u/Which-Hearing-3027

Writing this as a bit of a rant. For context, I'm currently on the swimming team at high school. So my body is quite lean and slender with pretty broad shoulders, and since swimming is an almost naked sport, I tend to lounge around the locker room/pool naked from time to time, back when I was in middle school. I've been doing this sport for so long because I loved how the cold water would rush over my body; it makes me feel alive—acutely aware of everything around me. Friends, families, and even teammates have given me slack for wanting to bear it all. You see, the thing is, public nudity has never been criminalized in the country, but it is still quite taboo. So technically, I'm within my rights to be one with nature. I'm not well-endowed or whatever, but it's so nice to basically have your skin and muscle be your clothes. The whole idea of having to buy clothes and having to cover your natural self is so perplexing to me.

I grew up clothed, but once I entered high school, I completely donated everything except for my socks and shoes. I still remember posing in front of the mirror in my room, hyping myself up before heading down to greet my parents. I loved seeing how bare I was, how the light reflected off my smooth body and rippling muscles. I can't say they loved it; they were very much advocates for gentle parenting, but this was something they were hesitant to let me do. After a heated exchange, I took my backpack and made my way to class. allowing

I decided that since it was my first time naked, I'd ease my way into it; I'd walk to school, letting myself be seen by people. It was still quite early; the sky was still pink and hazy. People were still awaking from their slumber to ready themselves for the day, except students like other early birds and me. As the spectre of a muscular, hairy man began to approach, it dawned on me that there was no turning back. His steps echoed in my ear, my heart pounding, and since there were no clothes to wick my sweat, I felt beads of it roll down my back, pooling on a little dip above my muscular ass. By the time he was close enough, it looked like I was drenched in tanning oil. To my surprise, this shirtless man greeted me politely, commending my bravery. I guess in an act of solidarity, he ditched his shorts to reveal a massive cock. He was what I always imagined a man would look like. After tossing his running shorts into a bin, he high-fived me and continued running.

This interaction gave me a pep in my step. Masculinity shouldn't be hidden behind restrictive clothing. It should be exposed to the world, alowing it to breathe and bask in the morning glory. Men shouldn't be afraid to be naked. But anyway, by the time I reached class, I had bumped into more and more students, easing me up to the permanent exposure. A part of me wanted to cover my underdeveloped penis, which looked more like an oversized clit than a penis, but it complemented my muscles too well. Now that I was naked, that every brush was made acutely aware, and I truly felt like I had become those marble statues I always wanted to look like. Of course, at some point, I'll have to let my bush grow up, but this realization gave me a high. It made me even more motivated to look even better.

"Yooooo, bro, your dick is so tiny LMAOOOOOO" shouted one of the older wrestlers, Bryce. He was a tall and extremely muscular ginger. I have an inkling that he's juiced, but I digress. I giggle at the comment and chatted him up. Yes, it felt weird to be naked in a sea of clothed folks, but soon it just felt like I was no different or less than a clothed person. In fact, I felt better than them because I had the bravery to be truly me. Class continued normally without the occasional groping and new sensations from sitting down or writing on the board naked. The world was exciting again. When I had to leave class for swim training, I simply took off my shoes and swam. Since there was no point in redressing, I wiped myself down, forgoing my shoes and just continued class as usual. A day became a month, and now I'm a senior, dick still small but hair is growing everywhere. I've contemplated wearing a chastity cage to keep my testosterone in and grow more muscular; even so, I might be the biggest person at school now, trumping even the wrestlers. I was constantly in a state of being sunkissed that made me almost irresistible to everyone.

I've also started a male nudist club and encouraged the school to ban clothes in sports; surprisingly, after years of pestering them, they've agreed. Of course, the jocks weren't too happy with me, so now, in addition to being the only full-time naked jock at school, they've forced me to be their "stress-reliever" after every match. Some folks might wince at the idea of horned-up beefy teens ramming them, but I view it as just another form of strength training. Being permanude has not only improved my physique, but forcing the school to enact this policy has increased our sporting performance exponentially. For the first time, we're, including myself, are on track to qualify for the Olympics. I'm so glad younger me made that decision because my life has improved 1000x over since deciding to be permanently nude. I hope people someday open up their eyes and join me; hell, it'd be even better if all men were forced to be naked.

Light was pouring into my room from the cracks between the curtains above my bed. The sunbeams revealed specks of dust floating in the still air of my room. Dawn had fast approached; I thought two hours of sleep would suffice, but as my dorm room grew brighter, I wished I had slept earlier. Tossing and turning in my bed, thinking that it would make up for the lack of sleep, the flat sheet that had been covering my naked torso fell off the bed, revealing my smooth, freshly shaved muscled body and my 10-inch morning wood.

There was no time for respite, however, as my roommate yanked open the curtains, causing me to groan and turn on my belly. “Come on Matteo, you can’t miss class again,” said my roommate as he spanked my ass, leaving a distinct red handprint framed perfectly between my tan lines. “OW! Fuck was that for, Azaan!” I shouted, smiling, my voice still hoarse and muffled by my pillow, before turning around. Azaan didn’t say anything; he just raised his eyebrow and smirked. I followed his eye line to my dick. His curly hair was shimmering, and the angular features of his face looked like they could cut through air in this light. He was ready to leave class, only he wore nothing but a brown leather messenger bag, oval wire-frame glasses, and a pair of preppy shorts; his lean torso completely smooth except for a well-groomed treasure trail.

“Ok fine… fine,” I said while rubbing my eye, wondering if it had betrayed me. “No, you’re not dreaming; today’s the day you’ve been waiting for!” Excitedly, I reached for my phone and checked the news. There it was in bold: “AMENDMENT 16 PASSED UNANIMOUSLY THROUGH THE SENATE; BODILY FREEDOM ACT ENFORCED NEXT YEAR”. I pinched myself thinking I was still dreaming. Amendment 16 would mean that public nudity and sex were now a constitutional right, and soon there would be a law enforcing nudity for all men. Upon reading this, I jumped out of bed, my hard cock bouncing, and hugged my roommate, who stood at 6ft2, my uncut cock rubbing against his waistband, leaving a trail of precum as we separated. We had met at the gym during our freshman year and were inseparable since. Well, he was a nudist like me too; in our building, everyone knew the two of us would be naked all the time. Some people acted weird, jealousy we figured, at first, but over time it was just the new norm, but I wanted to be in this natural state. Nothing beats the feeling of a warm breeze gently caressing your body, and since we were a subtropical country, every day was hot and humid.

“Ok bro, I’m gonna head to class; we can go to a pub tonight to celebrate,” he said before dapping me up. His hairy arm looked bigger than ever in this light. As the high of the news faded away, panic set in. I had been missing my Introduction to Anatomy for two days in a row now, more than I can afford before failing the entire class. Hastily, I grabbed my shower caddy and towel and sprinted to the showers, passing a few people rushing to class. There were 20 minutes before class. Our university still had those old-school communal showers where people showered in a circle. At this hour, the showers were packed with hormonal students with varying levels of muscularity. I moved towards the closest spout to the door and asked the guy lathering his hair if I could use it. Little did I know this was the captain of the rowing team; he turned around, towering over me, and signaled with a simple nod that I could. Every part of him made me feel tiny even though I was already one of the biggest guys in the locker room. I scooted in to let the water wash over me.

Bending over to get some soap from my caddy, I suddenly felt a pair of rough hands grab my smooth ass. Fingers inching closer to my puckering hole. My body jolted at this foreign sensation and prompted me to swat his hand. I turned around to see the captain grinning, his incredibly muscular arms crossed. “Sorry bro, your ass just looks hella soft. If you were a girl, I’d make sure you walk funny the whole week.” At this comment, several heads began looking in our direction. Feeling slightly emasculated, I quickly finished showering. My cheeks were burning up. I had 10 minutes to reach the class.

On my way back to my room, I wiped myself down, glad that I won't have to get dressed. Upon reaching my room, I changed into a pair of sneakers, grabbed my notebook and pen, and fixed my hair in the mirror. I decided not to accessorize after noting the time. Before leaving, I took a full-body selfie in the mirror, flexing both my biceps and winking. Still buzzing at the idea that I get to go to class naked today, I posted this picture on my Instagram story with the caption “Proud of my country!” and a screenshot of the headline. The hours I spent laboring in the gym to get this body now no longer had to be hidden behind restricting clothes—on display for the world to see.

As I walked out from my building, I was acutely aware of two things: how the warm breeze felt on my swinging penis and how late I was going to be. There was no time for me to revel in this feeling; it was clear I had to run. I’ve done plenty of things naked, but running wasn’t one. With every stride, my dick flopped around, slapping on my hairless thighs, getting harder the more it flopped. Running past the quad, students and tourists alike shot me perplexed looks, some going as far as to record my hasty sojourn.

Beads of sweat began to form on my temple, my sweat-slicked body glistening from the sun. Finally, I was at the entrance of my lecture hall, 15 minutes late, which to my professor was an unforgivable sin. The cool of the AC sent shivers down my spine as my sweat began to evaporate. Through the wooden door, I could hear the blabbering of this newly tenured professor, early-40s, surprisingly muscular, wearing a garishly tight outfit, about the male sexual reproductive organ. If I were a girl, he would be exactly my type, and honestly, his looks were one of the reasons I decided to take this class this semester.

I took a deep breath and entered the room. Unfortunately, the creaky door alerted the whole class to my tardiness; a murmur followed. “Matteo, nice of you to finally grace our class,” he said. “I’m sorry, Prof. It’s been a busy few days for me,” I said, rubbing the back of my head. “Busy enough that you couldn’t find time to wear clothes?” he joked, causing the whole class to erupt into stifled laughter. I’ve always been proud of my body, but his comment made me aware of how exposed I felt. “Well, since you’re already naked, I assumed you’re a huge fan of whatever Congress has been passing.” I nodded. “Good, well, class today we’ll be having a demonstration of the male prostate, and thankfully, we have a brave, and might I add handsome, volunteer,” announced my professor, the girls giggling. He motioned to me to the desk and had me stand at attention to the crowd before continuing the lecture. As he continued, he used my body as he pleased, retracting my glans, asking if anyone had questions; I stood there exposed. My body was now my identity, and I was smiling from ear to ear. The anticipation of the prostate stimulation made my dick engorge, but the size and weight of it made it seem like it was only a semi.

“Looks like Matteo is ready,” the professor said as he bent me over his desk, my ass to the crowd. With his big mitts, he spread my cheeks open; the cold breeze of the hall made my hole pucker. “The prostate can be easily stimulated with two fingers, but to ensure injury, the muscles in the anus must relax. One way to do this is through anal rimming; remember to take notes; this will be in your practical,” the professor's stubble grazing my skin. Without hesitation, he buried his face into my ass, his rough tongue lapping on my pink hole. As he continued, my moans grew louder and louder; I could hear the oohs and ahs from the crowd. In quick secession he pulled his face away and began to digitally penetrate me, making sure to explain in excruciating detail to the students what was the best way to massage the prostate. Waves of pleasure came over me as his fingers pressed harder onto my prostate. I could care less what the others think; my mind was clouded by the sheer pleasure of my professor's fingers. My knees began to weaken as he began to stroke my throbbing cock.

It wasn’t long before I felt a pressure bubble from within me, and soon, I had the strongest orgasm of my life. It took a whole two minutes for me to stop cumming. I collapsed onto the jizz covered floor, overwhelmed by what I experienced. My professor helped me get on my feet and face the crowd. As they applauded, I flexed my muscles triumphantly. Never have I felt more proud of myself, and for my country to make this possible. My professor patted my back and whispered, “Tomorrow we’ll be fucking you.” He winked. While I would consider myself straight, I knew what the law stated, and at that I left the room with the crowd of students making a beeline to the exit. As I left, jocks and nerds alike came up to me to ask questions, and some went as far as to strip.

After class ended, Azaan shot me a text: “Still wanna grab a bevvy?” The walk to the bar was almost like a victory parade; people came up to me to take photos, and I felt like all those hours in the gym paid off. I was the model specimen of what a man should look like, so there wasn’t even an inkling of embarrassment in me as I walked these busy streets. I searched the crowd to find my roommate naked too, sitting at the bar in a packed pub at 6 pm on a Friday. Not that I was surprised to see him in the nude, cock caged by his girlfriend, but I questioned where his pants went. “Oh, I saw some videos of you in class and was like fuck it. I went back to our room in between class and donated all of our clothes. The only way to live is naked baby!” What followed was a blur of too many drinks, most of which were paid for, and a drunk walk home. Surprisingly, we didn’t lose anything.

The next day, heading out to class, I noticed more and more men getting naked. Orgies were being organized on the quad by sex positive groups, sweaty guys playing football naked, and even groups of friends studying naked in the library. Later tonight, my mates and I are hosting a celebration party where we get rid of our clothes; what a time to be alive. Maybe I didn’t start a movement, but I’m glad to live in this utopia.

I’ve always looked up to my father; even before the EMN laws were passed in the Republic of Theron, he was always one to push the envelope. Since there were never really laws banning public nudity in the first place, my dad has always been naked (with the exception of shoes). One day after a naked workout session with his mates, he went back home and donated all his clothes. My grandparents had always been supportive of him; heck, they even made the house a clothes-free zone—all neighbors, friends, or family members who visited could not wear clothes. My dad had always said it was freeing to wake up in the morning and not worry about what to wear, but I suspect he also wanted to show off his body. I mean, how could he not, when he was in high school, he was already one of the most muscular and tallest students there, not to mention his uncut horse cock. My dad was the definition of a stud, roaming the hallways of his high school with nothing but a pair of shoes, his backpack, and maybe his gymnastics team’s varsity cap. That was actually how my late mother met my dad. As he grew older, he never bothered shaving besides his back and upper arms, so in graduation photos he sported a thick carpet of body hair that accentuated the curves of his massive pecs or the bumps of his abs or the striations of his leg muscles, his penis emerging from a thick pubic forest. By the time he started university, ENM laws had been fully enacted nationally, allowing him to also travel naked across the globe as a citizen of my beautiful country. I mean, other nations didn’t really get a say about this since we are the epicenter of trade and technology. When he graduated, he only wore his academic stole, and the robe had been modified to only have a hood. There’s a photo framed in his study of him proudly receiving his scroll from the dean in all his glory. Amongst a sea of black robes, his earthen skin cut through the minutiae of monochrome. Soon, he was recruited into a top investment banking firm in New York and earned the moniker of “The Naked Trader”.

I could not imagine living in a world where I was expected to wear clothes. Hell, we’ve never had any clothes at home (the coldest it gets is 17 oC). “It’s all about confidence,” that’s what my dad always told me when asked about his early days. He recalled entering the trading floor with nothing but his tastefully polished black oxfords, his black socks stretched by matching sock garters, a tie around his neck, rimless glasses, a titanium cockring, and a slicked-back hairdo. The moment he stepped, it felt like he could hear a pin drop; some even tried to catcall or shame him. It didn’t take long for his Greek god-like stature to project his confidence; by the end of the hour, it was as if this was the norm. A few years before I was born, he returned home as a partner of this firm. He truly is my idol. So when the opportunity arose for me to tag along on my dad’s work trip to the HQ in New York, I didn’t hesitate twice to say yes.
— — — — — — — — —

I’m currently in my senior year of high school, standing at 6ft2, and I’d say I’ve inherited everything from my dad, including his chiseled looks and massive schlong. These days, if I’m not studying my ass off, I’m training to qualify in the wrestling category at the Olympics. Thanks to this, I look like a skinnier version of the Farnese Hercules with chest hair covering my chest and a thin line leading down to my penis, with my pubes trimmed to accentuate my cum gutters, as dad calls them. Ever since the EMN laws were passed 20 years ago, the Olympics have completely reverted to their Greco-Roman roots. I love spending my evening in the sweltering heat, grinding and pounding my flesh against my peers. Since I was the front contender, my coach has put me on a special training regimen that has led to my 12-inch penis being stuffed in a cock cage. At first, I felt humiliated to see such a tiny nub blending with my pubes, but over time, I entered a state of zen. There is something so satisfying about looking at my muscles grow around my tiny clit. When I was first locked by my coach, there were snides from my classmates since mostly scrawny nerds wore these and soldiers as part of their uniform, but my father’s words echoed in my head and let my power through the noise; reaching home, my father, who once trained me on how to fuck with his hole, was intrigued and began treating me as his stress reliever. I knew my father was big, but my hubris fooled me into believing that I could swallow him whole; I could recognize him by the contours of his dick itself. There were days when I would arrive at school with no voice after serving my dad all night long, or other times where he would order me to get on my knees before spraying me with his load all over my face and forbid me from cleaning it off as he sent me to school. To him, I am his cherished son but also merely an object for his pleasure. It felt so freeing to be nothing but a muscle machine and a hole for others.

My father had to drop me off extra early today in preparation for his business trip. He knew today was my special day and had been saving up a load for me. I got on my knees and diligently throated the cock that made me, my cage straining and leaking. Once he was closer, he would grab my head and violently thrust my head into the base of my cock, causing my eyes to tear and strings of spit to form as my head retreated from his base. I took pleasure in inhaling his intoxicating manly musk from his bush every time he pushed my head down. His rhythm quickened before haphazardly pulling out and spraying a fat load all over my face (that was sweet tasting). “Remember not to wipe it off, champ. I’m proud of ya, good luck on the ceremony today,” he said as he dried his wet cock on my chest before lifting me and giving me a big warm hug. “Love you, Dad, thanks,” I replied. Before going back to his car, he playfully squeezed my balls, causing me to wince. “Gotta keep my future Olympian alert. Remember the flight's at 1300 hours! Don’t be late,” and with that, my dad waved me goodbye as he rode into the sunrise.