Modesty is a collection of many concepts, adequate humility, being appropriately dressed, matching the expectations of the society you live in, adhering to certain pre-conceptions about how to interact with others, those who fail to meet the societal pre-conceptions of society can be met with scorn, some societies are willing to tolerate a certain level of immodesty, citing individualism as an underlying ideological concept underpinning this tolerance, but every society has it's breaking point, there are some things you just can't do.
However, the concept is flexible, and, if you could get enough people together, you could get a broad consensus that just about anything was modest, or immodest. Such was the thinking of a certain divine entity, one that exalted the perversion and lust of the world.
And, in the small town of Lake Sod, A shift occurred, driven by this entity. The concept of modesty in the town of lake sod underwent not just a minor shift, but a total inversion, what was once pure, dirty, what was once dirty, oh so pure.
Lake Sod was once a small town with conservative sensibilities, in their minds, how could a girl walk down the street showing her ankle? that was asking to be raped, nay, demanding. As such, modesty was oft strictly enforced, Women walked around in skirts that went down to the bottom of their shoes.
Their virginity in many men's eyes was something to be conserved, belonging as much to her future husband as to her, and the very concept of sex between a wed couple not trying to birth was child was taboo, worthy of scorn and derision, your sex life was the towns business.
There are exceptions to every rule of course, if you walked along Lake Sod for long enough, you might eventually see a girl wearing a short skirt, if you walked around for longer, you might see a girl walking around in a bikini, if you setup a surveillance state and monitored the town 24/7, you might eventually get to see a girl walking around naked in broad daylight, but these were very much the exception, to be fondly remembered, rather than the rule, to be experience in the course of your day-to-day life.
Then one day, by magic as divine as they would have believed it to be malign, this perception inverted, and the town of Lake Sod went about their days, having hardly noticed that their very perception of reality had twisted beyond all recognition.
These are the stories of the individuals, living their new lives, one week from the total corruption of life as they knew it.
Sally Upton is a staunchly conservative dresser, she was raised to be strictly modest, by parents who weren't big on negotiation, but big on corporeal punishment; now that she had been in university for five years, she kept to these values all the stronger, while other girls she once called friends started to lose their sense of modesty.
Sally wore an extremely modest outfit, which even the stuffiest church would approve of, consisting of a G-string, that was so small as to be invisible from most angles. It was so tight that hardly two days would go by without her ripping her one and only piece of clothing. Her G-string was also see-through, but you could hardly see it anyways, so that wasn't much of a value-add to her purchase.
She resented her old friends who'd turned into, by Sally's extremely high standards, wanton whores. Sally had both a vibrator, and a large anal pear shoved up her ass whenever she wasn't being fucked; her friends made do with just the vibrator. While Sally's G-string covered nothing, her old friends G-strings covered most of their assholes.
One of Sally's friends had even been caught wearing a see-through bra, why didn't she just come right out and say she was a slut? Sally mused. In the past, she thought even the trashiest girl kept her chest bare, accessible to anyone who wanted to grope them. In her mind, Sally wasn't wrong in this prediction, she just failed to consider that some girls went beyond trash.
As bright as her hatred shined... she was lying to herself, she didn't actually hate her old friends, it just made her feel to better to act as though she did; at this point in her life, she just hated that they left her alone, that as she grew older, they became so distant.
They left her alone; she'd never forgive them for that. Left her to fend for herself with nary a text goodbye.
All because she wanted to stay modest, because she wanted to make sure she took a dick in every hole, at every opportunity.
They treated her as a bigot and zealot, all because she yelled at them for refusing to take a dick in their pussies and asses at the same time; She was just trying to keep them pure, keep them respectable members of society, if only they could see that, girls with tight assholes were unrespectable members of society, and she wanted to try and stop that from becoming their future, because she cared about them.
But for her noble efforts, she was isolated from her former friends, when she was being fucked from every angle, she did so with a great sense of loneliness, and isolation from anyone she could consider a friend, save for the small army of men, shoving their dicks into hole they could access.
She was starved for meaningful companionship; someone she could talk to. Honestly, at this point in her life, there was little she wouldn't do for some true connection, she would even wear a skirt (provided it was see-through, no point having friends if you literally die of shame, after all.)
Which is why she was so happy when her old friend Catherine messaged her, Sally wiped the dried semen off her phone screen, reading the message:
"Sally, I wanted to apologies for what I said, I don't agree with what you said, but I'm sorry for what I said regardless. I want to meet up, to try and rekindle our friendship, because honestly, I miss you. If you're willing to reconnect or not, please message me, it'd mean a lot to know your still okay."
Catherine's messaging style was very trashy, and profanity ridden, using such words as "please" and "willing". She hadn't even used a polite finisher for her message, most polite communication between women ended with "me hope you pussy many dicks". but Catherine seemed to have forgotten even those basic mannerisms.
Sally didn't care, she was so glad to receive a message she didn't even care about the onslaught of profanity being shoved in her face.
Sally wrote back, taking the time to make her message professional sounding, reflecting her upbringing as a pure and proper girl.
"Totes, Me fucktoy t-night, guy's I dn't know gonna pound me tight ass (haha, sarcsm me joke, bowling ball fit me ass, me prude u knoww), and t-morning, going to try n get some morey boys t fucks me slutty poosy (y know how me are). D after tomorrow (funni, get it?) we meet up at no booby club with the lady with the no see cunt (y know, from thingy before, me yell bout?), if okay w you hot slut? (I miss seeing your pussy.) Will chck message t-morrow, cause agree to orgy till then, cause me always need t bee a proper fucking ladie, as u know :), but me would totes likes to meets you cause your ass so slutty, I try t b better friend, u cunt empty, me okay w. Me hope you pussy many dicks."
To Catherine, Sally's message was as dry and clinically written as ever; She was writing like a bored office assistant, but Catherine was just happy she was willing to reconnect, and she seemed very sincere, at least.
They agreed to meet at a local reverse-strip club, Catherine was surprised she that Sally's first thought of a place to meet up was a place as slutty as a reverse strip club, Sally had screamed at a girl she found working at one once; honestly, Catherine agreed with her then, and now, come to think of it; these were dens of sin, where girls came on-stage naked and would slowly, piece by piece, put on clothes until their body was completely covered, to the cheers of a mostly male audience, some girls would even not fuck a guy, provided they tipped enough, his friends cheering as the girl passed by his dick, without so much as a blowjob, it was obscene, and vulgar beyond belief.
Some girls would come on stage, and announce that they were pregnant, and knew who the father was. How these girls showed their face in public after an announcement like that, Catherine never knew. If Catherine ever had a child, she would ensure there were at least 70 probable fathers, and at least 200 improbable options. Though she remarked to herself that Sally, being the prude that she was, would probably call her a slut for that number being only three digits, although Sally wouldn't shame herself by implying she could count, so maybe not.