Chapter 1

I felt a real knot grow in my stomach as I arrived at John C. Fremont High School for my senior year, seeing the notice for the Naked In School program that had become mandatory in much of the nation. Ugh, I thought. I need this like I need a hole in the head! How am I supposed to ignore the sight of a sexy ass naked girl wandering the halls and not get hard? I'm a virgin, but not by choice! You try getting laid when your father is a full-scale, Hellfire and brimstone, revival tent running, fundamentalist Baptist preacher! Yeah, that's what I thought. I've got a better chance of going to prison, especially given my disgust with the whole fucking corrupt system!

Granted, some things in the Program made sense, but that didn't mean that I reveled in it. I doubted that I would personally benefit from the increased sexual enlightenment. Some lucky football captain would get those honors, wouldn't he? Dad railed against the new Program, but in the end, Mom and he decided to hope and pray that I didn't get selected. They would burn that book when they got there, I supposed. Yeah, I love my folks, but an open mind is not one of their strengths.

The worse thing was that the poor selected girl would have to shower with the guys, use the men's room, and all the other jazz. Well, as it turned out, I should have worried less about her and more about me. You see, when I got there, I was immediately stopped by Principal Anton Goldman, a nice enough guy, with a few Ph.Ds, but still he had chosen me as his victim. Why in the name of Whoever had I been chosen for that?

"Mr. Smythe, bad news for you. Your number came up. We got tired of charges of favoritism, so we drew names by lottery this year, and yours fell out. You're to strip now, leave your clothes with us, and walk naked to your homeroom class, Mark. Again, sorry about this. We have to be fair, and if someone else had been selected, we'd be telling him the same damn thing," Dr. Goldman assured me.

"Just my luck, I guess. Lucky me! Not your fault. At least you're trying to be fair and considerate. Rules are rules, I suppose," I grimaced as I bared my body in front of the principal, getting a reaction that I didn't quite expect ... a bulge in his pants ... was Principal Goldman gay?

Anyway, I managed to walk naked to my homeroom without too much trouble while reading the guidelines of the absurd exercise in public humiliation that I had to undertake that year. I was to wear nothing but shoes the entire school year, yes, BOTH semesters, while using the ladies' restroom and locker room, and I had to grant every "reasonable request" made of me. What the hell constituted a "reasonable" request, anyway? What, for that matter, would be considered an "unreasonable" one?

In my homeroom, I discovered that there were not one more, but two more students now included in the Program this year. One was Adela Royce, an exchange student from Bristol, England. She was pretty in a pale, classic British way, with long, white blonde hair and baby blue eyes, and she seemed to take the news with remarkable grace. The other student was apparently part of another experimental change, including students who fell outside of the gender binary. I took one look and was startled at just how attracted I was to Chloe Zamora, a Latin male-to-female transsexual who was definitely pre-op.

It was impossible to hide this, much to the annoyance of Evelyn Howard, our homeroom teacher, who had been saddled with all three of the school's unfortunates from the Program this year. I personally suspected that she must have angered Principal Goldman or Vice-Principal Lucinda Clarke somehow and she knew it, so would take it out on the rest of us. Ms. Howard had been the subject of much gossip in recent years about her supposedly bedding other teachers, parents, and even students, but no evidence had ever surfaced about her in that way. She struck me as a normally nice person who had simply been pushed too far and had snapped, but I doubted that others would see it that way ... that woman needed to work on her PR!

"So, class, let me clear a few things up, right now! I know that this is only homeroom, and I know that we now have three Program members in our classroom, but I expect a degree of respect and decorum around here. You're teenagers and like to think that you're mature? Prove it! Yes, for the record, Mark Smythe, Adela Royce, and Chloe Zamora are Naked In School enrollees, and yes, they must honor all 'reasonable requests, ' but let's keep this within bounds. I bet never hear of any rapes. If they let you take it 'all the way, ' count yourselves lucky, but if they decline, respect their refusal. That includes for Mr. Smythe. It's rape to force a guy, too, not just with a girl. Arousal does NOT equal consent! Are we clear, class?" Ms. Howard slapped her ruler down to punctuate her point.

"Yes, Miss Howard!"

"Good, now, any questions?" Ms. Howard asked us.

"Yes, so, would it count as a reasonable request if I wanted to suck that she-male cock of Chloe's? And if so, does that make me gay?" Andrew Corbin, as usual, demonstrated both abysmal ignorance, prejudice, and self-loathing, not to mention a crassness that I would never duplicate, no matter how liberated I might be (and thanks to the internet, I wasn't nearly the homophobic bigot that my parents were).

"She's not a 'she-male, ' Andrew! She's a girl, okay! She's not a circus freak! Just because she has a dick doesn't make her male at all. If you suddenly had a pussy, would you then be a girl?" I spoke out of turn in sheer disgust.

"Well, look who's speaking, Mr. Son of a Preacher Man! Didn't know that your church taught political correctness instead of the Bible!" Andrew taunted me.

"Both of you, pipe down! Mr. Smythe, I want to see you after class. No detention, just don't repeat it, okay? Mr. Corbin, learn some respect! Mr. Smythe spoke out of turn, but he was right and I can understand why he did it! Compassion for another human being is a good thing, as is standing up for others who are being bullied. Just cool it on the foul language and leave it to the teachers to handle this sort of thing in the future. Anyway, you made the same point that I was going to make, just a bit more profane than how I would have said it myself. Mr. Corbin, you get detention for bullying today. Do you want to make it two days in a row?" Ms. Howard scolded us, but especially him.

The look on Chloe's face was priceless, of course, going from outrage and sadness at Andrew's query to pleasant surprise when I stood up for her, and then even more warm fuzzies when Ms. Howard punished Andrew right away for his cruelty. Adela blushed a little, but then moved closer to me, as did Chloe, as if shielding me from whatever backlash I might suffer. Ms. Howard kept giving me strange looks for whatever reason still mystified me. The rest of the homeroom was quiet after that, until I stood up, at which point Chloe planted a kiss on my left cheek and Adela on my right.

"Mr. Smythe, I want you to know that I really do respect that you said what you did. I get it. I don't know you very well yet, but I am already impressed and I don't impress that easily, young man. For anyone to speak up for another person like that, even at the risk of breaking rules and getting in trouble, that's real courage. That's what a man should do, if he is a real man, that is.

"However, I still have rules to uphold, one of which is do not speak out of turn. I was going to put him in his place, though I can see that you're skeptical. You're not much for trusting authority figures, are you? You tend to think that we're mostly crooks, don't you? Well, not me, but I can see why you feel that way.

"Still, it was nice to see the look on everyone's faces when you told the star running back of the football team what you thought of his transphobia and his bullying. I can guarantee that it will leave an impression on him, on her, and on others, though I have to warn you that he could seek to retaliate in some petty way for what you did. Him or some of his friends, that is.

"Also, I want you to know that I can only sympathize and imagine how weird this must be for you. It's a bizarre situation for you, but I hope that you can turn it around to your favor. If you're smart about it, and I know that you're bright enough that you could be, you'll figure out how. Still, that's your call.

"I know that I come across as a bitch in class, but that's part of the job. I've had to play glorified babysitter to kids who half the time don't wish to learn anything anymore, so that tends to grate on me, plus the county doesn't pay me well enough or even cover all of the school supplies. I'm expected to pick up the slack. Anyway, enough of that. TMI, I suppose. Suffice it to say that I'll keeping you my eye on you, young man," Ms. Howard declared with conviction, her dark brown eyes suddenly revealing her lust for me.

"Thank you, Ms. Howard. I understand, too. I guess that we're both going to learn some lessons this coming year," I tried to will my cock to go limp, but the presence of what was frankly an attractive, thirtysomething African-American woman didn't make it easy.

"Yes, I suppose that we are," Ms. Howard winked at me, much to my shock, as I walked toward my first class, for which I was already running late.

"So, did you get taste any brown sugar? Got jungle fever now, horse cock? With a dick that size, your mama clearly did! Bet you fuck her, don't you? You're a zebra left by the mailman when she was stepping out on your old man! You're fucking all the white pussy, even your mommy's!" Larry Scott, the football wide receiver, taunted me in the hall.

"Ignore him! He's just jealous that you have a big cock and he wants to suck it! I personally say that he's a 'wide receiver' in bed, too. Likes to take the dick in the butt!" Chloe spoke behind me, her own pretty little cock quite stiff, despite her efforts to keep it soft and tuck it in.

"Or he's a racist prick, not that I give a damn. His buddy Andrew clearly put him up to it. He can kiss my ass, for all I care. Mark, by the way. Chloe, right?" I introduced myself properly.

"Yes, I'm Chloe now. I was christened Carlos, but that was then. This is now. I could have gone for Carla, but I liked the name Chloe better. It just seemed to fit me more. Oh, and Mark, he should be so lucky as to get to pucker up to you like that. We all should. I wouldn't mind doing it myself," Chloe stunned me as we entered the biology class five minutes late.

"Ah, the naked kids! Two of them, no less! I don't know what you were doing in the hallway or whatever, but we don't cut any slack for people who are late for class, whatever the reason!" Mr. Waldron, a heavyset, balding man who genuinely seemed to hate his life and everyone in it, snapped at us, "Now, sit your naked asses down and listen to the lesson!"

Mr. Waldron, for whatever reason occurred, chose to single me out in particular for abuse, though he thankfully left Chloe alone. I hadn't said a word out of line in the entire session, but he kept finding excuses to correct me, belittle me, and make snide remarks at my expense. I resented him very much, at least until he made a revealing comment that brought everything into focus.

"So, Mr. Smythe, I know that you probably think that science is godless, but some of us here still believe in it. Perhaps you'd care to explain to me why your father and his brethren hate science and logic so much!" Mr. Waldron attempted to put me in my place the one time that I objected to something even small that he said.

"Mr. Waldron, I can't speak for my father, only for myself," I told him rather bluntly, which drew more than a little attention to me and made the teacher's ears perk up from the unexpected independence.

"Okay, why do YOU reject science, Mr. Independent?" Mr. Waldron chuckled, expecting a typical creationist talking point.

"I don't, sir," I stated baldy.

You could have heard a pin drop in the room right then. Chloe squeezed my hand to show her support, which made me feel even bolder. It was clear that I had made at least one friend that year. I smiled at her, while Mr. Waldron coughed and sputtered.

"So, you consider the Bible to be a science manual, then?" Mr. Waldron then picked up some Chick tracts of the sort that my parents freely distributed, "Or perhaps these?" He pointed to one in particular that mocked evolution from a very dubious standpoint.

"No, I don't, sir," I clarified, shocking him further ... his face was red now, with both surprise and embarrassment (and I was the naked one here).

"So, are you saying that you're NOT a creationist, Mr. Smythe?" Mr. Waldron opened the door, and naturally I walked right through it.

"That's exactly what I'm saying, sir. I believe in evolution, Mr. Waldron," I answered clearly, making jaws drop now.

"And how did you decide this, when your parents have drilled the exact opposite into your head all those years?" Mr. Waldron demanded to know.

"I simply decided at some point of my life to think for myself and do the research, sir," I explained, really making him nearly choke on his coffee.

"Oh ... that's ... unusual, Mr. Smythe. Very admirable, but abnormal, I'll tell you that much. Clearly, you are a very rare young man, doing that much, you know, science, for lack of a better word. Just as clearly, I've misjudged you. I owe you an apology," he now stammered as he recovered his composure.

"Apology accepted, Mr. Waldron. I understand. Believe me, I do. Everyone thinks that I'm just like my parents, so it's not just you. I'm my own man, though," I declared, while Chloe gripped my hand tightly and smiled at me.

The bell rang, but before I left, Mr. Waldron walked over and shook my hand, "I think that perhaps we got off to a rocky start. Clean slate?"

"Clean slate," I agreed, now feeling that I might have yet another friend, "And in case you're wondering, sir, I also believe in man-made climate change."

"Be still, my beating heart! There is hope for this country yet!" Mr. Waldron exaggerated his shock, but he really was a bit stunned by my intellectual emancipation.

"Maybe, but time will tell. Friends?" I asked him as Chloe held my hand.

"Friends, but I think that you should pay more attention to your other friend there," he grinned at me right then, while I blushed and turned around to find Chloe's lips pressed to mine.

"Chloe ... wow! That was a kiss!" I turned a little red, but I didn't let go of her hand.

"That's kinda the point, Mark. It's what boys and girls do when they like each other, you know," Chloe winked at me as she held my hand through the hall, clear to the classroom for my next period, which was English class.

"I have to let you go now, but I'll see you after it, if you don't mind, Chloe. Just so we understand, since you're being so bold, you're wanting to date me, you know ... be boyfriend and girlfriend?" I asked her to be clear.

"Yep. Don't worry, I know that we can't be exclusive, at least not this year. What we want to do after that, if we're even still together, we can cross that bridge when we come to it. Let's just date and have fun with each other for now, not worry about what we do with others. We may or may not last, so why spoil it with jealousy, right?" Chloe amazed me with her common sense.

"Why me?" I asked her.

"Because I like and trust you, silly! And we're in the same boat," Chloe swayed her hips as she walked to her own class, American History.

"That we are," I thought aloud, nearly tardy for yet another class ... nearly.

"Well, well, I thought that we'd have to send out a search party, but here you are! The Streak himself. Welcome to my humble classroom, Mr. Streak, where in spite of your lack of clothing, I will still endeavor to teach you how to write essays. This is English Composition and Literature, after all. This class will kill both birds with one stone by means of, you guessed it, required reading and book reports! I'm your new teacher, Mrs. Cavendish. Any questions?" Mrs. Gladys Cavendish, our English teacher, announced to all of us, but singling me out.

"Yes, can I sit on his lap while we study?" Sarah Karloff, a majorette, asked the teacher ... like most majorettes, she had only her spankies under her skirt to separate her flesh from mine.

"Well, you CAN, but may you? And requests like that are made to the Program member, not to the teacher, Ms. Karloff. Well, Mr. Smythe? May Ms. Karloff sit on your lap during class?" Mrs. Cavendish blushed, but still posed the query.

"Yes ... I guess," I agreed, though part of me dreaded the serious tease that she would give my dick from her fine tush resting close to it.

"Sweeet!" Sarah giggled and planted her booty on my lap, uncomfortably close to my exposed, very stiff cock.

"I'm going to enjoy doing this to you all school year long," Sarah whispered wickedly to me, as she rubbed her butt-crack on my dick and giving me seriously blue balls.

I'm not sure how I absorbed any information during the class, given how much Sarah deliberately kept moving her ass as she slid it along my dick to tantalize me through her spankies. I was hard as steel by now and she obviously delighted in this fact. Sarah very much on purpose went out of her way to maximize the effect of her cute tush on my prick. I groaned in a low voice, but tried my best to move past the distraction. I actually did better than Mrs. Cavendish, in fact, who visibly poured beads of sweat as she saw how shamelessly Sarah teased me. The bell hadn't rung before she wrapped up her lesson and let us go, wiping the sweat off her face and trying not to stare at, not my cock, but Sarah's lovely tits and ass.

"Thanks for helping me put on a good show for the teach, stud. Who knows? You're no jock, but you're built rather well for a preacher's son. You're still a virgin, though, aren't you? At least you're not a closet case like the teacher. I bet you that she's gay all the way," Sarah giggled as she delayed lowering her skirt so as to tease me more.

"A bet, huh? That seems like an obvious one. I bet you that she'd sleep with you if you let her," I countered as we walked through the hall and Chloe caught up with me.

"Oh, care to make it interesting? What are the stakes? How about this bet, since we're betting ... if her husband knows that she's gay, then you win. If he doesn't know, then I win. We send him an anonymous text to see if he knows or not. We wait to together to find out. And before you complain that we're ruining her life, remember that he deserves to know if his wife is putting him off because of lesbianism, right? He deserves the truth about something that affects him," Sarah thought openly.

"Or we could just ask her directly if she wants to date you or whatever. If she does, you can decide if you want her to really tell him and dump him," I retorted.

"Betting on Mrs. Cavendish's sexuality? Don't bother. I know that she's gay ... and divorced. She filed as she came out to him. Can't blame either of them. She's not exactly heartbroken over him, just over the uber femme bitch who didn't keep her end of the deal and leave her husband for her. Mrs. Cavendish ain't exactly butch, but she's not a total femme, either. Now if you want to make it really interesting, how about we bet that Sarah can't make Mrs. Cavendish her willing, drooling, slavish pet. I bet that she can't. Want to join that bet or simply act as a neutral arbiter?" Chloe laughed now.