Sophie's New Perversions

This fantasy story is based very loosely on the comic "Sophie's Curious Perversions" by Von Gotha. That story took place in 1958 London. This one takes place in 2002, in Portland, Oregon.

Chapter 1: Sophie's 18th Birthday

Hi. I'm Sophie Anderson. I live in Portland, Oregon and I am a senior at Pacific Academy. It's a private school. One of those where we all have to wear uniforms and are expected to behave properly and get into a good college. Every day, I put on my green plaid skirt, white blouse, green tie, green blazer, white knee-high socks, and saddle shoes and head to school. It helps that we all dress the same because we only get noticed for what we do, not how we look. Even the boys have to wear dark green slacks, white shirts, ties, and green blazers. And besides, green looks great with my red hair. It's my favorite color.

I am writing this to tell about my recent "conversion" to a new way of thinking.

My best friend in the whole world is Tracey. She and I have been friends and lived in the same apartment building since we were born. In fact, we were supposed to be born on the same day, but she's two months older because she was a preemie. We always told each other everything and did things together whenever we could. Her parents even waited when it was time for her to start kindergarten so we would be in school together. If it wasn't for that, I would be the oldest person in our class since my birthday is just after the August 1 deadline. We have gone to the same school and were in all of our classes together until high school. I began to concentrate on science and Tracey began to concentrate on languages when we reached that level. But we still saw each other every day and spent most of our free time together.

But in the last two months, since her eighteenth birthday on June 12, Tracey has changed. No big thing, but lots of little ones. Like, she got her skirts shortened and then sometimes rolls the waistband over to make them even shorter. She leaves enough buttons undone that her bra sometimes shows. On weekends, if I see her at all anymore, she wears really short skirts or shorts. When we went to a swimming party last month, her bikini looked like it was just three postage stamps held together with string and she flirted with every male she saw. Her big boobs and long blonde hair make her the desire of all men and she liked the attention, I guess. She just wasn't the same as she used to be. Lately, she has been acting like a slut and I have even told her so, but she just laughs.

We started school on August 5th this year. All the public school kids were still on summer vacation, but we had school from the beginning of August until the last week of June every year. I felt a little strange going to school this year. All of our classes were in "Senior Hall" away from most of the underclassmen. We were being prepared for college. Besides that, my mom and Tracey had spent all of July changing me from "a little girl into a woman," as they liked to say. First, Mom got me contacts to replace my glasses. Then they had my hair restyled and made me promise never to wear it in a bun again. Now I sometimes put it in pigtails or a ponytail if I'm in a hurry, but otherwise I wear it styled loosely over my shoulders. They even made me start wearing earrings and makeup. I had to admit I did look prettier, but I was a late bloomer. I didn't even start my period until I was 15 and it seemed like just last year, was the first time I actually needed a bra, though Mom made me start wearing one in seventh grade. It was called a "training bra." What a joke. For training what?

I was at school on my eighteenth birthday - a Wednesday, August 14th. So far, it hadn't been much of a birthday.

I was walking down the hall with Tracey, after our last period history class. The teacher, Mr. Randall, had spent way too much time talking about the Ancient Romans and the perversions that had led to the downfall of their empire. Tracey said, "Wasn't that amazing?"

I stopped and looked at her. "You probably enjoyed that, you pervert." I had called her that, or a slut, ever since she started dressing like a slut and told me about how she played with herself sometimes. She had rolled the waistband of her skirt a couple of times so it was short enough that if she bent over her panties would show. Like usual, she had a couple extra buttons undone on her blouse, too. I could see the top of her black lace bra and plenty of cleavage. "I wish I could take extra chemistry or computer science and skip that history altogether." I never had told Tracey that sometimes I played with myself too. I was too embarrassed and usually felt guilty for days.

"Oh, you prude. Someday you'll change," she came back at me with a laugh.

About that time we rounded a corner where a group of boys were standing together. One of them, Johnny, held up a banana in my face and said, "Hey Sophie, you want some of my banana? Or is it too big for you?"

A redheaded, deeply freckled boy named Ralph held up a big carrot and said, "How about my carrot instead, Sophie? It's harder."

A boy named Byron pushed between them. "Hey guys, she's no vegetarian, she's probably a meat eater. She'd rather have a big sausage." He waved a hot dog at me.

I pushed past them; called them perverts, and Tracey and I continued down the hall to the front door. I could hear them giggling and calling me a stuck-up virgin. Even Tracey was laughing. "Some fun, Tracey. Probably inspired by the Mr. Randall and those Romans," I muttered as I headed out the door. It was things like this that made me wish I hadn't let Mom talk me into changing my hair style and getting contacts instead of glasses. When my hair was up in a bun and I had my black-rimmed glasses on, the boys had never treated me like that. Now, my senior year would be spent listening to outrageous comments just because I was pretty.

Just then Tracey stopped and said, "Oops, I forgot. I have to stay after for some extra violin practice. Guess you'll have to walk home alone, Little Red. Watch out for the Big Bad Wolf!" She turned and headed back into school. Ever since I was a baby, Tracey and her parents have called me Little Red. My mom has red hair too and they called her Red, so I became Little Red.

Tracey and I used to always walk home to our apartment building together. It's about 10 blocks, long enough to be a real pain in our skirts in cold weather. At least in the heat of August, that wouldn't be a problem. I headed out alone.

I had gone about three blocks when I noticed there were some scruffy-looking men just behind me. I speeded up a little. The two men came up on either side of me, grabbed my arms, lifted me off the sidewalk and headed for an alley. I was kicking and screaming, but they didn't seem to notice. I was terrified. One of the men pulled my backpack off and jerked down on my blazer until it was in the middle of my back, pinning my arms. I fell to the ground, skinning me knees and would have fallen on my face, except the man behind me jerked me back to my feet.

The other man grabbed the front of my blouse and pulled it open, the buttons scattering to the ground. Then he grabbed me by the tie around my neck and pulled out a knife. "Shut up and do as you're told, you little bitch." He held the knife near my throat. I quit screaming immediately. He stuck the knife in my cleavage and pulled, slicing my bra in two. My 34B breasts popped out into the cool air. He grabbed the cut ends of the bra and sliced the shoulder straps, then pulled it away, tossing it to the ground.

I was crying silently, too afraid of the men and their knives to scream or fight. I felt faint.

The man behind me lifted my skirt. I felt a cold blade on my right hip and a tug as he cut first that side and then the other. I was holding my legs tightly together, but he pulled my now useless panties out from the back.

Now the one in front lifted my skirt. "Hey, buddy, she's a redhead here, too." They both laughed.

Suddenly I heard someone running up behind us and felt the assailant behind me release his grip as he was pulled away. The other man spun me around and grabbed me around my naked breasts and began to back away alternately waving the knife and pointing it at me. A man in a nice-looking dark suit decked the first man with one punch and began coming toward us. He commanded sternly, "Let her go now."

The man still holding me was actually squeezing my right breast with his left hand and waving the knife with his right hand. The man in the dark suit reached us just as a knife came up toward him. My savior grabbed the man's hand and twisted it back until the knife fell clattering to the pavement. My assailant threw me into the arms of my rescuer and ran down the alley as his friend got up and followed.

The man in the suit pushed me gently away. I hadn't realized I was pressed tightly to him. He was tall and muscular looking, even in a suit. "Are you okay, miss?" he asked with concern on his face as he looked down on me with big blue eyes.

"Yes, I think so. Thank you so much." I looked up into his deep blue eyes and wished I were older. I hadn't even thought of covering myself. The man pulled my blouse and jacket back together in front, covering my breasts. He looked at me with a little smile and gave me a wink. I was blushing deeply and could not even speak. This man had saved my life.

"No time to chat, Miss." He took off down the alley after the two men.

I buttoned my jacket to hold it closed and to hide my torn blouse. I was shaking as I picked up my backpack. Some of my papers had been spilled onto the ground and I began gathering them up. As I did so, I also noticed a Zip disk. It was green instead of blue like all of mine were, but I picked it up anyway. I gathered up the remnants of my bra and panties and stuffed them in my backpack, too.

When I reached home, I was still shaking. I couldn't help but wonder who my attackers were and what they wanted. But mostly, I wondered who the man was that saved me from them. I headed to my room to change. Kevin, the doorman, noticed the hole in my stocking and the scrape on my knee. He asked me if I was OK. I thought I might cry, but said, "I just fell down on my way home, Kevin. I'm OK." Why didn't I tell him to call the police?

When I got to my room in our apartment, I tossed my backpack on the bed and looked in the mirror. My stockings were torn and dirty from where I had been thrown on the ground. There was a little bloody spot on my right knee. I had scraped it when I hit the pavement. My blouse was torn and ruined. I decided to take a shower. I sat down and removed my shoes, then my torn stockings. I lifted my right leg to inspect my knee. It was only a little scrape, but it hurt. I happened to look up into my mirror and remembered I was wearing no panties. My vaginal area was completely exposed with my leg up. I stood and dropped my skirt to the floor, then my blouse. I rubbed my right breast where the man had been squeezing me. It hurt a little.

I stayed in the shower longer than usual and just let the warm water soothe my body. I looked down at my naked body and thought of those men trying to harm me, and also about the one who had saved me. I wasn't ugly by any means. I had a 34 inch bust and my nipples stuck out a little as I soaped and caressed them. My pubic hair had been growing since I was 15 and was fine and silky and red, just like the shoulder-length hair on my head. It's a shade of red, closer to orange that is never mistaken for blonde or brown. At 5'3", I was shorter than most of the girls and nearly all of the boys in my class. I really thought my best feature, though, was my legs. They made for at least half of my height and were muscular enough to be shapely without being big. Mom always said they made me look taller than I was.

But, I wondered, why did those men grab me? They couldn't see any of these things under my school uniform. Maybe they had attacked me for money or something else. No, they wouldn't tear off my clothes for my money. They must have been rapists. I was certain they would not have attacked me if I had not been alone, but with Tracey as usual. I wanted to blame her for this.

When I finished in the shower, I wandered out to my room and dropped the towel as I sat on the bed and put on some clean underwear, wooly socks and sweats. Now I was comfortable. I opened my backpack to start on my homework. I pulled out my torn underclothes and put them with my blouse and stockings to put in the trash compactor. That's when I remembered the Zip disk. I was sure that my hero had dropped the disk and I had to figure out how to return it to him.

I fired up my Titanium Powerbook and waited while it came alive. Then I slipped the disk into the Zip drive and waited for it to appear on the desktop. When it did, I could tell that it was a PC disk, not a Mac disk, but I opened it up anyway. There was a single text document and a locked folder in the window. I tried to open the locked folder but it asked for a password. I opened the text document and saw this:

If you locate this disk, please email me for instructions on how to return it. Do not attempt to open the encrypted folder.
B.B. Wilde, Special Investigative Unit
bbw@poves.org

I decided the email address looked safe enough, although I had no idea what 'poves' stood for. My "Knight in Shining Armor" must be some kind of police agent. Maybe "Portland Office of Vice Eradication ..." I couldn't finish it. "Police Officer something?" I was sure I was on the right track, but couldn't quite make it work. I thought of those rapists and then imagined it was my knight wanting to touch and feel my body instead. "What would it feel like to have a man's hands exploring and caressing me?" I wondered as my own hand slipped into my sweatpants.

Being the cautious type, I opened Netscape and typed www.poves.org into the location line. I got a login box asking for a login name and a password and no further clues. I even went to Google and tried a search. The same web site was the only search result. It seemed very secret and mysterious. But, Mr. Wilde had saved me, so I quit Netscape and I opened my email program and typed out a message:

Dear Mr. Wilde,

Thank you so much for rescuing me today. I don't know what I would have done without you. Please let me know how to return the disk you dropped.

Let me know how I can repay you for your kindness.

Sincerely,
Sophie

I hit send and then heard my mother come in through the front door. "Sophie, I'm home. Happy birthday, sweetie."

I logged off the net and headed down the hall to the living room. Mom gave me a hug and I noticed the packages in birthday wrapping behind her. I headed for them, but she said, "Not yet, Sophie. You can open them after your birthday dinner when your father's home." I whined a little, but knew not to press. "How was your day today, Sophie? Anything exciting happen?"

I started to answer, but then stopped. I don't know why, but I didn't want to tell her about the attack. Mom's an attorney and would have called the police and made a big deal. I wasn't really hurt, so I just answered, "Oh, just the usual stuff at school. Nothing much."

We chatted while Mom got dinner ready. Dad came in an hour and a half later. He runs an Internet service provider and sometimes works very odd hours. We sat down in the dining room and Mom uncovered the dishes: rice pilaf, German sausages, and cooked whole carrots. I blushed, thinking of the boys in the hall. We chatted while we ate. Mom talked about the work she was doing at her law firm and Dad talked about his Internet business and how well the Entertainment Division was doing. I didn't say much, but kept thinking about what I had experienced that day. When dessert time came, Mom announced, "Sophie, I forgot to get a cake for your birthday. We're having banana splits instead."

After dinner, I opened my gifts. First were two packages from Dad: a graphing calculator and then a digital video camera. "Wow, those will be great for school," I exclaimed. Then there was another package. I could tell by the shape of the box that it contained clothes. I was sort of shocked when I saw what was inside: A green silk nightie with spaghetti straps and slits up the side. It had matching green silk panties. I started to blush.

Mom hugged me and said, "Sophie, dear, you're eighteen now. You don't have to wear your flowered flannel jammies anymore."

Then she handed me another clothing box. I opened it apprehensively. It was two new bras and panties. They were both very sheer material. I put my hand inside the white ones and could see it plainly. The other set was green. The panties would cover much less than my normal ones. I looked at Mom. "Oh sweetie, I just decided you were old enough to have some special things," she explained. "I mean, you've been wearing the same white cotton panties and plain bras for so long. It's time to start having something that will make you feel special for special occasions."

"Just don't wear them around those pervert boys at school," Dad added with a wink, only half joking.

I hugged them both and gathered my haul. "Goodnight," I said. They stood to kiss me goodnight. "I have some homework to do. Thanks for the wonderful birthday gifts."

As soon as I got to my room, I connected the video camera to my laptop and set it on my dresser. I found I could record directly to the computer as well as to tape. Very cool. I had to try it out.

I decided to see how I looked in my new nightie. I quickly stripped to nothing, tossing my clothes in what I thought was kind of a striptease for the camera. Then I put on the nightie and panties. The silk felt wonderful against my skin. I turned and twirled for the camera and modeled my new outfit. I made sure to turn and even bend over for the lens. If Stacey could see me, she would really be ticked the next time I called her a pervert, but I was only doing this for myself, in my own room.

Then I sat down at my computer to watch myself. As I watched, I absent-mindedly began rubbing the silk on my breasts. I didn't even realize what I was doing until I noticed my nipples were hard beneath the fabric. I reset the movie to the beginning. This time, I was very conscious of my rubbing. I tweaked my nipples a little harder and then slid my hand down to my panties between my legs as I watched myself do a sexy strip on camera. I was massaging my own vaginal lips through the silk as I saw myself getting dressed in the new nightwear. I hit the reverse button and the video began running backwards so that my nightie was coming off on screen. I did the same for real. As I slipped my panties off on the computer, I also removed them from my seat on the bed. I didn't put the sweats back on, though. Instead, I lay back on the bed and probed myself with my fingers. I was wet and slick. I slipped a finger between my vaginal lips and found my clitoris. I massaged the little nub as I lay with my eyes closed. It felt so good! I gradually stopped and redressed in my nightie. The panties were damp, but I put them on anyway. I erased the movie from the hard drive and put everything away. I drifted off to sleep and dreamed of a secret agent coming to rescue me and then taking me away with him.

Chapter 2: Mr. Wilde asks Sophie to help in an investigation.

The only birthday gift that I took to school with me was my new calculator. I dressed in my uniform and wore my regular cotton panties and bra. All Tracey would hear about were my calculator and camera.

Tracey met me at the elevator and we rode down together. "Anything exciting happen on your birthday?" she asked.

I told her about the camera and showed her the calculator. She just rolled her eyes. "Was that it? Nothing else?"