This story is fiction. Actually, the setting of an artificial world in Space and the year being 2109 should have been enough to clue you in about that.
I don't care how old are. I don't care how young you are. However, the law does care, so if you are too young, go away (or at least try not to get caught).
If this story is against the law where you live, then like the young folk, go away. Or at least...
Anzu James: Naked in Orbit, Part 03 (Monday, School)
by Coach Michaels
(nosex, hum)
* * * * * * * * * *
I expected my first official day in the Program to be
interesting, scary, and weird. It was all of that and more. I�m
going to tell you all about it, and about how some people can be wonderful, and
others are demons from the foulest pit of Hell.
My alarm went off at seven. I had it set to an oldies
station, since I was trying to think about what it was like to live way back in
your day. So I awoke to some band called the Bare Naked Ladies.
Appropriate, I thought. I took a shower, dried off, and wondered if I
should shave my thatch. It was trimmed already (bikini, remember?), and I
decided to just freshen the trim. I grabbed the first thing out of the
closet and got dressed. After all, I was just going to take it off
anyway.
When I got downstairs, my pancakes were waiting for
me. Dad usually made them after eating his own breakfast. Sometimes
I�d see him just before he left. Today he was already gone, and as I glanced
at the clock, I realized that, in spite of dressing so fast, I was running a
little behind. It was the shower. I�d let my mind wander to what
was going to happen today after I got to school, and spent too much time
deciding to trim instead of shave.
I ate in a hurry and left, riding my bike like I always do
on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Today of all days I didn�t dare be
late. I didn�t want anybody thinking that I was trying to get out of
anything. I rode off in fine form, my slacks feeling a little
tight. Well, I wouldn�t have to worry about that for long. I waved
to a few other people as we rode along. I guess I should mention that we
only use cars for emergencies, and those are electric. The whole
circumference here is little more than six Km, so it takes little time to get
from one place to another.
It was a bright day, and there was no rain scheduled.
Yes, we control our weather here. That would be almost impossible on a
full-sized planet like Earth, but it�s easy enough here. An I2 is big
enough to generate some of its own weather, but small enough to keep it under
control. The weather in the I3�s is harder to control, and letting it be
a bit unpredictable is considered part of the charm of living there. They
can have it, I thought.
I glanced up, and saw a couple of fliers, almost at the
axis. Remember how I mentioned that the higher you climb, the less you
weigh? Well, when it gets down to sixteen percent or so, you can strap on
wings and fly by flapping. I fly sometimes, but I�m more of a swimmer.
I got to Principle Takahashi�s office just in time to see
Neil Collins leaving. He was naked and already getting hard. So he
was the one from his home room. I�d had him in General Arts last
year. Several people were already assembled to see who this week�s
Program kids were. One girl whistled at Collins as I walked in.
�Good morning, Anzu,� the principle greeted me, �How are you
dealing with the idea of being in the Program?�
�Scared to death,� I answered, taking off my shoes.
�Where are my clothes kept until I need them again?�
He and two other faculty members watched as I started to
unbutton my blouse. The principle was smiling slightly as he answered my
question. �They are sent back to your home, and you can select any outfit
you like Monday, as long as it fits within what�s left of our dress code.�
�Well,� I said as I dropped my blouse into a basket marked
CLOTHING: ANZU JAMES, �I won�t have to worry about that for a while.�
He had a couple of questions for me. �Did you read the
pamphlet?�
�Yes.�
�You understand that this isn�t just for school, but
everywhere, unless your parents decide you can dress at home?�
�Yes sir. I�m staying naked at home, at school, and
anywhere else I go, except for an hour Thursday, when I�ve already committed to
be in the vacuum.�
�When was this commitment made?�
�Two weeks ago. It�s for Space Manufacturing
Applications. Mr. Glazer can confirm it.�
By this time my slacks were off. I was blushing again;
they couldn�t see it but I could feel it. I started to tell myself that
standing there in bra and panties wasn�t any worse than my new bikini, but then
thought, what�s the point of that? I�m going to take it off anyway.
I reached for the clasp on my bra, and felt my knees get
weak.
�Mr. Takahashi,� I said, �I need to take a couple of deep
breaths first.�
�That�s OK,� he told me, �as long as you don�t try to
stall.�
I took a long, slow breath. I remembered what I�d
decided last night: that the Program was a good thing and that I needed to
support it. I took another breath, and as I exhaled I whispered something
so quietly that I knew they couldn�t hear it: �You look like an angel.�
�I�m ready,� I said, my voice firm, and I reached behind me
and undid my bra. I took it right off, and didn�t turn my back or try to
cover. I dropped it in the basket and went right for the panties. A
part of my mind was screaming �NO! You can�t do this!!� But I
did. Panties in the basket, hands to my side.
�Very nice,� Mr. Takahashi commented. �Now please turn
once around slowly.�
That caught me off guard. I didn�t expect to have to
display until at least first hour. But I did it. I even held my
arms out to the side a bit.
�Thank you, Anzu,� the principle told me, �Here�s your
towel. Remember, this is to sit on, not to cover with.�
�I understand,� I told him as I took the towel. Didn�t
he hear me say �yes� when asked if I�d read the pamphlet? The only thing
I wasn�t sure about was how to carry it. Slung over my shoulder would
maybe cover too much. Held in my hand might drag the ground. I
tried to remember how I�d seen other Program kids carry their towels, and
realized that I�d always been so busy looking at the naked bodies that I hadn�t
really noticed the towels. After a little thought, I folded it double,
and then held it in the middle of that, so that it hung down quartered.
It wasn�t a very big towel, and neither covered nor threatened to drag the
floor.
�Do your best to enjoy this Program week,� he said, and opened
the door for me.
I turned around to leave, and yelped. There were at
least a dozen guys standing there waiting for me. I nearly dropped the
towel as I hunched over and my arms crossed over my bust.
�Hey, it�s Anzu!� I heard a voice shout.
�Anzu James, the midfielder,� another cried.
�Nice shape, Anzu,� came from somebody I didn�t remember
ever seeing before.
There was some more of that, but I remembered the rules and
stood up, uncovering. I twirled for them once, and headed for
Homeroom. Botilda was already there. Wow, is she pretty. Just
a little shorter than me, and a touch more slender. She has these HUGE
eyes and silky black hair almost to her waist. Cute little nose, rich
lips, delicate features. Full-blooded Chinese with a name like �Botilda,�
which is Norse. But hey, if an Afrin like me can have a Japanese name,
then an Orin like her can have a Norse name. As soon as she saw me she
started in.
�Oh my God Anzu I can�t believe this it must be awful for
you I know I�d just die what are you gonna do about spoccer can you get out of
it somehow and veegeewushu oh my God the weekend we don�t have to go to�
�Breathe, Botilda, breathe!� I interrupted her. She
just stood there panting.
�OK,� I started, �No, I can�t get out of anything. I
have to do all the normal things; I can only wear protective gear when it�s
needed, and you know spoccer doesn�t have much in the way of protective gear
anyway. And besides, the Program is something I want to support.
And yes, we should still go to the con.�
�You WANT to do this!?!� Poor Botilda seemed more
freaked out by this than I was, and I felt sorry for her when it was her
turn. And odds are it will be, eventually.
�No, �Tilda, I don�t want to,� I assured her. �I keep
having to tell my hands to behave. They want to cover me up. I
catch myself hunching over, trying to hide. I�� I leaned forward to
whisper, �I dread the first time some boy asks me to spread my legs so he can
get a better look.� Indeed, I started trembling from just whispering it.
She started to hug me, but then backed off, knowing it would
only be more embarrassing. She did stay close enough to whisper.
�Stand strong, F.L. All your parts are pretty; you
don�t have anything to be ashamed of. Embarrassed, but not ashamed.
I should know.�
You remember when I said that it would be too weird if my
mom called me Feminine Love? Well Botilda had called me that last year,
and it was too weird coming from her, too. So she started calling me
Feminine Love every chance she got, just to tease me with it. When I got
used to that, it wasn�t fun anymore, but she did still call me F.L. sometimes,
and I didn�t mind.
Oh, what about �I should know?� We had veegeewushu
together; we�d changed together a lot. Also, we had sleepovers, and wouldn�t
bother being shy around each other when we tried on clothes. About the
time the whole Feminine Love thing started was when we started
experimenting. Both of us virgins, we decided it was reasonable to
practice on each other until we started with boys. I�m not really gay, or
even bi, and I don�t think she is, but, well� We�re sort of �lesbians of
convenience.�
We had to take our seats then, and Ms. Dunlavy called me to
the front of the class. I was expecting this. The pamphlet said
that teachers could make use of Program kids in class, and almost every week,
Ms. Dunlavy had. I took the roll, as the others had. I was given a
seat at the front of the class, where I could be visible to everybody.
And, of course, Ms. Dunlavy asked that most embarrassing of questions.
�Do you need relief, Anzu?�
�No thanks,� I replied. �I�m more freaked out than
turned on.�
Oh, wait. You guys wouldn�t know about relief.
When the Program first started, it was discovered that some naked boys would be
sexually aroused all day. This was pretty obvious, the boys being naked
and all. Without a chance for orgasm, they would experience
vasocongestion, or what is commonly known as blue balls. The best cure
for blue balls of course is orgasm, so boys were given a chance to have
one. Specifically, they could ask for �relief,� which is permission to
masturbate. However, it had to be done in front of the class. If he
needed relief but didn�t want to do it himself, he could ask for
volunteers. If nobody volunteered, he did it himself or did
without. Finally, somebody noticed that girls get vasocongestion too, so
now both sexes are asked, at the beginning of each class, �Do you need relief?�
I was determined that I would let my ovaries explode before
I would jill myself in class, or ask somebody else to do it. Being naked
was bad enough.
Homeroom only lasts half an hour, and there isn�t any real
�school work� involved. Mostly we just visit. This is the only time
where �talking in class� in encouraged, in hopes of creating a feeling of
community. It seems to work. If any of us had special instructions
from parents, teachers, or Principle Takahashi, this is where we�d get
them. I had to read a notice that told me all the things that had already
been covered in mail, in the pamphlet, and in the principle�s office.
God, people; I�ve taken off my clothes, not my brain. Still, it
distracted me from all the eyes on me, a little. It was still the longest
thirty minutes of my life� so far.
The bell went off and we spilled into the hall. Those
who had classes on the other end of the building, like
�Hey Anzu,� he called as soon as we were in the hall, �would
you jump up and down?�
Was that the best he could do? Well, I couldn�t deny
that it was reasonable, so I jumped several times. My boobies
bounced. Big deal.
�Nice,� commented Mike, �but can you shimmy them like
Desdemona does in all her videos?�
Yes, I could do that. I�d been planning to at the next
dance anyway. Of course, I wasn�t going to be naked�
It was embarrassing, of course. I never let anybody
see my tits, except the girls I changed with, and here I was, not just letting
boys look, but bouncing them around. But that�s the Program, and even
though I could feel myself blushing again, it wasn�t as bad as I thought it
might be.
�That�s nice,� Bret smiled, �but I wonder if I could get a
look between your legs?�
My face fell, and I hate that it did, because I didn�t want
to give Bret the satisfaction. I felt the blush deepen, and my heart
began to beat like I�d jogged the circumference. I knew it was going to
happen sooner or later. Boys like pussy, and I wouldn�t expect them to
forego a chance to see mine. His smirk made me want to smack him, but
instead I sat with my back to the wall and bent both knees, spreading
wide. Several guys and a few girls very pointedly stared, and Bret
actually got down on the floor to put his head between my knees. I could
feel his breath on my lips. He started making sniffing noises.
�Nice,� he said, �Do I smell apricots? What brand of
soap do you use?�
I forced a smile. Sure, I wanted to grab his head and
bang it on the floor (tile over concrete, woohoo!), but I didn�t. I was
very careful with my voice.
�It�s Skyways Soap All-Naturals, apricot scent,� I
chirped. �You know what they say: �Skyways Soap, As Pure As the Sky
Itself!� The All-Naturals collection seemed right for Anzu Au-Natural.�
He stood back up, and so did I. He looked almost
disappointed. He�d wanted me to cry, to beg, to refuse. I
felt� I�d never been this embarrassed in my life. Embarrassed, but
not humiliated. It�s hard to explain. Bret had created a game and
insisted I play. The Program set the rules and he set the terms of
victory. But I�d won. I didn�t feel helpless and humiliated, but
downright victorious.
The warning bell rang, and I was off to English III, with Mr. Scott of �why don�t you write a journal� fame. I got a
few Reasonable Requests, and I accepted those that didn�t threaten to make me
late for class. More hopping and Desdemona shimmy. I didn�t wait to
be called to the front of the class; the chair was already there. I
lay down my towel, sat on it, and faced the class.
�Good morning, class,� Mr. Scott started. �Anzu, do
you need relief?�
�Relief from having my term paper subject chosen for me,� I
felt like saying, but didn�t. I just smiled and said, �No thanks.
I�m fine.�
Truth was, I did feel kind of turned on. All that
attention does get to a girl, and you can�t walk around school naked, with
everybody else clothed and staring at you, and not think about sex. But
my balls, if I�d had any, weren�t in any danger of turning blue. It was
just a little arousal, no more than when I was tutoring Steve.
The class went pretty normal. There was stuff about
burying leads, about how to deal with non-English words in English papers, and
about writing papers intended to be translated to another language. I was
on display the whole time, but Mr. Scott didn�t �make use� of me.
When the class ended, I decided to hang behind. I
really needed to deal with this term paper issue. As the other students
shuffled out, I just stood next to Mr. Scott�s desk.
�Help you with something, Anzu?� he asked, �Or do you just
want to make sure I get a good look?�
Cute, but I wasn�t in a mood to kid around. �It�s this
whole journal-as-term-paper thing. I�d already picked a subject.
Everybody else gets to pick their own subjects. Why is mine chosen for
me?�
He looked a bit puzzled. �I could have sworn that the
mail I sent said that you *could* use your journal as your term paper, not that
you *had* to.�
I blinked at him.
�I am insisting that you write the journal,� he continued,
�like I do with all Program participants. But whether or not you use it
as your term paper is entirely up to you.�
�You know,� I told him, �I think your mail did say �you can
use,� not �you must use.� Thanks. This was really bugging me.�
He smiled. �If you don�t want to use your journal for your
term paper, you can turn it in as extra-credit work.�
�That�s cool,� I said, �I have no problem with that at all.�
Mr. Scott might also want to stick �if you wish� in there
next time, just to avoid confusion. But I was pretty happy as I stepped
out into the hall�
�and into the gauntlet. Interesting thing was, I
wasn�t the immediate center of attention. Jeness was there, and she was
naked. I should point out that Jeness and I hate each other�s guts.
It started last year, over a boy who didn�t actually want either one of
us. I was over it. Jeness wasn�t. She still thinks that if it
hadn�t been for me� No, I don�t think it�s even about the boy
anymore. I think she just hates me because she hates me.
I hate her because she�s always trying to make my life
hell. She�s made me late to class a few times, and she�s tricked me into
looking like an idiot a few times. Sometimes her tricks fail, and she
ends up looking stupid instead of me. Yes, I retaliate, but it�s always
on the spot. I don�t sit at home plotting stuff. She does. I
think I do pretty well for myself, considering this. I guess we�re pretty
even in this feud.
�Jeness,� I heard a boy call, �could you show us all three
places a cock could fit?�
�Sure thing,� she laughed, and turning her back to the boy,
she planted her feet wide and bent over until she was looking at him
upside-down. �Here�s one,� she said, pointing to her mouth, �here�s
another,� she slid her finger along her pussy, �and of course here,� and she
actually tapped her ass hole. �A nice, juicy, meaty cock could slide into
any of these� Anzu!�
I turned to leave, but the way was blocked by all the guys
looking at Jeness. The girl had no modesty. Lucky her. I, on
the other hand, had far too much. Too much for a Program kid.
�Anzu, dear,� she purred, �why don�t you show all these nice
boys your three holes?�
There was a lot of agreement with that idea. I knew it
was something that would be considered a Reasonable Request, and besides, I
couldn�t let Jeness be braver than I was. I tried not to shake as I
walked to stand next to her. Planting my feet wide, I bent over as she
had done. The butterflies that had been in my stomach all day transformed
into June bugs, and I bit my lower lip, afraid that I might sniffle. I
knew they could see my pussy, at least as well as Bret had. They could
see my ass hole too, and somehow that was worse.
�That�s nice, Anzu,� Jeness laughed, �Could you point the
openings out to us, like I did?�
Bitch!
I lifted one hand, and then had to put it back on the floor
to steady myself. My sense of balance was suddenly screwed. I was
blushing so hard that I could feel it all the way to my tits, which I suddenly
realized were still visible. This bothered me for some reason. I
took a deep breath, and lifted my right hand to point at my mouth.
�Here� here�s one,� I started, pointing to my face. I
lifted my hand further. It seemed to be made of lead, and it kept
drifting to the side, and that wasn�t Coriolis. �H� here�s an� another,�
I tried not to sob as I touched my pussy as briefly as possible. �And�
and here�s�� I stabbed at my anus with my index finger, almost penetrating
myself. �And here�s the third!�
I stood back up to see Jeness grinning at me, her eyes
sparkling like a child on Christmas morning.
�Anzu, my dear friend, do you think you could��
But I never found out what else she had planned, because the
warning bell rang, and I had my excuse to get out of there. How can I
hold my own with a girl who just doesn�t *care* about being seen naked? I
racked my brain as I walked into Music, and could only think of one thing.
Jeness has a strong aversion to anything lesbian. I
don�t mean that she wants to discriminate in hiring or something like that.
By your day this sort of thing was quickly being dealt with. Wasn�t
it? I mean it just grossed her out. I remembered her talking about
seeing two girls kissing after band practice, and how it made her sick to her
stomach. Perhaps the next time she asked me to display myself, I could
wink at her and invite her to take an extra close look herself. Maybe
that would make tormenting me less fun.
Music was rather uneventful. Ms. Miller asked if I
needed relief, and I said no. She had me demonstrate several drum strokes
in front of the class, and had me play one of the rhythms I�d learned last
week. The rest of the class was exactly like it always is, except that I
was in front of the class instead of second row from the back. Even when
class let out, and I had to go back into the hall, things weren�t that
bad. I mean, the shimmying and hopping and turning around were all
terribly embarrassing, but nothing like what Jeness or even Bret had done to
me. It wasn�t until the warning bell rang and I was walking to Biology
that my heart skipped a beat.
Biology. Mr. Carter. Oh God, I had to face the
Warlord while in the Program!
OK, a little background on Mr. Carter, and on why we called
him the Warlord, and on why I was now terrified. Mr. Carter�s first name
is John, and he was born on Mars. So he�s �John Carter from Mars� or, if
you like, �John Carter OF Mars.� Not a big deal, in itself. Plenty
of people have been born on Mars. Nearly a hundred thousand people live
on that planet, and several times that many in orbit about it. However�
Just two years ago, a movie opened which was based on a
series of books written in the very early Twentieth Century. This movie
was called A Princess of Mars and the hero was a swashbuckling Earthman
named John Carter. I can�t believe it took from 1911 to 2106 to make this
book into a movie, but it did. The movie has had two sequels so far, and
in the most recent one, John Carter gains the title Warlord of Mars. So
naturally we all started calling Mr. Carter �John Carter of Mars� or �the
Warlord.� Now the John Carter in the movie is athletic, handsome,
romantic and oh so very noble (most of the girls at O�Neill had a crush on the
actor, or the character, or both). Our John Carter is none of that.
This of course only made it all the funnier to call him the Warlord.
The reason the Warlord scared me was that he seemed to
delight in making use of Program kids. We�d had two so far this
year. In the first month of school, a girl had been required to stand in
front of the class and bend her knee, swivel her hips, flex her biceps, and
turn slowly around. Then she had to do it again behind an AR
screen. This screen is transparent, but it can superimpose images over
the things seen through it. So as she bent and swiveled and flexed and
turned, we saw her in all her naked glory, but we also saw a human skeleton
match every move. Then the Warlord had her do it again, this time showing
the muscles, and again for the nervous system. She was asked a second
time if she needed relief, with the screen going. She was wise enough to
decline.
Last month we had a boy. He was not only required to
stand behind the screen, but had to explain, in detail, exactly how erection
and ejaculation worked. HE had to explain it, not Mr. Carter. The
screen didn�t allow him even the privacy of his bare skin, but showed the
rushing blood and surging seminal fluid as if we all had X-ray vision.
The boy didn�t cum in class, but the screen showed us contracting muscles and
spurting ejaculatory fluid anyway. I started trembling again as I
wondered what the Warlord of Mars had in store for me.
I didn�t feel any better as I walked into class.
Instead of the chair at the front of class, there was a medical exam table,
stirrups already deployed. The Warlord immediately took me by the hand.
�Just climb up here, Anzu,� he ordered. �Very
good. Now lie down. OK, now please give me your left foot��
I was trembling and felt dizzy. I just dumbly did as
he asked, unable to speak. In no time I was in the stirrups, and he was
spreading my legs as wide as they�ve ever been. My crotch was pointed
directly at the other students, and I knew they were all staring. I would
have been.
�Anzu,� the teacher asked, oh-so-politely, �Do you need
relief? If so, go ahead and do it right there, or you could ask for
volunteers.�
I opened my mouth, but no sound came out.
�Anzu? Anzu, do you need relief?�
�N� naa� naaa�� I tried to croak out, but couldn�t. I
drew a ragged breath and tried again. �N� no. No than�� My
voice broke again.
�Very well,� he continued, as if nothing were wrong, �In
that case, we�ll get started with our examination of the female reproductive
system and its evolution through reptiles and into birds, monotream mammals,
marsupial mammals, and finally placental mammals such as ourselves.�
Not only was my face burning, but I was starting to
sweat. I didn�t feel any better when the Warlord put that damned AR
screen in front of me.
�Here you go,� he added, setting a smaller screen over
me. �This way you don�t have to miss anything.�
The small screen lit up, and there I was, in all of my
naked, open-crotched glory. Even my little lips were slightly parted, and
my ass hole was again visible, though not quite so much as when Jeness had me
display. But my pussy, oh my God, the class was getting a better look
than Bret had. I wanted to cry.
�Anzu,� Mr. Carter asked in that same calm voice, �could you
please open up a bit for us?�
�Huh�? Wha�?� It was all I could get out.
�Could you please use your fingers to spread your vaginal
lips, so we can see the details?�
DIE, JOHN CARTER OF MARS! DIE! DIE! DIE!
Somehow, I did it. I did it and got to watch it on the
little screen.
�Thank you, Anzu,� the Warlord continued, �Now, class, here
we have the urethra.�
I saw it light up and start to pulse with red light.
�And here is the vaginal cavity, also called the birth
canal.�
My urethra stopped pulsing, but now my pussy hole was red
and glowing. God, when would this stop?
�And finally, we have the anus.�
No, WE do not have the anus. *I* have the anus, and
right now it�s blinking bright red at sixteen of my classmates that I�m going
to have to see every day for the rest of the year!
�Now,� Mr. Carter continued, as if all were right in the
Solar System, �each of these openings has its proper function. The
urethra of course expels urine, the anus expels solid waste, and the vaginal
cavity of course lets the penis in and the baby out.�
I stared at that small screen, half expecting each of the
functions to be illustrated. Thankfully, they were not. But the
Warlord wasn�t through with me. Oh no.
�Now, if Anzu here were a reptile, a bird, or a monotreme
mammal,� he droned on, �all three of these functions would be consolidated into
a single orifice.�
I looked on in horror as all three of my holes not only lit
up, but merged into one. The computer generated crotch almost, but not
quite, obscured my own.
�In fact,� Mr. Carter added, �the word �monotreme� is
actually from Greek words meaning �one hole.� Reptiles and birds follow
the same basic pattern. Of course, if Anzu were one of these creatures,
she�d lay eggs instead of giving live birth.�
I bit my lower lip to keep from crying as, right in front of
everybody, my simulated monotreme-hole began to stretch open, wider and wider,
finally expelling an egg. The whole class laughed. I could almost
swear I *felt* that.
�Of course, being a placental mammal,� my evil biology
teacher continued, �as well as female, these functions are separated.�
The simulated monotreme crotch on the screen morphed back
into my own, properly tritreme one. I was ready to get down, but the
Warlord had one more transformation in mind for me.
�However,� he added, dashing my hopes, �if Anzu were a boy
instead of a girl, she, or rather he, would become a duotreme.�
Again I watched as my vaginal cavity and urethra merged,
though the anus stayed put this time. As the two became one, my clit
started to expand, and my vaginal lips grew and joined into a pouch. The
combined urethra/cavity became engulfed in the still-growing clit, which seemed
to be a�
Oh my God. It was a penis! My actual pussy could
just be seen through the scrotum the screen had superimposed on me, and that
cock had to be from some well-hung guy. I didn�t know if I should laugh
or cry. I didn�t want to be a dick-girl, even a simulated one. But
if I had to be, at least I had a whang-dang that was probably the envy of any
real guy in class.
John Carter of Mars continued the lecture. �Both the
vas deferens, which you will remember thanks to the participation of Fredrick,
and the urethra come together to expel seminal fluid and urine alike through
the penis.�
I bit my lip, expecting simulated urine and semen to start
spurting out of �my� cock, and sure enough they did, first urine through a limp
dick, then it stiffened and expelled cum. I watched as the simulated
genitals faded away, leaving my real ones still on glorious display.
�If some of you fellows are wondering,� he droned on, �why
girls are sometimes a bit reluctant to engage in fellatio, well, that�s one
reason: fear of getting urine in her mouth. Not the only reason, but one
of them. So you guys keep yourselves clean. I�m sure a girl like
Anzu would appreciate that.�
What the hell was that supposed to mean? I�d never
sucked a cock in my life, and I don�t know where he gets off assuming that I
have. Yes, yes; I know the rumor: that every girl past the age of eleven
is sucking down every cock she can get her lips around. Well it isn�t
true, and I would�ve thought that a man who works with teenagers every day
would know better.
The Warlord turned to me and smiled.
�Thank you for participating, Anzu. Are you sure you
don�t need relief? We could all watch the internal workings while you
masturbate.�
�No thank you,� I snarled. He had to know what he was
doing to the Program kids. He was doing it on purpose, and what? he
thought we couldn�t tell?
�In that case,� he said as cheerfully as if he were giving a
child candy, �why don�t you hop down and take your seat at the front of the
class?�
I did exactly that. I also breathed a huge sigh of
relief. While the Warlord always delighted in humiliating a Program kid
on Monday morning, he pretty much ignored them for the rest of the week.
And he did ignore me. Didn�t so much as glance at me
the whole time. Just as well. If looks could kill, there�d be a
dead Martian at this school.
Finally the class was over, and I could head for
lunch. Not everybody here at O�Neill eats at the same time. There
are three cafeterias, and each of them serves three lunches a day. I was
lucky enough to be in the group that eats right at noon. All of them
serve exactly the same food. The kitchens are automated. Think of
the robots you have in your time. They build cars and such. Well,
once they become a little bit more sophisticated, they�ll be able to make
lunch. There are about fifteen pre-cooked, frozen items, like lasagna or
strawberry pie, which can be heated up in an oven (microwave, convection, or
combination). There�s another forty some-odd fresh, dried, canned, or
frozen ingredients which can, in ten minutes or less, be combined into
literally hundreds of dishes. Of course, if you�re late to lunch and
order something that can�t be prepared in time, the computer won�t let you
order it. I�ve sent mail to the school board suggesting that if we could
order lunch during first Homeroom, then any meal that can be prepared in less
than three and a half hours would be available. So far, I haven�t
received an answer.
So I tried to hurry to lunch, not wanting to be stuck with
peanut butter and jelly. I like PB&J, but it wasn�t what I wanted
today. Of course I got Reasonable Requests to jump, shimmy, and bend
over. I did, and it wasn�t as bad as earlier. I guess after Bret,
Jeness, and the Warlord I was pretty cool with a little bouncing and butt
shots. Tomorrow, when there would be touching�
Botilda, who wasn�t expected to bounce and shimmy and
spraddle-leg, was already there. She waved me over.
�I thought you might be late getting here, so I already
narrowed down your order to the things I thought most likely.�
�Thanks,� I told her and looked at the screen to see what
she thought I wanted for lunch.
A garden salad, of course. I eat one every day,
unless�
A plate of stir-fried vegetables is something I sometimes
have instead of the raw vegetables, and Botilda had thought to include it as an
option.
A cheeseburger.
Poke (that�s poe-kay, rhymes with OK). I have this
wonderful Hawaiian dish of raw tuna tossed with diced onions and red seaweed
about once each week, and during the longer school breaks or vacations I�d make
it at home. I like the school recipe, and in fact I was the one who had
submitted it.
French-fried potatoes.
French-fried sweet potatoes.
Pumpkin soup. I glanced at Botilda when I saw that
one. I don�t eat pumpkin soup often, but when I do, you know something�s
wrong. It�s a comfort food. I could really use a comfort food
today.
�Thanks, so much,� I told her as I cued in pumpkin soup, a
garden salad, poke, and a French-fried mix of potatoes and sweet
potatoes. That should cover all the nutritional bases, and I needed that
pumpkin soup.
�So tell me,� Botilda pressed as the salad was delivered to
the table via pneumatic tube, �What�s it like?�
�It�s like being naked and everybody�s staring at you,� I
told her between bites of iceberg lettuce and carrot. �What else would it
be like?� I went back to the screen and cued some pineapple juice.
I�d forgotten.
�No, I mean, are you going to flip out and start
screaming? A girl did that first week.�
�No, �Tilda,� I chuckled as the pineapple juice thunked into
place, �I�m not going to start screaming. I sure thought I might when
Jeness��
�Oh God, I heard about that,� she broke in. �What can
you do about that? She isn�t embarrassed by anything!�
�I don�t know,� I told her, �Maybe if I flirt with her next
time, she�ll get indigestion and leave me alone.�
My fries arrived not long after that, and we chatted about
this and that. I�d almost finished the last sweet fry when the soup and
poke thunked down at almost the same time. Botilda wrinkled her nose as I
ate the raw fish, but I expected that. I finished up with the pumpkin
soup, which never tasted as good as it did today.
The bell rang and we headed off for Homeroom. Bret was
waiting for me.
�Hi Anzu,� he started right in, �Hey, I was wondering��
�Lay off,� Botilda snarled, �she�s had enough.�
�Oh no no,� I assured her, �It�s quite alright.� I
turned to Bret. �So what did you have in mind? Something
Reasonable, I�m sure,� and I made sure he could hear the capital letter.
�Oh yes, very Reasonable,� he capital lettered right back at
me. �I was wondering if I could get a look at your hymen. I don�t
think I saw it before. In fact, I�ve never actually seen one.�
�Oh I�m SO sorry, but I don�t have one.�
He blinked at that. �I� I thought you were a virgin.�
�Oh I am,� I made sure to smile. �But you see, about a
year and a half ago, Botilda and I were practicing new veegeewushu moves, and I
took a hard kick right in the crotch.�
I saw several girls and a couple of guys wince at
that. Good.
Bret wasn�t willing to back off quite yet. �What, were
you training in the nude?�
�Nnnoooo, that would be tomorrow. Why don�t you come
by and watch?� I winked, and thanked my dark skin that he couldn�t tell I
was blushing.
�It was a really, really hard kick,� Botilda added, tapping
her foot on the floor several times. �Actually tore the crotch of her
uniform.�
A few girls and boys were now actually covering their
fully-clothed groins with their hands.
�You know,� I added, as casual as could be, �I never
expected my first penetration to be my best friend�s toenail, but there you
go.� I turned to look Botilda in the eye. �You ARE keeping them
trimmed after that, aren�t you?�
�Oh, absoLUTEly,� she cooed, �a woman should only bleed from
between the legs once a month.�
�OK, that�s enough,� Devon broke in, both hands clamped
between her legs. �We get the point.�
�So did Anzu!� �So did I!� Botilda and I said
together, and both laughed. It was such a surreal conversation.
But, it worked; Bret had left to find his seat.
We all took our seats then, with me at the front of the
class of course. Ms. Dunlavy came in soon after that.
�How you holding up, Anzu?� she asked.
�Better than expected,� I told her, and it was true.
�Do you need relief?�
For a split second I thought of saying yes, and picking Bret
if he volunteered (I was sure he would). Sort of the final proof that he
couldn�t get to me. But it was just too much. I couldn�t do that.
�No thanks, I�m fine,� I said instead. �I could call
the roll again, if you like.�
So I did, and then she had me make a couple of announcements
about cheerleading tryouts and this weekend�s basketball game. I was
really glad that I didn�t cheerlead or play basketball, and that our first
spoccer game wasn�t for several months. I did have practice today, and
again Wednesday� and Friday. I wasn�t exactly looking forward to that.
We were leaving class when I grabbed Botilda�s shoulder.
�What�cha want, naked girl?� she grinned at me.
�Come by after practice?� I pleaded. �And bring your
friend.�
�Oh,� she seemed startled. �Oh, um, oh. I, I
wouldn�t�ve thought you�d be in the� Oh.�
Then she grinned and very pointedly looked me over from head
to toe and back again.
�You know, I can�t help but think about it, with you like
that.� She started to reach out, then stopped. �No touching until
tomorrow, hey F.L.?�
�For everybody else,� I whispered, �You only have to wait
until about five.�
As soon as we got out in the hall, there was Bret.
�Don�t worry,� he told me, �I don�t have another Reasonable
Request. I�ve got something in mind for tomorrow, and then I�ll consider
us even.�
I heaved a sigh. �If you think it�s all that important
to get even. I told you I was sorry. Either you forgive me or you
don�t.�
�Oh, I believe it when you said you were sorry,� he
admitted. �I�m not even really mad at you anymore. But fair is
fair.�
�OK, OK,� I told him, �but remember, there are some things I
don�t have to do, so if you�re thinking about a public blowjob or something
like that, forget it.�
His eyes lit up, but then he chuckled. �Nice idea, but
no. This is something you�ll agree is Reasonable.� Capital letter
again. �You won�t like it, but I�m sure you�ll do it. And then,
relax: we�ll be even.�
Somebody hollered, �Hey you two! You gonna talk us to
death, or can I get in a Reasonable Request?�
I turned around. �You want me to jump up and down
again?�
�No,� the skinny freshman grinned, �something better.
Now, I know that we can�t touch until tomorrow, but I�d like to see you touch
yourself.�
Well, just when I thought I couldn�t be flustered anymore.
�I�ll put my hands on myself,� I told him, �but if you�re
expecting masturbation, you can forget it. That isn�t reasonable.�
�That�s fine,� he agreed. �Just do something sexy.�
What to do? I took my index finger and put it in my
mouth, sucking lightly. I then took it out, licked it, and ran it in
circles around my left nipple. Then I repeated the suck/lick/circle
thing, only this time to the right nip. The freshman adjusted his
pants. The warning bell rang.
�Show�s over for now,� I waved and headed for
Pre-Calculus. I�d made good grades in algebra, geometry, and had done OK
at statistics, but Pre-Calc was kicking my butt. Of course now my butt
was naked, and I didn�t think that would help.
Botilda walked most of the way with me. Her
Pre-Colonial Chinese History classroom was next to my Pre-Calc one. She
was running her eyes over me as much as any boy.
�How the hell do you do it?� she wanted to know. �I
mean, you teased your fucking nipples� right there! I mean, right in
front of� You�re not actually enjoy� I mean� damn!�
I had to laugh. �You just do what you have to
do. I mean, like last month when you were in that match: you had a cut on
your forehead; blood was dripping into your eye, your ankle hurt. Did you
ENJOY the rest of that match?�
�Enjoy? Hell no I didn�t enjoy it!� She looked
at me like I had three heads. �I got my ass handed to me. I had to
fight three rounds in pain, knowing I was gonna lose. You think I enjoyed
that!?�
�So why didn�t you quit? You could have thrown in the
towel; it would�ve been allowed.�
�I couldn�t do that!� She was almost shouting.
�I committed to fight the whole match! I couldn�t wuss out and� Oh,
I see what you�re getting at.�
We had to part then, but I gave her a little shimmy and
whispered, �This evening.�
Ms. Ou Yang smiled as I walked in. She waved her hand
towards a seat at the front of class.
�Anzu, do you need relief?�
The thing is, I was turned on. I was hot; I was
wet. All those guys looking at me, getting all stiff over me, knowing
they wanted me; all that and thinking about Botilda later; it was getting to me
all right. But I just couldn�t jill myself with people watching. I
hardly ever did even in front of Botilda.
�Nah, I�m fine.�
She had me work out a problem on the board. It was a
problem about acceleration in two directions. We had done it three weeks
ago, so maybe she was taking it easy on me. After that, class was pretty
normal, except for the being naked part.
Class let out and I ran smack into Kevin! He was there
and so was Botilda, who was grinning like a clown.
�Told you there was something worth waiting for, didn�t I
Kev?� she said just so proud of herself.
Kevin was really checking me out. I was so shocked I
didn�t even think to cover up, and by the time I was over being shocked, I
remembered not to.
�Looking good,� Kevin told me. �This is even better
than the bikini. What�s it like?�
�Oh, ahm, er�� I was still a bit flustered. He is
sooooo hot.
He chuckled. �Oh ahm er. Well, that�s clear as
mud.� He chuckled again.
�No really,� he continued, �what�s it like? Being all
naked, and everybody looking at you. You can�t even cover up with hands;
it�s priceless.�
I was starting to get annoyed with his attitude, and the
annoyance pulled me out of my befuddlement.
�It�s actually pretty embarrassing,� I told him, �What else
did you think it would feel like?�
�No, embarrassed is pretty much what I expected,� he
smirked, �You�re really gonna love it tomorrow when people start touching on
you.� He barked a short laugh and walked, no, he strutted down the hall.
Botilda and I just looked at each other for a few seconds.
�F.L.,� she started, �I don�t want to say anything bad about
your guy, but��
�What an asshole!� I interrupted.
�Yeah, that�s� that�s what I was thinking.�
She looked at me and shrugged her shoulders. �Maybe it
means he really likes you. You know some guys get stupid and try to act
all cool when they�re around a girl they like. And then you being naked�
well, maybe there wasn�t enough blood getting to the ol� brain.�
�Yeah, maybe,� I admitted. I really hoped he wasn�t an
asshole. He�s sooo handsome.
By this time we were walking, she to her Pre-Calc class, me
to my Modern Earth History. �Modern� means �after World War II.�
Some people claim that the dividing line should be placed at 1969, with the
first manned Lunar landings, or even after the earliest Breakout period in the
2030�s. This kind of makes sense, as spaceflight is the single most
notable difference between the time I live in and all that came before.
Others claim that the events which would lead to Breakout were firmly in play
at the end of the War, and that the current dividing line is right where it
should be. Some experts have even suggested 1991 as the deviding line, as
that year marked the end of the Cold War.
In any case, the course was an interesting one, and we were
up to the early 2000�s. Space tourism was about to get started, and a
return to the Moon seemed inevitable, the question being how and when.
The Program was just getting started, and YOU were about eight years older than
you were when this was delivered via those mysterious time travelers (which
don�t really exist, in case you haven�t figured it out yet).
Yes, there were a few Reasonable Requests along the way, but
they were just of the jump and turn variety. I only got asked for one
Desdemona shimmy. Aught to get that girl�s autograph. Botilda and I
split up about halfway there, and I walked in just before the bell.
�Cutting it close, Anzu,� Ms. Galton chided.
�Sorry,� I mumbled, �Reasonable Requests.�
�Well barely in time is still in time,� she admitted, and
then asked, �Do you need relief?�
�Nope. I can survive �till the end of school.�
She asked me a few questions about the history of the
Program, and then conducted her class as usual.
I didn�t hang around after class to ask about the term paper
thing. Her mail last night had said that I had to use the Journal as my
term paper, not that I could. I know that she considers it a matter of
pride, or honor, or not showing weakness or something to never change her mind
about anything, no matter what. She�d just say �The discussion is over�
before it�d even begun, and I�d have to tap into my veegeewushu training.
No, not to beat her up; to exert the self-discipline it�s taught me and NOT
beat her up. Ms. Galton has been struck by at least three students (none
of them me) since I started at O�Neill two years and some months ago, and every
time it�s followed something like that. There�s simply no point in trying
to reason with her.
And yes, Ms. G, I know you�re reading this. Dock my
grade if you like.
After that it was back into the halls, but I didn�t head for
Homeroom like most of the students. Nope, I had spoccer practice, and
that would finish my school day, instead of Homeroom.
And here I�m going to end the Monday: School chapter of this journal, which is too long already. I know that spoccer is a school activity, but it is different from my regular school day, and I�ve always considered it the first part of my after-school day.
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