Caution: This Fan Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/ft, Consensual, Lesbian, Heterosexual, Fan Fiction, Science Fiction, Humor, First, Oral Sex, School, Nudism, .
Desc: Fan Fiction Sex Story: Part I - Riverdale High institutes the "Program" just as Betty's self-esteem is at low ebb. Will attending classes in the nude win her Archie's attention at last?
"There she is," Betty Cooper grumbled. "And she looks like a million bucks."
Veronica Lodge could afford to look like a million bucks. She could afford to look like as many millions of bucks as she wanted. Her father was the richest man in Riverdale, and Betty had never seen her wear the same outfit twice. Today, she had on a fabulous charcoal suede jacket over a scarlet silk blouse, crisply pressed gray slacks, and black pumps. The tout ensemble was topped off with the subtlest makeup imaginable and a choker of unobtrusive pearls. Real, no doubt. Why Mr. Lodge didn't just ship her off to some exclusive boarding school was a mystery for the ages. But no, he insisted she attend Riverdale High so she could lord it over the peons.
Betty felt like a frump. She'd overslept and thrown on the same old jeans and purple sweatshirt she'd worn around the house Sunday afternoon, along with a pair of ratty pink tennies. One of the laces broke, and she had thrown them both away and gone without. She didn't even have time to put on a bra. She'd skipped breakfast, too, and in her rush out the door, she'd grabbed a sweater from the dark hall closet. It turned out to be her dad's, and it hung on her like a blanket. It hid her bouncing boobs all right, but the burnt-orange color clashed hideously with her corn-blonde hair.
Her hair! She hadn't washed it yesterday, and a furious brushing had only puffed it up into an electrostatic cloud.
"I want to die," Betty thought.
The girls approached one another from opposite ends of the block and met at the concrete walk that led to the front doors of the high school. Each threw one arm around the other's shoulders and pecked at the air beside her cheek. It was their customary greeting. They were, after all, BFFs.
Veronica's perfume was heavenly, too, like cinnamon and chocolate. Betty, her stomach empty, nearly swooned.
"Betty, what's wrong?" Veronica said. "You look a fright!"
Whether she was worried or gleeful was impossible to tell.
"Nothing," Betty said. "Just ... Monday."
"You should masturbate more," Veronica suggested. "This morning I pleasured myself with my platinum vibrator, and I'm ready to take on the world!"
"Platinum? How much did that cost?"
"Money's no object when it comes to orgasms."
Veronica's heels tapped on the concrete as she marched up the broad walk. Betty trudged along two steps behind, like an adjutant following the General of the Army.
"I don't know how you're going to ask a boy to the dance the looking the way you do," Veronica said over her shoulder.
She meant the Ladies' Choice Dance, which was held every April. It was a Riverdale tradition. The idea was to give wallflowers a chance to ask out boys who might never talk to them otherwise. Around school, it was known as the Losers' Ball.
"Well," Betty said, "if I can get a boy to say yes when I look like this, I'll know he likes me for who I am."
"That's the spirit."
A familiar voice behind them called, "Ronnie!"
It was Archie, hustling toward them from the street.
"How are you, Ron? I've missed you so much."
"We went out Saturday night," Veronica said coolly.
"It seems like such a long time ago," Archie said.
"I'm standing right here," Betty said.
"Betty!? Omigosh! I didn't recognize you. I thought ... I mean ... Omigosh!"
"It's all right," Betty said. "I've been told I look a fright."
By any objective standard, Archie Andrews was a funny-looking kid, with his freckles and his carrot-colored hair, which he kept short and parted in the middle. His wardrobe leaned toward red corduroy trousers, penny loafers, and anything with his school letter on it. Today, it was a black sweater vest with an enormous white "R" on the chest. But to Betty, Archie was a dreamboat. She had hoped to ask him to the Losers' Ball before Veronica got her hooks into him this morning, but she saw now the opportunity was gone.
"Have you thought about who you're going to ask to the dance?" he asked Veronica.
"I'm still thinking about it," she said. Betty hated how she led him on. Even more, she hated how he let her get away with it.
"What about you, Betty?" Archie asked.
"What about me what?"
"Who are you going to ask?"
She should have asked him right then, but suddenly, she was on her hands and knees, her books scattered before her. There was a concrete apron in front of the school doors, with a single step leading up to it, and Betty had tripped. It served her right, she thought, for being so distracted and jealous.
"Omigosh! Betty, are you all right?" Archie said.
"I'm fine," she said.
Archie squatted, picking up her books, while a pair of gentle hands gripped her under the arms and raised her to her feet. The hands belonged to Jughead Jones, he of the weirdly old-fashioned beanie, and Archie's best friend.
"You OK?" he asked.
"I'm fine, " she insisted. "Really." But she'd scraped her hands. They felt like they were on fire.
"Oh, Betty, look at your jeans," Veronica said.
They were torn — a gaping hole in the left knee, with a blue flap hanging from it like a loose denim tooth. Betty tenderly put her hand through the tear. Luckily, she didn't feel any blood.
"It's not bad," Juggie said. "A lot of kids wear them like that."
"You'll live," Veronica said. "Archiekins..."
Taking the hint, Archie handed Betty her books and took Veronica's. Veronica possessively hooked her arm through his and led him into the school. Jughead offered Betty his own arm as a consolation prize.
"Don't worry," he said. "Someday he'll come to his senses."
"What makes you so sure?"
"I've been taking bets. You're the odds-on favorite."
Betty leaned into him with a giggle, touching his shoulder with her cheek, and taking the opportunity to wipe a tear on his sleeve.
"You always make me feel better," she said.
Her eyes were still adjusting to the indoor light when she spotted portly old Principal Weatherbee standing in front of his office. He always wore a three-piece suit. Today, it was sky blue, with a butternut waistcoat. He was glowering about with that narrow-eyed, harrumph-ing look he got whenever Archie accidentally damaged school property.
He tapped Archie on the shoulder as he passed.
"And Miss Cooper, you're here, too," he said. "That is most convenient. I would like to see both of you in my office at once."
The day was just starting. What could they possibly have done wrong?
"You're not in any trouble," Weatherbee said, as if reading their minds. "In fact, it's something of an honor."
"An honor?" Betty said. "What is it?"
"In my office."
Archie handed Veronica's books back to her.
"I'll see you in Grundy's class," he told her.
"Hmph!" she sniffed, as if it was somehow his fault she had to carry her own books. Turning on her heel, she stormed off in a huff.
"See you later," Jughead said.
He followed Veronica at a safe distance.
If she and Archie weren't in trouble, Betty had to wonder what those two uniformed guards were doing in Weatherbee's office. One was a tall, skinny guy, the other a short woman with big tits and a fat ass. They stood at attention on either side of the door, and their grim expressions said they meant business, whatever their business might have been.
Weatherbee dropped into the chair behind his desk with a pained "Ooof!" The vinyl cushion hissed in agony.
"I am getting too old for these small spaces," he said. "Now, then—"
"Oh shit," Betty said. "This is The Program, isn't it?"
"Very good, Miss Cooper."
"What's The Program?" Archie asked.
"The Naked in School Program," Betty said. "I've read about it."
"Yes, and now that the warm weather is here, it has come to Riverdale," Weatherbee said.
"He's going to make us take off our clothes," Betty said.
"That is correct," Weatherbee said. "For the next seven days, the two of you will attend all classes and all school functions in the nude."
"Does that include the Losers' — I mean, the Ladies' Choice Dance?" Betty asked.
"All school functions," Weatherbee repeated.
"Omigosh!" Archie said.
Weatherbee sighed wearily.
"Yes, Mr. Andrews, oh my gosh," he said. "Now, the sooner the two of you remove your clothes, the sooner I can get back to my paperwork."
Archie's freckles had the cutest way of disappearing when his face turned red, and at this moment, his face was as red as a beet. Betty's ears were burning, and she knew she was blushing, too. They looked askance at one another, frozen with fear.
"Come, come," Weatherbee said. "Miss Cooper, I can see by your lack of a brassiere, you're halfway there already."
Still, the teenagers hesitated.
"The Program does take the modesty of its participants into account," Weatherbee went on. "Hence, the presence of these guards. If you do not disrobe voluntarily, they are authorized take your clothes by force — and I, for one, would not mind watching that."
"Well," Betty said, "I guess we're fucked."
"Perhaps later," Weatherbee said. "For now, we require only that you be naked. Proceed."
Shyly, Archie and Betty turned away from one another. Betty placed her books on Weatherbee's desk and covered them with her father's sweater. Then, drawing a deep breath and holding it, she crossed her arms, grabbed her sweatshirt by the hem, and dragged it off over her messy hair. Her titties popped free, jiggling. That didn't feel too bad. Betty had always enjoyed the tickle of cool air on her stiff pink nipples. If only it wasn't tickling her in front of the school principal and two uniformed guards.
She toed off her pink sneakers, balancing on the edge of Weatherbee's desk. Her heart pounded like a washing machine with an unbalanced load. Naked in school! Everyone pointing, laughing, hooting. Worst of all, that self-satisfied smirk on Veronica Lodge's face.
But it wouldn't all be awful, would it? In the first place, Betty was well-aware she had a terrific body, and her own taut skin was a lot more attractive than torn jeans and an orange sweater. In the second place, being nude might at least draw some of the constant attention away from Veronica. And in the third place — the third, glorious place! — she was about to see Archie Andrews naked. All day, every day, for a whole week. The thought of it made her heart beat even faster.
"Make the best of it," she thought, and with a sudden resolve, she pushed her jeans and panties down. The denim legs sucked at her feet, turning inside out as she pulled free, but in a Riverdale minute, it was done. Betty raised her head and squared her shoulders, thrusting forth her C-cup McGuppies. She hadn't trimmed her bush yet this year — bikini season was still two months away — but it was as golden as a host of daffodils. Never again would anyone doubt she was a natural blonde.
"There!" she said.
But Weatherbee wasn't looking at her. His gaze had settled at crotch level just to her right.
"Well, Mr. Andrews," he said, "it appears you do have one redeeming feature after all."
For the first time, Betty dared to look.
He was slender and white, and finely muscled. His pecs and abs were well-defined but not overly developed, and his thin legs were solid from all the team sports he played. But Betty had seen him at the beach many times in his bathing trunks. She could picture his chest and his thighs with her eyes closed.
It was the undiscovered country in between that captured her attention now — his brawny buns, clenched with anxiety, and his adorable little dick, with its purple-acorn tip, resting delicately on his soft scrotum. His pubic hair was a wedge of orange flame, just as Betty had always imagined it.
A hot flash passed over her body. Absently, she pinched one nipple between her fingers.
"Archie..." she said quietly.
His body was rigid with embarrassment, but he managed to turn his head toward her, slightly. He looked her over from head to foot, and he must have felt everything she was feeling, because at the sight of her, his tender stalk began to stir. Betty watched in fascination as it raised its head, defying gravity, and reached forward until it stood away from him, pointing right at old Weatherbee.
From tiny acorns do mighty oaks grow.
"Betty," he croaked. "Bets — I'm — I —"
Despite her humiliation, she couldn't help but smile.
"Glad to see me, huh?"
He nodded briskly, grinning like an idiot.
"Good show!" Weatherbee said. "Now if you two are finished with your mutual admiration society, you may go to class."
He opened a drawer and tossed a pair of white towels at them. Each towel, of course, was monogrammed with a red "R."
"Take these," he said. "Please use them to sit on. We do care about hygiene. You may also wear your shoes, and I strongly recommend it. The floors can be cold, and there's always the danger of stubbing your toes. Place your clothes in the boxes behind you. You may pick them up here at the end of the day. Let me see, am I forgetting anything?
"Why, yes. — Enjoy yourselves!"