There were three surprising side-effects of all that more-or-less-hairy male skin on display.
One was that smooth female skin got--if this makes any sense--simultaneously sexier and less slutty for the str8 boiz. I put this down partly to natural reaction, and partly to the basically benign nature of my grandmother's magic.
So just about every girl on a sports team and all the female coaches started coming in as shirtless as us boys, with a lot of sports bras and the occasional halter top or tube top. Yet very few of the guys made rude remarks, and usually those that did got put down by some other guy before the girl even had to say anything. But you could tell, nearly all the guys were more ... appreciative than ever. And when I say nearly all, I mean practically all of those that weren't, like me, busy appreciating the other guys.
Of course that led to even more girls stripping down. I wouldn't say that girls' blouses and shirts became as rare as those on the boys, particularly since more of them were still working on first getting in the kind shape they wanted to be in, but after several weeks the gender gap was definitely closing.
And then Miss Mendoza, the girls' basketball coach, ran into the principal in the hall. And he opened his mouth and said, "I wonder if so many of your girls going around with so much bare skin is a good idea." Miss Mendoza didn't say a word; she just looked from his tanned, hairy 8-pack up to his tanned, hairy chest and then to his blushing, hairy face. (The principal has a really nice, neat beard.) "On the other hand," he went on, "I could be a Neanderthal idiot who isn't actually too dumb to learn. My apologies to you and your team."
So he kept on going down the hall while the Divine Miss M. and I appreciated his tight little butt in his tight low-rise pants.
And that brings up the other two surprising side-effects.
First, real old-fashioned hairiness. When everybody suddenly ditched his top, there was no time to shave. And when everybody saw how good a hairy body could look, those that looked like Hugh Jackman decided they were entitled, especially among the faculty. Not that there weren't plenty of smooth gleaming torsos to admire, too.
Second, although there were still a lot of guys sagging their pants--maybe even more than when they were wearing shirts that hid their waistlines--very few of the faculty were young enough to sag without looking and feeling silly, and even fewer of them actually did sag.
Instead, especially among the increasing number with 6-packs, and even 8-packs, they followed the example of Mr. LaRue, the biology teacher, and went to low-rise pants. And a lot of the boys followed suit. So the number of nice bulges increased.
Of course Mr. LaRue then went to ultra-low-rise jeans. You would occasionally hear him explaining that while at school he would never go shorter than an 8" rise in front, he really preferred 5" or less for "the clubs," and he had a friend who liked 3-and-a-half-inches "but of course he does a full body shave." From which I concluded that Mr. LaRue liked showing off his bush but wasn't dumb enough to do it at school.
Well, except in the locker room. But that's a different story.
More teachers than I would have thought, and a lot more boys, eventually did the ultra-low-rise thing. I didn't mind a bit.
But when Grandmama and I bought my new totally shirtless wardrobe, we got only sagging and low-rise. Ultra-low just doesn't look good on anybody as massive as I am, not unless it's posing trunks. Or swim trunks; I did replace my outgrown Speedos!
Our next project is getting thongs onto all the thong-worthy bodies on the town beach, and then in the town parks.