Stripped For Florida, Birdwell

Stripped For Florida: Birdwell

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This work is intended for ADULTS ONLY. It may contain depictions of sexual activity involving minors. If you are not of a legal age in your locality to view such material or if such material does not appeal to you, do not read further, and do not save this story.
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STRIPPED FOR FLORIDA
BIRDWELL

After the DECENT laws went into place worldwide, localities were permitted to set their own community standards, look after their own interests, and in general carry on in a much more decentralized world. The result was a tightening of so-called moral codes all over the world. Even many Pacific island nations where naked little boys had played happily in the waves for generations now banned nudity entirely. There were some predictable exceptions, like Berkeley, California; Barcelona, Spain; Berlin, Germany. Parts of Russia and the Ukraine where the naturist philosophy had deep roots continued the tradition. Florida stands out for making nudity a tourism staple. This is not as obvious as might be supposed. First, it is a minor miracle that Florida remained one state. In the decentralized world of DECENT it was entirely expected that the north of Florida, steeped in southern culture, would divorce itself at last from the south of Florida, dually dominated by Yankee transplants and Hispanics. Secondly, Florida has been -- indeed, still is -- a fairly conservative place, religiously, culturally and politically. If it were not for the clever machinations of a French emigre who changed his name to Mark the Florida story may have turned out very differently. Instead Michael's father and his porn-financed empire (always a conservative industry, definitely driven by the almighty dollar!) exploited his own son as well as his own political savvy to bring nudity and money together with such magnetic force that the two are inseparable in the Florida equation. The SFF booths of the Stripped For Florida program became a staple of Florida tourism. Visiting parents paid big bucks to strip their kids naked for the quintessential Florida vacation; and the most unlikely Florida residents stripped their kids naked for entire childhoods.

But, it was the heedless life of one 14 year old that breathed life into the Stripped For Life program. The same SFL that changed the rules for the NBA, NCAA, NGA, and a slew of other alphabet soup athletic associations -- although not so much for the NFL.

Goethe Birdwell (note the southern pronunciation please: GO tee, with the accent on the first syllable) was so named for his place of conception, the Goethe (GO tee) State Forest near Dunnellon, Florida. The 13th of 19 biological siblings (born to one father and two mothers), Goethe at age 14 was gaining in height, had long, fine, blond hair and that kind of fair skin that tans up beautifully. He could turn on a dazzling smile and he had a nicely developed musculature that flowed smoothly over his boyish physique.

His family were members of the Hare Krishna sect, whose headquarters are in Alachua, Florida, just up the road from where the family lived alongside county conservation land in Gainesville. The Krishnas are known for large families and their insistence on modesty, particularly for girls. The Birdwell clan was obviously a model of the first, but not entirely on board for the second. Large family, shared rooms, and lots of sports activities led to a rather lax attitude toward covering up. When you have 19 kids, parenting is not a hands-on experience. Instead, Ma and Pa Birdwell excelled in delegating most of this responsibility to their children. Rose, in particular, ended up being one of the major caretakers for Goethe, Kite, Magnolia, Blue, and Leaf. Pepper and Sal were babies and still being hand-reared by their parents. Rose was a young woman of sweet disposition (in fact, every single one of the Birdwells were disarmingly sweet; one could not imagine a malicious thought among the lot of them, including the patriarch Birdwell, his wife, or his first wife -- now deceased), who at 17 should have had more of a life. But, caring for a range of pre-adolescent and young teen siblings was a big job. Also, there was the inescapable fact that the patriarch was losing it. He couldn't remember details from day to day; had to be coached through each step of buying groceries at the nearby Winn-Dixie; and directed at every intersection as he drove them anywhere in the handicapped transport van converted to family use. Mother was a bit more on the ball, but she often confined herself to quick observations and directives shouted back over her shoulder. Goethe blithely ignored the incapacities of his father and the directives of his mother.

He got around town by bicycle, public transport and hitched rides. He was a whiz at the tumbling and acrobatics of the Brazilian martial art Capoeira where boys habitually competed shirtless and girls wore minimal sports bras. He loved to swim, often by climbing over the fence of the public pool late at night in the company of his brothers and sisters. It was basketball where he excelled. He flowed across the court with effortless motion, switching from dribbling to passing to shooting without hurry or pause. He possessed that rare combination of aggressive personal skill and egoless team participation. In short, on the court he was gold for his coach. This winter he was playing on the star city team for his age group. Of the four teams in competition for 12 to 14 year-olds, this one team had been hand-picked to represent the city in regional and state play-offs. The coach felt he had the best chance in years to win. He had just the right combination of talented boys and he was working them hard. He was determined to take them all the way to the top!

In the midst of all these athletic comings and goings, cycling around town, clambering over fences, and meeting up with friends, Goethe was completely heedless as to the state of his clothing or its whereabouts, strewing sweaty, soiled garments down the hallway from shower to shared bedroom; leaving them draped on the wooden privacy fence outside the house; or left in the back seat of the van to rot and mildew. It was usually left to Rose to clean up after him, get the items laundered, mended, and returned to Goethe's shelf neat and folded. Often enough, however, his mother noticed the mess and she was getting completely exasperated. Even three kids not cleaning up after themselves can wreck havoc when 21 people share a dwelling.

Goethe screeched his dirt bike into the front yard, let it fall across the front pathway and darted into the house to get ready for practice. Peeling his clothes off he let them fall in sequence down the hallway toward the bathroom. He jumped into the shower, quickly soaped down, grabbed a towel and headed back down the hallway. In the room he shared with 5 of his brothers he left the wet towel in the middle of the floor, pulled on his basketball uniform, laced up his shoes and ran out of the house. He was able to run down the street, catch the city bus on the main avenue and get to practice right on time.

Two and a half hours later he repeated the exercise. He dropped his uniform in the hall, got in the shower and soaped up his body. This time he also washed his long hair and wrapped it in a towel before stepping out of the shower. Grabbing another clean towel he dried off and looped it around his waist before heading down the hall toward the bedroom. This time Rose was home, and more critically, so was his mother.

"I've had it up to here with this mess, Goethe Birdwell. If you drop one more thing in this hall I'm going to have you stripped -- and I mean it!!!"

Goethe paid no attention whatsoever, and as he turned the corner of the hallway he casually unwrapped the towel from around his waist and let it fall to the ground.

"That's it. Strip him," yelled his mother in one of her over-the-shoulder commands.

Whether it was simply a matter of taking on adult responsibilities as a matter of course, a secret wish to see her sibling get his due or some other hidden motivation we will never know. But Rose took it upon herself to get a Quick Strip. On the next foray to the supermarket she went through the usual monumental task of doing the shopping for a large family while helping her father appear to be in charge. Two younger siblings pushed shopping carts, bringing the total to three large buggies filled to the top by the time they reached the checkout. Rose patiently helped her father slide the EBT card through the reader, push the correct buttons, and count out the correct additional cash to handle the clerk. It wasn't difficult to hand the QS card to the clerk and get the tiny wax paper envelope with the Quick Strip sticker inside. If her father noticed the extra $45.00 on the bill she would tell him it was for school supplies, but he was even more out of it today than usual and the purchase slipped by completely.

At home Rose had Kite and Magnolia unpack and put away all the groceries while she purposely walked down the hall. She opened the door to the boys' room looking for Goethe. Ah, there he was, right on the top bunk. How nice that she could do this right away instead of waiting for him to get home from somewhere. He was indeed in the bunk, stripped already by the looks of it and jacking off. Looked like he was pretty close to coming, too!

"Hey! What are you doing in here?" yelled Goethe. She acted fast and doubted that her brother noticed her quickly stick the QS bandaid behind his left ear. "Can't a boy have any privacy around here?"

"It's okay, I was just checking if you were home," answered Rose sweetly. "I've got to go make dinner anyway."

"Man, you could at least knock. I've got to get to practice -- is there anything I can eat before I go?"

"Sure, why don't you finish what you were doing and come grab a bite." Rose smiled with satisfaction and headed out of the room.

Goethe felt distracted from his original mission. Giving up he jumped off the top bank in a forward flip, landed on his feet and arched carefully back into a backbend. He pulled on his basketball jersey, athletic supporter, shorts, basketball socks and shoes. Leaping up he gave the fan pull a flick and ran down the hall to the kitchen. Rose gestured toward a plate of food, which he wolfed down before heading out to the street.

The bus pulled up, the usual driver waiting for him to board. Just as he stepped up a yellow light flashed and a buzzer went off.

"You been stripped boy, you can't get on my bus like that."

"What?!!"

"You know the rules. You been stripped. Why do you think that light's going off? That's a sensor. You can't get on the bus like that. Strip it off or you need to step down right away."

"What the . . . I'm not stripped. You see me every day. I just need to get to practice."

"I may see you every day, but I don't know nothin' about you gettin' stripped or not. Now step off the bus; you keepin' all these people waiting."

"I can't be late -- what am I going to do?"

"Just strip off and get on board. If there's some confusion you can take care of it later. Either that or step down." The bus driver put the bus in gear and made a menacing sound with the engine.

"Okay, man, okay, just let me get this stuff off. I can't be late, we're having an important game."

A flustered and very naked Goethe hugged his bundled clothes under his arm and started down the aisle. The bus driver started the bus up suddenly, sending Goethe reeling down the aisle. A few of the passengers chuckled at the sight of the naked boy trying to keep his footing. In fact, the bus riders found the whole episode rather amusing and couldn't help noting that this was a very good looking naked boy.

Goethe sat in his chair looking out the window and trying to figure out what in the world was going on. Well, he'd just put his uniform back on when he got off the bus and head to practice. It was probably a broken sensor or something, but why should he have to strip naked in front of all these people just because some electronics had gone haywire?

The bus pulled up on Waldo Road. Across the field was the M.L. King Center where the indoor courts were. Before getting within good visual distance of his team mates Goethe quickly pulled his clothes back on and loped across the grass. He headed up the wide walkway to the double doors of the gymnasium and was about to dart inside when another yellow light started flashing. An alarm started sounding, much louder than the one on the bus. Immediately two of the staff from the front office stepped into the entryway.

"Oh, it's you Goethe. I didn't know you'd been stripped," remarked Miss Carter, one of the younger and perkier staff assistants. "You better undress before you come in here."

"No, its some malfunction. I haven't been stripped. I swear." protested Goethe.

"Why don't you come in the office. We can resolve the matter quite quickly," said the senior staffer, a coach named Albertson. "Miss Carter, will you turn off the alarm, please?"

Standing in the office, Goethe allowed himself to be inspected. In no time flat Coach Albertson had located the QS bandaid. "Goethe, it's right here. You haven't even taken off the bandaid. Without that I'd have to use a handheld sensor to pick up the embedded microchip, but this is as plain as day! By the way, you can take the bandaid off anytime you like. The chip is well implanted by now."

"You mean I've been stripped?" asked Goethe incredulously. For the first time it actually penetrated his consciousness that the unthinkable might have happened.

"Yes, son, you have been stripped," replied Coach solemnly. "Now, I must ask you to remove your clothes completely. You might as well leave them here as you won't be wearing them again for quite some time. You are allowed to wear shoes if you like, although they are not strictly required for practice now that you are a Stripped. I wouldn't dawdle if I were you. Your team has a big game tonight and your coach is waiting."

Naked and feeling much more vulnerable and exposed than he had on the bus, Goethe walked out of the office, across the hall and into the large gymnasium. The room had been reconfigured, turning two basketball courts into one with bleachers folded down on either side to accommodate a rowdy crowd of spectators and fans. Goethe looked around and was sure he was the only naked person in the room. This was East Gainesville and religious sensibilities, gangsta fashion, and tighter monetary priorities had all contributed to a complete indifference to Stripped for Florida. Instead the room was full of long black t-shirts, baggy pants, black do-rags, and the occasional gold or silver chain. Goethe's team was practicing at one end of the court, outfitted in the blue and white of the Gainesville Magic. The opposing team from Starke was clad in red and black and was practicing at the other end of the court. Goethe knew they were a pretty good team, even if they did hail from the rundown town that was most famous for the state's electric chair.

Goethe was roused from his observations by a heavy hand clamping down on his shoulder. "What's with the nude, boy!" growled his coach, "You need to be suited up and ready -- the game's no joke tonight!"

"I've been stripped -- I mean, somebody stripped me!"

"What do you mean, somebody stripped you? Only two people can strip you, your ma or your pa! Hell, what am I going to do with you like that? Go sit on the bench. I'll figure this out later."

Dejectedly Goethe walked over to the bench and tried to make himself disappear. Actually, very few people gave notice. It was not at all clear to anyone that this naked child was on one of the teams, and people were really revving it up over the upcoming match. The referees blew their whistles to clear the courts and both teams went into a final huddle before the match. Five team members went out onto the boards and the rest of the team sat at the opposite end of the bench, leaving Goethe alone at the other end. His coach totally ignored him.

The game got off to a quick start in favor of the Magic when Kyle made a dash up the court, passed the ball to Monsef who tossed it neatly through the basket before Starke could get a handle on what was happening. After that the red and black team seemed to get their act together and the two sides traded points evenly until just before the half. The Magic were still ahead and one minute was left on the clock when a suddenly more aggressive Starke, in a push to close the gap before the half, rushed one of the Magic's best players who sprawled awkwardly on the court. The referee's whistle was instant, but Rafik couldn't get up. The coach, two referees and the medic gathered around him, and then, hoisting him over the shoulders of two of the men they walked him to the bench. The verdict was not good. Rafik wouldn't be playing the rest of the game.

As halftime began, Goethe decided he should approach the coach and at least find out whether he should move to the stands. But coach was preoccupied with Rafik and looked to be in a very bad mood. His spirits didn't improve when play resumed and the Magic quickly fell behind. The players were getting more demoralized by the minute and when the third quarter ended they were down by 12 points. Coach Thomas came over and sat on the bench next to Goethe.

"Listen up. I'm going to put you into play. I am not at all sure about this nudity thing . . . really wanted some time to think this through. One naked kid on a team isn't a good thing for unity or discipline. You're not wearing the team colors, and I don't like the fact that your parents are so not on board about your playing that they would even consider doing this to you." Coach held up his hand when Goethe tried to respond. "But, those are considerations for another day. Right now I need you to go in and play your best. Bryan's mom had to take him to a family funeral. Rafik is injured. And frankly, a few of the other guys are so depressed they're not playing their best anymore. You've been sitting here the whole game. Do you think you can play?"

Did coach think he could play? Of course he could play!!! He forgot all about being stripped, he even forgot he was naked. Hell, let me on the court!!!

Coach grinned and gave him a swat on the behind as he ran out to play.

Play he did! His enthusiasm and . . . yes, let's be honest . . . his grace, won over his team mates and spurred them on to a near victory. They lost by one point. But something else happened on the basketball court that day that was to change the game plan for Florida. Goethe flowed across the court with his usual mix of boyish energy and balanced movement. He included his team mates when he had the ball and stood back and blocked and positioned himself when he didn't. He played so well he forgot he had no uniform on, no shoes on his feet, nothing but the body he was born with. But the spectators were not so forgetful. They saw something that they would never forget. Grace of movement, grace of motion, grace of a body freed from the fetters and unnatural contours and outlines of fabric and leather, rubber and plastic.

Melissa Evans saw a blond Olympian boy god on the court that evening and vowed she would strip her son Kyle the moment she got a chance. Yes, she'd stop at the Quickmart on the way home, pick up a Quick Strip and patch it on Kyle while he showered off the sweat and grime of the game. She wanted to see her own son move like an Olympian athlete.

Rhonda Chalmers saw a boy who would never be able to join a gang. He was beautiful in his strength and skill. She could imagine him growing up to be a youth that younger boys would admire. A man that inspired love of sport. Without the trappings of clothes he just couldn't have the right mix of attitude and street tough to be in a gang. She decided right then and there that she was going to save her own son, Monsef, from any possibility of being a ghetto gangsta, street tough, pimp, dope dealer, or whatever other fate was mixed up in sagging, hanging, dragging his cloth-draped self down the gang-ruled sidewalks of the neighborhood. She'd stop by the 24-hour Winn-Dixie on the way home and buy one of those QS chips. She'd paste it on right behind his ear before he could even protest. She was so energized at the thought that she nearly left the M.L. King Center without Monsef!

When Goethe got home he was still feeling the adrenaline high from the game, and something else, too. What was it? He felt lighter, and brisker. The Florida humidity didn't seem so oppressive. There was a jaunt in his step and he enjoyed the breeze across his chest, through his legs and across his balls. His penis bobbed and swayed as he walked. That was it. He was enjoying being a stripped and naked boy. He waltzed into his room and cartwheeled across the floor. He noticed that his clothing shelf was totally bare. His bunk had no top sheet. He shrugged. Whatever -- he was naked now and it was not a punishment, not an embarrassment. He'd played basketball in front of an entire gymnasium -- the only naked boy on the court. The only naked person in the entire place! He felt so good he hoisted himself up onto his bunk, sat with his legs wide and gave himself a few good hard pulls into erection and really got into enjoying a full-blown masturbation session. Five boys sharing a bedroom had long since gotten over that kind of shyness, I can tell you. And besides, Goethe was feeling on top of the world. At that moment Rose walked in. Geez, did she plan these intrusions?!

"Hey sis, if you don't want to watch you should ask before you come in," teased Goethe, still full of himself after his naked quarter on the court.

"It's alright. I just wanted to apologize if I got you in trouble with your coach. I didn't realize you had the big game tonight."

"You, apologize? For what?" asked Goethe in confusion.

"Well, I'm the one who put the Quick Strip on you. I've been feeling guilty. Mom sort of told me to do it -- and Pa paid for it -- but I am the one who really made it happen. Now you're stripped . . . and -- I'm sorry." Rose looked up at him with a question in her eyes.

Goethe continued to idly stroke his erection. His sister really didn't seem too worried about that. Instead she was apologizing for getting Goethe into something he was in the middle of celebrating! Should he draw it out and make her feel even worse? It could be worth something in the future if he played it right.

Goethe gave a big grin. "I can't help it Rose. I know I should just string you along and get some big favor from you because you feel so guilty. But, the truth is, I forgot I was naked. I ran onto the court in the final quarter and played the best basketball I've ever played. I feel so good in my body, so light and energetic and . . . " he stroked his penis and grinned even more, " . . . and sexy. Really I should be the one doing you favors. Thank you Rose. I don't know much about the whole Quick Strip deal. I've never really met anyone personally who has been stripped, but I'm kinda getting why parents are supposed to do it without their kid's permission. It's a wonderful gift, but I would never have let someone do it to me if they'd asked me first."

"Wow," mused Rose. "You're almost convincing me I should be stripped!"

The day after the Magic lost to Starke, three players showed up for practice naked, Goethe, Kyle and Monsef. "What's going on," growled Coach Thomas. "You all catching the same virus or something?" But he played them all in practice as if nothing were amiss.

By the end of the week three more players had been stripped. Coach Thomas decided to find out what was going on. The only phone call that yielded no clarity was to Goethe's house. His father didn't seem to know who Coach Thomas was or that Goethe was even playing ball. The girl who got on the phone afterwards would only say that she was glad Goethe was okay with being stripped. The other calls were more illuminating. Kyle's mother said she was overjoyed to see her son's body again and that she knew she'd given him the best gift she could at this time in his life. She would recommend it to any mother. Monsef's mother was eloquent in her insistence that any parent should set their son right by stripping him of the trappings of drugs, gangs and violence. "We must take back our boys from early death, crime and prison. I'm out preaching the virtues of stripping." The other calls echoed more of the same.

Coach Thomas was also hearing from some of the fans that hung around the Center. Why not strip the whole team, they suggested. Take a naked group of boys on tour as they worked their way up to state champions. After all, one had to admit they played beautiful ball, those naked boys, and everyone loved watching them. Strip them all!

That night Mr. Thomas stayed at the dinner table after he and his wife had eaten and opened his heart. "What should I do? These mothers are preaching righteousness at me about the virtues of this strip program. The fans are telling me the boys are natural-born athletes just waiting to be unleashed from the fetters of clothing. But, if I encourage the rest of the parents to strip their boys, what have I done? Most of these boys, heck, all of these boys, are the only ones in their neighborhoods to be naked--the only ones in their families, the only ones in their churches. Am I encouraging them to be ostracized? It's also bothering me that I agree that these boys are beautiful when they're nude." He looked at his wife. She was an elder in their church. She was on the PTA of the elementary school. She ran the women's committee for improving the neighborhood. She'd would know the answer.

"I say, if the Lord made it, it is good," she declared. "Why don't you take me to bed and you can show me some of it."

That's how the Magic ended up stripped and in the playoffs in Jacksonville. This was the first time the team had really attracted any major attention. Youth teams from all over the state convened in the large coliseum, with thousands of siblings, cousins, parents, aunts, uncles, coaches, staff and friends thronging the stands, organizing the games, and cheering on the players. When the stripped-naked Magic ran onto the court the crowd cheered, and then went silent with awe as they began to play. It was indescribable watching these boys move in their bodies. Olympic gods, African warriors -- the words were hackneyed and trite, but the reality was sheer magic.

It was at the state finals in Orlando that the team attracted the attention of ESPN which televised the game with a special advisory warning for those in less nude-friendly states. The Magic prevailed and by the time the team returned victorious to Gainesville the tide had turned.

"I have seen the future of basketball and it is stripped," declared the owner of the Orlando Magic. Within three months the entire Gainesville Magic youth team had been Stripped For Life. Under the constant wooing by pro scouts sent by the Orlando Magic, including lavish dinners, limousine rides, tickets to Orlando theme parks, pledges of college scholarships, and the not inconsequential cost of being Stripped For Life, one by one the parents of each boy had been convinced to extend their sons nudity forever. In truth, the cost of buying a boy's right to ever wear clothing again was not that expensive for the owner of a professional sports franchise. But the cost was inconceivable for every one of the families involved.

When the news got out that young boys were being stripped in hopes that an all-nude pro team could be assembled when they came of age, the state's youth sports scene went wild. Coaches in towns big and small began to prevail on parents to strip their sons so the teams could play naked. Scouts fanned out to discover talented young players that held the potential to play professional ball. Florida law stated that a child could be stripped for for life as long as the money was paid out and the child stripped before he or she turned 18. If there was any prospect of college teams or pro teams playing naked, there had to be a large enough pool of potential talent stripped while they were still too young to be completely sure how good they were. But colleges and team owners hired scouts by the scores, dug into their pocket books, and convinced hundreds of families to strip their kids. The public appetite for watching boys play was incredible, and everyone figured the television and ticket revenues to be made from watching virile young pro athletes play ball would go through the roof.

It wasn't long before someone figured out that basketball and naked boys weren't the only winning combination. There was girls' and women's basketball. How about women's gymnastics? How about boys or girls swimming and diving? Figure skating? Roller derbies? What about nude cheerleaders? The only real options that didn't make any sense were in sports where heavy equipment was required--football was a good example--or where nudity was completely irrelevant. If you were all closed up in a NASCAR race car, who cared if you were dressed as batman or as naked as a jay bird?

The final ironic twist was the constitutional amendment banning any law that would give adults the chance to achieve the stripped lifestyle. Professional sports and entertainment interests had invested too much time, money and hopes for future income on the premise that adult nudity would be something of a rarity. No matter how many kids they Stripped For Life their numbers were still relatively few compared to the entire population of Florida. A smaller number of kids were stripped by families that had the money and the inclination, but with the prospects that adult nudes were always going to be in the minority, the numbers were small. The legislature, always mindful of the source of their campaign dollars, enacted the super majority required to get a constitutional amendment without going to public referendum. That's the story of how Goethe Birdwell changed the course of Florida athletics. Get stripped as a kid, play naked, attract attention and if you're talented you just might get Stripped For Life. Whether that's lucky or not, I'll leave you to decide.

(The End)