WARNING! All of my writing is intended for adults over the age of 18 ONLY. Stories may contain strong or even extreme sexual content. All people and events depicted are fictional and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Actions, situations, and responses are fictional ONLY and should not be attempted in real life.
If you are under the age or 18 or do not understand the difference between fantasy and reality or if you reside in any state, province, nation, or tribal territory that prohibits the reading of acts depicted in these stories, please stop reading immediately and move to somewhere that exists in the twenty-first century.
Archiving and reposting of this story is permitted, but only if acknowledgment of copyright and statement of limitation of use is included with the article. This story is copyright (c) 2015 by The Technician.
Individual readers may archive and/or print single copies of this story for personal, non-commercial use. Production of multiple copies of this story on paper, disk, or other fixed format is expressly forbidden.
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
* * * * * * * * * * * *
OK, it was a stupid bet, I know it was a stupid bet, but we were at a Super Bowl party and I had a little too much to drink and everyone was egging me on all the way.
My name is Shelly and I work in a data processing center in Minneapolis with 22 other women. The office Super Bowl party is a tradition that goes back to before I started working there 6 years ago. Every year the entire office gets together for a “girls only” Super Bowl party. Almost all of the other women in the office are Vikings fans, but no matter who was playing, we gathered at our office manager’s home. And every year there are stupid bets made between “the girls.” Someone ends up having to come to work with orange hair or in a football jersey of the winning team or with makeup in the winning teams colors or whatever. Like I said, they are stupid bets, but this year I made what has to be the stupidest bet ever.
I am originally from Seattle and Barb is originally from Boston. We are both football fanatics. So much so, in fact, that the others in the office referred to us as Seattle Shelly and Boston Barb. So it was inevitable that we would be rooting for our hometown teams at the party and no surprise to anyone that there would be some sort of bet between us.
What was surprising was that both Barb and I came to the party in cheerleader outfits. We both had been cheerleaders in high school and both of us could still fit into our outfits. Our outfits were even the team colors. We both came dressed to proclaim our loyalty to our team… and to flaunt our stuff. After all not everyone can still look hot in their high school cheerleading outfit nine years later.
Before the game ever began we agreed on a bet. We were the same size, so the loser would have to wear the winner’s outfit and be a cheerleader for the winning team at work on Monday. Since no customers ever actually come into the data processing center, and since the office manger and the shift supervisor were both at the party with us– and both a little drunk– there wasn’t going to be any problem with that.
The first quarter just resulted a lot of taunting back and forth between Barb and me. Then they ran that puppy commercial and got us all crying. One of the women said, “We need something to cheer us up and get our minds back on the game.”
I downed my beer and suggested that maybe if Barb and I upped our bet a little, it would make the game more interesting. I suggested if New England won by more than 3 points, I would wear a New England cheerleader outfit not only Monday, but all week. If it was less than 3 points, she would wear my Seahawk outfit all week. She agreed and all the other women from the office cheered and yelled to encourage us.
The second quarter didn’t start out much better. Then LaFell caught that pass in the end zone and the Patriots were up 7-zip. Barb taunted me that I was going to lose big. Then all the women from the office started giving me a really bad time about how I was going to lose and that I would look really cute in Barb’s cheerleader outfit.
“No way!” I yelled. “I’ll even up the bet… cheerleader skirt, but no tights.”
That meant that the loser would be totally naked beneath the skirt. I know I shouldn’t have made that bet, but I did. I figured that even if I lost, it was only women in the office, and at my desk nothing really showed – though I had a feeling that whoever lost would be the one sent to get anything that was needed out of the filing cabinet, especially from the bottom drawer.
Everyone cheered and laughed and then Sara, the shift supervisor said, “Naked means totally naked, no tights, no panties, no hair. Smooth and naked as the day you were born.” Both Barb and I looked at her in amazement, but then we both said together, “Agreed.”
Five minutes later Russell Wilson made that great pass and set things up for Marshawn Lynch to score for the Hawks and it was tied. Then the Patriots scored again and made it 14-7.
I must have looked a little nervous because Barb began to tease me again and asked, ‘Do you want out of your bet?”
I was way past my normal two drink limit or I wouldn’t have said anything and besides that, at that moment the cameras zoomed in on a fan in the stands who was bare-chested and painted in Seahawk colors. He was probably more drunk that I was. Looking at the screen, I responded, “No way. Let’s take it up another notch. The loser has to paint their chest in the winning colors, just like that idiot on TV.”
Barb laughed and said, “You all heard her. She wants to paint her tits in Patriot red, white and blue.” I responded, “No, you are going to be painting you whole body Blue and Green.”
Barb said to everyone, “You girls are our witnesses. The bet is painted tits at work for a week.” Everyone laughed and someone yelled, “To painted tits,” as everyone toasted our bet.
After a few minutes it hit me what I had actually bet. If I lost I was going to be spending a week at work in nothing but a cheerleader skirt with my upper body painted red, white, and blue.
I was starting to think I had made a really big mistake but then with only five seconds left, that great coach, Pete Carroll made the risky decision to pass for a touchdown rather than kicking a field goal. Chris Matthews caught it with only a second left, and the game went into halftime tied 14-14.
All of us danced with Katy Perry during the halftime show and while we danced, we all downed a couple more drinks. After Katy floated off on her flaming star, someone said, “Let’s hear a half-time cheer for the winner.”
I yelled out, “That will be the Seahawks,” and Barb yelled just as loud, “Patriots.”
Sara said, “Let’s see you do a cheer routine for your favorite,” and both Barb and I stood up in front of the TV.
Before we could start, someone from the back of the room yelled, “Take it off!”
Someone else yelled, “One of you is going to lose your tights and tops anyway, you might as well get used to it.”
OK, I was way drunker than I should have been. I reached down and slipped off my tights and threw them to the back of the room and then pulled my sweater top over my head. I was now standing there in just my cheerleader skirt and white sports bra. When I looked over at Barb, she was kicking her leg up in a cheer. It was obvious that she also had ditched the tights.
By the time the game came back on, we had both finally realized exactly what we had done and were sitting somewhat embarrassed in front of the TV.
Seattle soon got a quick field goal and took it to 17-14. I figured that we could get at least one other touchdown and even if the Patriots scored, they would still be down by three. “Let’s put this bet over the top,” I said to Barb. If New England doesn’t win by at least 4 points, you end up totally naked at work painted Blue and Green… … and you have to buy the body paint.”
Barb replied, “I’ll take that bet and up the ante. The loser gets spanked by everyone here. One swat for each point in the point spread. And that happens today and every day next week before you start work and at the end of the day.”
All the women were yelling and cheering. I almost said, “no”, but Diane put her arms into a wing position and started clucking at me like a chicken. So, I said, “It’s a bet.”
At that point I was pretty sure I had 50-50 chance of losing, but then we got another touch down. It was 24 – 14 Seahawks, so I decided to rub it in a little. I taunted Barb, “Are you ready for your spanking? Do you have a supply of blue and green body paint? Want to go for full body painting?”
She looked very upset, but replied, “We’ll come back.”
I couldn’t resist and said, “If you are so sure, let’s take it up another notch. You’re totally naked and the spanking is with a leather belt, not with someone’s hand.”
The ladies all went “ooooooooooh” and looked at Barb. She said, “You’re on. I am going to enjoy beating your ass red, even if it is painted red, white and blue.”
A new toast was proclaimed, “To painted asses,” and everyone laughed and cheered.
I confidently imagined Barb sitting naked on a pillow at her desk trying to do her work. But then the Patriots scored twice and made it 28-24. I was starting to fear I that I might lose. Barb was teasing me something fierce and describing how she would post pictures of my naked ass on a porn site after she had it criss-crossed with welts from a belt.
Then Kearse made that miracle catch almost on the goal line with only a minute left. We were on the three yard line with a first down. There was no way we wouldn’t put it in for a touchdown.
“Looks like it is going to be me posting pictures of your ass,” I shouted at Barb.
“It ain’t over yet!” she yelled back. “You wanna up the bet?”
“Damn straight,” I snapped back. “The loser has to get naked and go down on the winner right here in front of everyone.”
That brought another round of “ooooh’s” from the other women. One of them yelled out,“I think the loser should do us all!”
At this point, there was no way the Hawks could lose. I was really looking forward to seeing Barb lap two dozen pussies and I could once again picture her sitting at her desk naked, painted blue and green. I was dreaming of the glory of next week. I could see it all. I was even contemplating bringing my spray body glitter to work with me just to add some highlights to Barb’s body paint.
31-28 would be the final score. Seahawks win by 3.
Barb looked at me and said, “Girl, you are getting in way over your head, but I accept that final bet.” That brought a huge cheer from the rest of the women from the office, and I said, “OK!”
Then that idiot Pete Carroll called for a pass play and Malcolm Butler intercepted it on the goal line. As the final whistle blew, Barb looked me in the eye and said “Strip!”
I did. Then she sat down, lifted her skirt, pointed at her cunt and said, “Lick!”
She looked out at the room and said, “Ladies, while Shelly is busy on my pussy, I think you all need to start warming up her ass. I think it’s 4 swats each. And if you were wishing for a bigger point spread, remember, it will be 4 more twice tomorrow and the next day and the next, all week.
As I took off the last of my cheerleader outfit, I was suddenly very sober. I crawled over to where Barb was sitting and put my face between her legs. As I started to lick, I heard a loud smack and felt the fire of a doubled up belt on my ass. It was going to be a very, very long week.
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
END OF STORY
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =