Hazing of Women’s Running Team


Author’s note: This is a short and fun niche story for those with a topless voyeur fetish. There is no sex, but there is light romance. In the entire spectrum of hazing fantasies, this is about as gentle and innocent as it gets. All characters 18+.


Leslie stood in the corner with a wine cooler in her hand and looked over the guys at the party. A lot of cute guys. All thin and wiry track athletes-which was a turn on for her- with their cut cheeks and tan faces and sharp shoulders and elbows. But she was shy and didn’t exactly know how to work the room. She watched two of her new running friends chatting eagerly with the faster male runners, upperclassmen-one she knew by name from his wins last season. Even though she was new to the school this week, she had followed the team’s social feeds since she was accepted in the spring.

“Hi,” a pleasant male voice surprised her, with a bit of slur. “Are you new to the team?”

She turned to look at a particularly thin and wiry track athlete-a handsome young devil-who had snuck up beside her. He had a goofy grin on his face to which she couldn’t help but smile in response. She put out her hand.

“Leslie. Yes, I am a frosh.” She motioned to the partygoers in front of them. “To be honest, it’s all a little overwhelming.” It wasn’t clear whether she meant this party, leaving home that week to be a freshman in college, or joining the running team.

“Brian,” he said, taking her hand, the goofy smile only increasing. “Welcome to the team. I’ve had a few drinks, so excuse my boldness,” he said, waving the margarita in his hand in a wide circle to illustrate, his unsteady motion only confirming his statement, “but you are very pretty.”

Leslie blushed and ran her hand through her long bangs. “Brian, thank you, but I think you’ve had too many tonight. Let me guess, you don’t drink regularly?”

“No ma’am. I keep it clean all season for the team.”

She laughed. “Yes, me too. But it does mean that your-what, 120 pounds?-can’t handle very much alcohol. I think your liver gave up the fight already.”

“No, I’m fine! I’m only on my third drink, or maybe fourth.” He held his fingers out to illustrate, but they didn’t cooperate in showing the number he wanted so he looked more closely at his hand and tried again. Leslie laughed. He was a lightweight.

“Brian, listen my boy, you are done for tonight. We’ve got the first workout tomorrow and you will be in bad shape if you drink any more.” Leslie looked around to see where she could find a refuge to sober him up with a few glasses of water. She put her arm around his shoulders to steady him. “Let’s go out to the patio.”

They sat a while in the warm fall evening air and talked about their lives at college, what it was like to go from high school to a college athletic team. They both were standouts in their local districts, but apprehensive of the work it might take to be a contributing part at the college level, even though the team was only NCAA division II. Like many high school athletes, they were grappling with what athletics meant to their lives and how much they wanted it to define them.

The evening ended with Leslie finding one of Brian’s roommates to guide him home. While he went to fetch their jackets from the closet, she leaned into Brian and gave him a kiss on the lips. His eyes opened wide and when he realized what was happening he focused on her face and tried to kiss her back. It wasn’t the best kiss ever, but he hit mostly lips and a tingle went down her spine. Maybe college wasn’t going to be so bad after all, she thought.

The week was as tough as they feared. It was what they called, not surprisingly, “hell week” for the incoming freshmen of both genders. Five solid days of workouts trying to keep up with the upperclassmen who had already been running for at least two years more than them, with stronger and more mature bodies. It was the week before classes started, giresun escort at least, so they had no other academic duties to contend with. The schedule was all-consuming: quick breakfast, run in the morning, stretching, lunch with the team, some light work in the weight room in the afternoon, then an evening run followed by dinner and an early bedtime. It gave Leslie and Brian both a feeling for what it would be like to be a professional athlete.

The two found only one occasion during the week when they could meet privately, one night in an alley behind the pizza joint. Neither had a dorm room to themselves, so they understood that all they could expect would be kissing and a little touching in a clandestine public place. Brian leaned against Leslie on the alley wall, traced his finger against her blonde hairline from her forehead down to her chin, and gave her a gentle kiss. She melted. His hand reached to her and gently pressed against her small breast.

Leslie’s figure, like that of all the girls on the team, was slender. She had some curves, but they were subtle. Brian’s fingers had no trouble finding those curves, though, as well as the hard point of Leslie’s little nipple that he could feel through her shirt. He played his index finger slowly back and forth over it while he kissed her, and then pinched firmly while he leaned in for a deeper kiss. She sucked in her breath as a little spasm ran up and down her whole body.

They both knew the last day of hell week was going to be hard. Before the afternoon-and final-workout session, organized by the upperclassmen, there was a lot of fuss made about it. A lot of shouting and encouraging, like, “You’ve got 90 minutes more to make it on the team, hang in there, you can get through it!” Technically, everybody had already secured a spot on the team based on their high school times, so there wasn’t any serious stress about being cut, but as a rule athletes have a very competitive personality type and every new freshman guy and girl wanted to put in their best.

They ran repeatedly up and down the hill behind the campus that featured a number of criss-crossing dirt trails. “The Hill” was simply what everybody called it, and it would have been a pretty venue for a relaxing stroll if it weren’t a place where so much pain was inflicted on these college athletes’ muscles and minds in their intense training sessions. The runners went elsewhere for their recreation in the off-season part of the school year.

“One last rep now, girls. Ready. Go!” a senior girl with a whistle and clipboard shouted, clicking her watch as the freshman girls launched up the left side trail. The boys had left an hour earlier to run their own hell week drills on the upper part of The Hill. A final hard sprint down the shallow slopes left the girls gasping, with only a few more minutes to go for their hell week. Some girls flopped down on the grass breathing hard. They hadn’t been so exhausted, maybe ever, in their training, all of them working so hard to impress their new college teammates.

“Line up, you only have five minutes left. You aren’t done yet. Now!” The senior girl with the whistle blew it loudly over the clearing to scare the freshmen into a line, where they were positioned so that with their hands on heads they just touched elbows with the girl next to them.

They went through a few coordinated stretching exercises, after which the senior blew her whistle and yelled, “Any girl wearing a shirt, take it off and put it at your feet.” The girls were standing in a line in the grass at the edge of the merging of two wide dirt trails coming down off the hill. About half of them had stripped to sports bras already, but the ones wearing shirts, after a confused look left and right, responded to the urgency of the whistle and pulled them over their heads and dropped them on the grass by their feet.

“Looking good, team, hold still now and look gümüşhane escort straight ahead,” the senior said, walking down the line and staring at each face like a sergeant in one of those Navy SEAL training movies. There were fourteen new girls to the team this year, a large incoming class, and a very attractive group on the whole. The girls had their hair pinned up, faces shining with radiant skin, eyes blazing from their exertions, and their small, fit chests were still heaving in and out from their final sprint just moments ago. “These are the bodies we have to work with for this year. You will work hard, and we will mold you, shape you into winning athletes!”

She stopped at the head of the line and looked at her watch, then glanced up The Hill. “Only one minute to go now, and you will be on the team. You’ve worked hard all week, this is your final test. When I blow the whistle, you will pull off your bras and put your hands on your heads. Elbows should touch your neighbor.”

She paused to let it sink in. There was total silence on the line. Every girl was thinking to herself something like: What the fuck? Take off my bra, to make the team? Are the other girls going to do this? We’ve worked so hard all week, should we just do this and get it over with? The clearing was empty of people, the birds were chirping, and the sun was shining. Some thought, it was a beautiful, peaceful setting and a lovely fall day, so it wouldn’t be the worst thing to go for a little topless nudity on a dare.

But regardless of the internal conversation in each girl’s head, when the senior blared on the whistle and screamed in their faces, “Bras off! Now!” each one immediately jumped into action, scrambling to pull off the sports bra and throw her hands in the air, elbows out to her neighbor. They made a beautiful line of tan and fit flesh.

After Leslie slipped off her bra and tossed it to her feet, she put her elbows up behind her head and stuck out her chest like the other girls. She had put so much effort into that last workout to keep up that it wasn’t like she didn’t care that she was topless-she was a shy girl, afterall-but she was so relieved to be done running for the day that the nudity washed over her. When you’ve pushed your mind and body that hard, other stresses fade into the background. In fact, that’s why she got into running in the first place, it put everything else in life into perspective.

Leslie was at the head of the line, so after the senior went past her to the next girl in her inspection, she looked down to her own breasts and was pleased: the familiar gentle curves of white flesh highlighted by her small, hard and dark nipples. A glance down the line showed her the neat row of girls all standing at attention at the edge of the trail. She had seen plenty of nudity in shower rooms, but nothing so curious as this scene.

From the grass where their running shoes rested, she remarked on each pair of athletic tanned calves and thighs, a colorful pair of shorts-mostly pink or light blue colors-toned and tanned muscular stomachs still pulsing in and out from the exertion of the workout-and possibly the nervousness of this hazing-then up to the curves of fourteen pairs of beautiful, small breasts, highlighted by the uniform and seemingly endless row of pert nipples on display: just one cute little bump after another, down the whole line. Some tits jiggled with the girls’ nerves, as they couldn’t hold perfectly still in that position. All of the runners were slender, with tight and firm breasts resting high on their chests. There might have been two B-cup girls in the whole line, if that.

The senior girl barked out, “Very nice girls. You’ve got one minute to hold out those little titties!”

The girls waited with their minds blank, just trying to endure this until the end, and hoping it would come soon soon. “40 seconds!” the senior shouted. Then they heard the hakkari escort sounds. One by one the girls realized what the sounds were, and eyes flew open and their hearts quickened.

“You don’t move a muscle!” the senior shouted. “30 seconds to go!”

From around the corner they came. The entire boys team, about forty of them. They were jogging single-file, not racing, and they were on course directly down from The Hill and across the clearing to run right past the row of topless girls thrusting their nipples out to the trail.

“You hold and look straight ahead!” the senior girl shouted to the freshman, some of whose faces were starting to crack with nervous tension. More than a few muttered under their breaths, but none of them moved. Nobody had the courage to break ranks, and the senior girl was right in front of them, watching intently to call out and punish any movement. Their small breasts stuck out prominently to the trail, the beautiful soft tissue of fourteen girls’ nipples on display.

The first boys met the line of girls and slowed while they looked at the topless figures. The boys’ faces went into a sort of shock, it was too much nudity to take in at once and appreciate, although they tried, scanning up and down from face to breasts again and again for each girl as they passed. Their brains worked furiously as they tried to commit to memory the shape and size and color of each girl’s nude chest. The boys in the middle and back of the line kept coming so the ones in front couldn’t slow down as they would have liked to, but got pushed past the girls in a hurry.

“10 seconds to go!” the senior girl shouted.

Leslie’s was on the far end of the line, the last part the boys ran past, and even though she was supposed to be looking straight ahead, she was searching out of the corner of her eye for Brian. Her tits were on display to all the guys like every other girls’ was, but she focused on getting through this by thinking she was showing them to Brian alone. There he was, finally, at the back of the line. He ran past and winked at her just as the senior blew the whistle. He didn’t make a secret of his gaze dropping from her face to her breasts, and he raised his eyebrows and smiled his approval as he turned to look back at her while jogging away. Leslie covered herself up and couldn’t resist a small smile at his tribute.

“Done! Good job, girls. Welcome to the team!” the senior yelled, as the girls all scrambled to put on their tops again. Their faces were as red as when they had finished the last hill workout.

Later that night, after a few beers, Leslie held her head against Brian’s shoulder at the end-of-hell-week party. She shook her head, remembering that afternoon as she would the rest of her life. “I can’t believe all you guys ran past us and saw all our tits. Oh my God, I heard about hazing in college, but I never thought I would be in one. And agree to do it.”

“What do you mean all the girls? I saw only one girl in that blur of naked bodies. A very pretty girl.” He smiled at her. “But come on, it wasn’t all bad was it? Wasn’t it was a little bit fun? Didn’t it make your heart race, seeing the whole gang of us come around the corner while you were holding your hands up, tits out, knowing that we were about to run right past you, and you couldn’t cover up?”

Leslie punched him, even though there might have been a small kernel of truth in what he said. “Yeah, your fantasy, I know. You guys will be jerking off to that for years. I hope there’s some way you guys pay us back!”

“Well, I don’t know exactly what, but there’s supposed to be this thing next weekend at the retreat. I don’t think it will be the like what you girls did today, but a couple of the guys told us to get ready to show our stuff. I think you’ll get your payback.”

“Oh, I’m going to be getting my payback all right.” She looked down at his wiry figure and ran her finger from his big runner’s chest to his narrow waist and then to the bulge on his shorts, brushing against that bulge and feeling its shape through the fabric. Then she raised her head and glanced around at the house to see if there were any bedrooms to sneak off to. “In fact, I’m pretty sure I’m going to get my payback in just a few minutes.”

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