recommendations to share I’ll happily post them here.
She was late. She was supposed to have met her friends at the club almost an hour ago.
It had taken her too long to get ready. She knew that. She had to take a shower and do her hair and make up. She had to pick out the perfect shoes for the evening. And the perfect outfit to go with it. And the perfect lingerie to go under it. It took a while, but she was determined to be the hottest girl on the dance floor, and in this outfit she knew she would be.
At this point in the evening parking was hard to come by, but she lucked out and found street parking just a few blocks away up one of the side streets. She was this late already, a few extra minutes walking wouldn’t kill her.
She got out of her car and made a quick pace down the dark street. There wasn’t much on it besides some closed stores. She hardly even took note of any of them until she saw the sign.
It hung in the window, blinking weirdly. There were no other lights inside. She couldn’t even tell what sort of store it was. It just said “REMOVE CLOTHES” in neon letters. It was strange, to say the very least.
She had stopped walking, and looked just trying to make sense of it. Remove clothes? Why? What kind of place would have that in the window? It was so weird!
She really shouldn’t stand here like this. She was in a rush. She had to get to the club. She wanted to get moving, but instead she continued to stare, transfixed.
She tried to fathom what its purpose was. Who put it there? Why? Who was it for? But the sign provided no answers. It just kept blinking its message.
Minutes passed. She wanted to get to the club. She was anxious to meet up with her friends and hit the dance floor. But she couldn’t bring herself to move from where she was, pondering the mystery of the sign.
"Oh!" She suddenly exclaimed when the light bulb went off. How much more obvious could it be? She shook her head, annoyed with herself she’d spent so much time on it.
She slipped her fingers under the hem of her top. She pulled it up over her head carefully so as not to ruin her hair. Then she unceremoniously tossed it on the ground. Without taking her eyes off the sign, she undid the clasp on her bra and slipped it off, exposing her ample breasts and nipples to the cool night air. Her bra landed on the ground next to her shirt.
She stepped out of her shoes before unbuttoning her jeans. She hooked her thumbs behind the waist of her panties and pushed down. She almost fell getting her pants and underwear off, but she managed not to and kept her eye on the steady blinking sign the whole time.
Completely naked, she could finally get on her way. As she walked away from the sign she knew she’d gone from being late to being really really late. But it was worth it if it meant hitting the dance floor in just the right outfit.
I know it’s been a while since I’ve had anything new here. For those who’ve been asking, rest assured I have some projects in the pipeline. But I’m pretty time constrained so it takes a long time to actually see them through to completion.
In the meantime, my fiancée has kindly offered to answer questions here just to keep things lively. So if you’ve got anything you’re curious about and want the perspective of a real life beautiful nudist woman… ask, I’ll direct them to her, and hopefully you’ll get a response!
Every doctor agreed it was a miracle she was even alive; the accident should have killed her. A strange meteor crashed into the science lab where she worked. The lead lined room full of radioactive materials burst open, spilling its contents all over the lab. Vials of serum used for genetic engineering experiments spilled all over the floor. And the high powered electric wires sent lightning all over the room. And she was caught in the middle of it. When they found her her clothes had burned off and she had blacked out naked in the middle of a radioactive, electrified puddle of experimental goo.
None of the doctors understood how she didn’t have a scratch. But eventually they concluded she was healthy and had to release her from the hospital, despite their reservations.
She did her best to move on get back to normal. But strange things kept happening. She accidentally broke off the valve in her shower just by turning it. When her phone rang, she got to it before the end of the first ring, despite it being on the other side of the apartment. And when she stepped on a broken piece of glass in her bedroom, it somehow didn’t cut her foot.
But none of this happened while she was out in her day to day life. She wasn’t any stronger, or faster, or tougher while she was at work or with her friends. She started to feel insane; she had no idea what was going on. Most of the time she felt totally normal, no differently than before the accident. But other times it was like she could do amazing things.
At first she thought it only happened at home, but that wasn’t quite true. She tried it when she got home from work, but couldn’t do anything special. Then later that evening she stood in the shower and accidentally squeezed a shampoo bottle so hard it exploded. And it hit her. It wasn’t that she was home, it’s that she was naked.
She had super powers. She was super strong, super fast, and invulnerable. But only when she had no clothes on. That was… unbelievable. And lame! What good were powers that only worked when she was naked? She’d never get to use them! And she didn’t.
That is, until one day she went to deposit a check at her bank. Three masked men walked in with guns, demanding money and taking hostages. She was one of the hostages.
Things were tense. The situation quickly devolved. Police barricaded the building. The criminals started threatening the hostages. Everyone around her was scared, and it seemed like there was no way this would end without someone getting her.
She realized there was only one thing she could do, as humiliating as it would be. She started to take her shirt off.
One of the masked men noticed and yelled at her. “Hey, what are you doing?”
"Taking my clothes off," she answered directly. "I hope you don’t mind?"
He laughed and allowed her to continue.
She was getting scowling looks from the other hostages, though a few of the men were just leering as she finished removing her shirt and then freed her breasts from her bra. The masked men seemed to get a kick out of it. She was halfway there, but halfway wouldn’t do her any good.
With all eyes now on her she hooked her thumbs into her skirt and pulled it off with her underwear in one quick motion. Most of the room looked at her like she was crazy; the rest looked at her and just liked what they saw. For her part, she’d never felt more embarrassed. She’d just stripped naked! In public! In the middle of a hostage situation. Every eye was on every inch of her naked body, and her captors traded jibes.
"Hey as long as you’re putting on a show, why not dance for us?" one of them said.
That snapped her into focus. “Oh, I’ll dance for you,” she answered.
With superhuman speed she rose from the floor and took his dumb. A quick punch sent him flying across the room. He hit a wall and landed unconscious.
"What the??" one of the other masked men shouted, reflexively shooting at her.
One of the bullets hit her chest. It hurt like crazy, but it had just bounced off her. It didn’t even leave a bruise. “That wasn’t nice!” she said. She grabbed his gun from his hands and knocked him out cold before he could react.
She turned to deal with the third, but he was already on his knees. “I surrender! I surrender!” he shouted.
A SWAT team stormed in in response to the gunfire. They were shocked to see the situation resolved, and the naked woman in the middle of it. She bolted before anyone could ask any questions, streaking all the way home at top speed.
The “Naked Vigilante” was all anyone talked about on the news that night, but thankfully no one knew who she was. Her identity was a mystery.
But the experience had taught her an important lesson. She’d been given a gift, a power to help people. And with great power comes great responsibility. She was a superhero, no matter how embarrassing it was to use her powers.
She even worked out a costume, eventually. Any sort of clothes killed her powers, but she discovered they still worked with body paint. Whenever there was trouble, she’d drop her clothes and paint herself in the blink of an eye.
Whenever there was trouble, whenever someone cried out for help, whenever the world needed a hero, she’d be there.
She was Naked Girl.
"Why do you wear clothes?"
The guy who asked that was just a rude horny jerk hoping to see her naked. But for some reason the question stuck in her mind - why indeed? She assumed there must be a good reason; after all, the overwhelming, vast majority of people wore clothes all the time, and very few people were nudists. She just didn’t know what that reason was.
She was a scientist at heart. She’d devoted herself to skeptical inquiry and following the evidence wherever it led, and she approached this question as she did any other.
Why wear clothes? Her initial research showed that people started wearing clothes for warmth and protection, but she reasoned that neither reason made much sense in the 21st century. She lived in a subtropical climate where staying cool was a much bigger problem than staying warm. And what protection fabric could offer seemed unnecessary for someone like her who spent most of her time indoors. Further research showed that they’re not particularly sanitary and have more negative than positive health effects. One by one, every practical reason for wearing clothes fell to her evidence based scrutiny.
Soon all that was left were the sociological reasons. But they didn’t fare much better. Clothes were status symbols, but hardly the only ones. They could be used for art and decoration, but that was hardly a reason for daily wear. Finally an exasperated sociology professor said to her “Look, the truth is the main reason people wear clothes is that everyone else does. We’re socialized that way.”
Why wear clothes? Apparently, there was no real reason to.
So she did the only thing that was logical.