Fifth Day (Thursday)

Teri

At breakfast, Father greeted me with, “I’ll drive you to school. I have business there anyway, so might as well kill two birds with one stone.”

I blinked. “Yes, sir.”

Usually I walked—it wasn’t even 2km. Sam drove Ricky, but their before-school practices were way too early for me. Besides, it’d mean riding with Sam and Ricky. If we left here at my usual time, though, we’d arrive too early—but I could cope. I had to. Though—

“Um, can we stop at Starbucks on the way?”

I looked up from his tablet—solemnly amused. “Ah, is that the way of it? Certainly.”

Except for what was necessary at the drive-through window, we didn’t talk. He paid for my triple-shot latte—hadn’t expected that. It had almost cooled enough to drink when he pulled into a parking spot.

Wait—this wasn’t the visitor’s lot, but the small one reserved for staff and administrators. Was that allowed?

Father reached into the back seat to pull a manilla folder from his briefcase, then looked at me. I tried to meet his eyes. I suspected that somehow, Dana would be able to, even with him. I had no idea how.

“Teresa,” he finally said, “you are a strong young woman, capable of protecting yourself in many situations. Don’t let this blind you to those around you who can help.”

I swallowed. “I’ve been learning that, this week.”

He nodded. “Good. Come.” He got out and headed for the main entrance, and I followed.

As we passed the Program Office entrance, I stopped and said, “I, uh, have to go in this way.”

He considered me a moment. “This once, I think, it would be best if you were clothed. Come.”

I took a deep breath. No, really, Participants have to strip, strip here, before entering school. The prospect of even a single Program demerit frightened me—I did not want to repeat my week. But I obeyed, chugging down my latte as quickly as I could.

In the main office, Father greeted Skinner with a nod and a quiet, “James.”

Skinner nodded in return. “Manuel. To what do we owe the pleasure?” He did not look at me at all.

Father held up the folder. “About your lighting issues—we figured you deserve an incident report in person, at least.”

“This way.” Skinner gestured towards his office and headed in himself.

Father indicated I should precede him.

This was rapidly reaching What The Fuck territory, and I try not to even think that kind of language around Father. I went in, and he closed the door behind him. Skinner sat down at his desk, and we took the chairs in front of it.

Father tossed the folder on top of it. “Basically, the boys told the truth: they found a utility that would let them take over the main school marque display. They were being coerced by members of the JV basketball team to insert a couple messages into the sequence. Unfortunately for all of us, the utility included a worm designed to wreck random havoc, one sophisticated enough to also take over the general lighting control systems.”

Skinner frowned. “How sure is the JV connection? Could they be shifting blame?”

Father smiled with less warmth than a rattlesnake in February. “Positive—the messages to insert were sent to them, couched in threatening language, using school accounts. The relevant evidence has been sent to Michelle Jackson to deal with as she sees fit. But the important part is, our system admins assure me that, as of yesterday afternoon, the worm has been completely flushed and all systems are restored to their previous state. If there are any reports of erratic behavior, please let Azula know ASAP.”

Skinner continued frowning, but nodded. After a moment, he said, “But you didn’t bring your daughter here just for that.”

Sweat trickled down between my shoulder blades.

Father smiled, slightly more warmly—more like a rattler coiled on a warm June rock. “Of course. I’m not here to jog your elbow, but I’d appreciate, given my personal connection, knowing what’s being done regarding yesterday’s incident.”

Skinner closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose, and sighed. “With all due respect, this is not my favorite topic right now. Jackson suspended all four boys for a week, ‘to start’ she says. Coach Delgado is on my case for leniency—he has high hopes for the wrestling team this season, and the boosters know it. I told him he’ll have to wait till we hear from the DA.”

He sat up and folded his hands on his desk. “Which brings it back to you. Are you going to press for charges?”

Father glanced at me out of the corner of his eyes. “We’re still considering it, pending the DA’s report.”

I stared at him. We were even considering letting them off because—why?

Father caught my eye and shook his head fractionally—a we’ll-talk-later sort of shake.

Skinner grunted. “Fair enough, I suppose.”

Behind him, the radiator went poot!

Father stood, the rest of us with him. He shook hands with Skinner saying, “We’ll be in touch.” Then we left the way we came.

As we walked outside, I realized Father was sweating too—and it was not from nerves. He’d been cool as a cold-case cucumber in there. At first I’d thought he was reporting up to Skinner, but no, he was telling Skinner off—’not to jog your elbow’ and ‘with all due respect,’ like he was Skinner’s boss.

We stopped outside the Program Office entrance. “We’ll talk about charges when I get home,” he said, “but do think about it. We need to be certain, either way.”

I nodded. Certain about what?

“Anything else?” he asked.

I knew this was pretty much the least of my worries right now, but I had to ask. “What, exactly, is your job?”

Eyebrows raised. But he said simply, “My title is Deputy Superintendent of Public Instruction. It’s the highest non-elected position working for the School Board.”

So not just working for the county—he was one of the people running the county schools. “So the computer admins report to you?”

“Es verdad.”

I shook my head. “I didn’t know that, exactly.” Or even, at all.

“Yes, well—I don’t think I knew what exactly my father did till I left for college. A humbling reminder. I’ll see you tonight. Take care,” and with a gesture to my entrance, he strode off.

When he was far enough away he couldn’t hear, I took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. I just hoped this wasn’t prologue to another day of revelations. I wasn’t sure I could handle more.

Either way, I wanted to see my friends.

Mike

Teri was already in the Program Office when I rolled in. With a sly smile, she looked at me through lowered eyelashes. Not exactly a smoldering look, but I still almost went over and asked, “Is it hot in here or is it just you?” But no, we needed to act normal. As normal as I could, anyway.

Besides, it really was warm. Had someone turned up the thermostat anticipating the coming storm?

Dana stumbled in soon after, wearing a light-pink sweater and matching hair-clip, and blinked at the warmth. She smiled to me and sat down next to Teri—who did the same lowered-eyelashes thing at her. Then Teri stood, turned somewhat toward us, and started stripping.

For us.

Not stripping at us, mind—nothing so blatant that others would recognize it. Her gestures as she took off her clothing were not erotic. But it still got me hard.

Dana was as interested as I in watching, and waited till Teri finished binning her clothes to stand herself. With her chair between us like it was, she couldn’t face us both at once, so she looked across the room to strip. Her gestures, like undressing alone for bed, were even less erotic. It got me still harder.

That had to count as two statements of ‘still interested.’ My turn.

When Dana finished adjusting her flats, I gestured them both over—as subtly as I could while using both hands. They knelt in front of me to take off my deck shoes while I pulled off my sweatshirt, then together they worked my track pants off. Again, nothing erotic—indeed, it was the fastest I’ve ever undressed since the accident.

I was going to need relief in English, though.

Teri, though, had other ideas. Still kneeling at my left knee, she whispered, “Save yourself for second period.”

I swallowed. She wanted to do something in math. “I’ll try,” I said dubiously.

“You’re strong,” she countered.

“Time to pull down my big boy pants, is it?”

She barked a laugh. “That’s the spirit.”

Ms Jackson came over to Dana. “You never got your recorder back, did you?”

Dana shook her head as she pivoted around to her pack, and pulled a finger-sized object from the outer pocket—the same as she had yesterday at the end of homeroom.

“Replacement?” Ms Jackson asked. “Right—invoice the school for reimbursement. We don’t have approval yet for supplying them to Participants, but you shouldn’t have to cover a loss made in the line of duty. What model?”

Dana went into a spirited solo discussion of the tradeoffs between storage space, mic gain, and price. After a minute, Jackson held up her hand.

“Send me your recommendation plus two alternatives—briefly explaining your reasons.”

Heh. Dana nodded, and she and Teri sat down.

Gail asked, “Are you an audio geek or something?”

“Nah,” I said, “she just likes tech specs.”

It was supposed to be teasing, but Dana nodded in agreement. As if she didn’t care about having a nerdy reputation—or maybe wanted one.

“Ha!” Gail said, as if it were a good joke.

I glanced about: Teri looked mildly amused, Marshall was watching Dana as if fascinated, while Chip looked ... smug? Smirky, anyway. Maria and Jake were ignoring us as they flirted—I heard him say, “Is it hot in here or is it just you?” and cringed.

Wait—that meant all of us were here. Did Dana want to say anything before—

The bell rang.

“Okay, people,” Mr. Alverez called out, “again, we’ve got a lot to cover, so while Chip finishes disrobing we’ll get started.

“First off, as most of you have probably heard, there’ve been a couple incidents of violence involving Program Participants, at least one specifically Program related.”

Wait—other than Teri? What else was going on?

He went on, “If at any time you feel unsafe, get out of the situation. Use your whistle, if you need to. Don’t worry about crying wolf: if you feel threatened, you feel threatened. If you don’t have your whistle today, I expect Dana has more? —ah, yes, she does.”

While Dana handed replacements to Jake and Chip, plus another consent bracelet to Maria, Mr. Alverez wiped his sweaty face with a handkerchief.

“Second, I want to talk a little bit about relief before class. Many of you are taking the opportunity, as expected, but some of you aren’t so much. Specifically, over the last three days, Chip has requested relief only twice, Mike and Dana once, and Teresa never.”

Thank you for paying attention, I thought sourly.

“The typical Program Participant relieves their arousal, in one way or another, twice during the day. Now this is not a quota, and you are not required to take that relief in class—but one goal of the Naked In School Program is to provide a safe venue for exploring your sexuality. Not relieving yourself as needed is one warning sign that this might not be happening.”

Meaning that, unofficially, it is required. Great.

The radiator in the corner, behind where Mr. Skinner sat in a grump, went poot!

Teri scowled, and raised her finger to be recognized. “My next class is almost always on the other side of the school, but I rarely manage to walk ten meters between periods because of constant ‘reasonable’ requests. By the time I get to class, there’s no time left for relief.”

Mr. Alverez looked startled. “By ‘constant’ you mean?”

“I mean five, six, eight requests to touch me between classes—finish one, take a step, and there’s the next.”

Dang. Not counting lunches and our study-group, I’d gotten a grand total of one touching request. I knew I shouldn’t be jealous, given how she hated hated HATED that kind of forced attention. But maybe, for a few moments, I felt envy.

Mr. Alverez looked around. “Has anyone else experienced this?”

Dana raised her hand. Maria did as well, saying, “Not to Teri’s level, but some—and I’ve seen what she goes through.”

Alverez smiled at Teri. “Popular, are you?”

Bastard. I clenched my fists. If I could walk, there was a good chance I would have lunged and swung for him.

Teri, though, just snorted in derision, as did Marshall. Gail actually snickered.

Alverez got the message—and looked troubled. “This is the sort of thing we need to know about—the Program should not be used by peers to punish the unpopular.”

Ms Jackson broke in, “Ms Florez, we’ll talk later, ‘k? Before we run out of time on this again, we’ve got one more topic to cover.” She held up Dana’s recorder. “This is a digital recorder. Because of Ms Partlow’s foresight, she had one on her person during one of those ‘incidents of violence’ and so provided some key evidence of what actually happened. They are also useful for Participants in general, such as when there’s a disagreement over requests without other witnesses. They’ve been recommended by the National Counsel for a while, and we’ve just proven why. We’re still looking into providing them for Participants, but if you or your parents have one already, we urge to bring it to school and set it to record through the day.”

“What about the mic on our tablets?” Marshall asked.

Dana shook her head. “If you carry it in a sleeve or your pack, it doesn’t pick up conversations very well.”

“Anyway, that’s all for now,” Ms Jackson said, glancing at the clock—less than thirty seconds before the end of homeroom.

Dana gestured us into the center for our huddle. Softly, almost too low for me to hear, she said, “Remember, we’re allowed to give each other requests between classes.”

“Extended requests,” Maria added, just as softly.

I added, “Check your maps.”

Nods around the huddle as Dana caught each of our eyes.

Slightly louder, she said, “All together—” and we all came in with, “—we can do it.”

The bell rang.

And I knew what I wanted to do for Dana.

Dana

It took me a moment to put away my (sadly depleted) baggies of whistles and wrist-bands, and Mike hung back—so we were the last two Participants to leave.

“I have a request,” he said as I picked up my pack. “Blow my horn.”

“Excuse me?” Much as I might like to give him one, requesting a blowjob is not considered ‘reasonable.’

He grinned. “Sit on my lap, O naked girl, and honk—so I can use both hands to maneuver through that crowd. I’ll give you a ride most of the way to English.”

The stinker—he teased me but good, there. “That sounds reasonable,” I said and quickly popped myself into his lap.

Maria held the door open for us. Mike slipped us out, right into a boy I recognized as an associate of Teri’s sister Sam, from Monday morning. He pointed at me as we rolled past. “Hey, I got a request—”

“Sorry!” I called out, and honked twice. “Already in the middle of one!”

And with another couple honks, we pushed through the press. I had to go oogah! every other meter, it seemed like, till we got near the stairwell. Mike’s horn is the classic rubber-bulb type, mounted on the low chair arm, near his right knee—no electronic replacement for him. Which made sense, for a joker.

And every jostle of the chair, his erection rubbed against my bare lower back. His thighs were warm too, almost sweaty, though that wasn’t due to me. Or not just me. Made me regret not having his English class—mutual relief with him sounded good. Though of course, world literature also sounded a lot more interesting than Puritans a la Hawthorne.

He let me off at the hallway junction.

“Catch you before math.”

“You can factor on it!” he countered as he zoomed on toward the elevator.

I groaned and headed to class, grinning like a polynomic loon. Never mind it was so atrocious a pun it didn’t make sense—I was happy.

English itself was—well, Hawthorne’s historical fiction was better than actual Puritans. Even if Goodman Brown’s a total twit. I have to admit, though, pagan they may be, but I have a soft spot for maypoles.

It would have helped if the vents weren’t blowing at full fan, without heat—made it a bit chilly on naked skin.

At the end of class, I asked Jacqueline, “Quick favor—you turn left out of here, right? Could you make me a reasonable request I can take while walking, that will occupy us to the stairwell?”

“Ooo-kay,” she said dubiously. “Like what?”

“Walk behind me while holding up my breasts, because you want to feel how heavy they are when they’re this size.” I was taking a small risk here, given I knew from our time at Bryant that she’s totally straight, but she’s a tall, willowy girl with a nearly flat chest—and had shown enough curiosity in science class last year to make a good lab partner.

Curiosity won: she tocked a forefinger forward and intoned, “Make it so.”

I hadn’t known she watched old science fiction—learn something every day.

Took us a couple moments to synch up our strides, what with her legs being so much longer, but with the top of my head coming well below her chin we fit together quite nicely.

“Gotta ask,” she suddenly said, “why are we doing this?”

“While I’m fulfilling your request, I can’t take another.”

After a moment, “Ah!”

As we reached the stairwell, she commented, “You must really want that bra, when you put your clothes on to go home.”

“Oh yeah,” I said fervently. And just as fervently, “Thanks a bunch.”

“No prob.”

Thank goodness she’d never been offended by my asking her out three separate times. (I can, sometimes, be a bit too persistent.) I tore myself out of her hands and up the crowded stairs.

Mike was easy to find—he’d almost reached the stairwell himself. I jumped in front of him and said, “Request: Carry me.”

“Ha! Reckon I deserve that. Hop on, O my callipygian delight.”

I giggled and settled in, and with another oogah! we rolled off. “We need to catch up with Teri,” I said quietly.

“Gotcha.”

It didn’t take us long, which was fortunate because Teri needed help. Four guys with ugly expressions stood in front of her, one with his hand between her legs. Double-fortunate: they didn’t block her back.

“See?” she told the boy. “It’s a pussy.”

I pounced on Teri’s arm, clutched myself to her. Looking up, I said, “Request: Carry me.”

She flexed her thighs—the boy yowched and yanked away his squeezed hand. As soon as he let go, she told me, “You got it,” and crouched down, low enough to get her shoulder under my butt—and then just stood up, lifting me so I sat on her shoulder and upper arm, head less than a meter from the ceiling.

“Ack!” I almost shrieked, laughing. I steadied myself on her upraised hand. It was easier once I slung my bag over my other shoulder.

“Hey, I was next!” a boy protested.

“Tough—she asked first,” Teri said and started walking. They parted before her, eyes and mouths open.

They weren’t the only ones looking at us—looking at me. Talk about standing out in a crowd! By the time we reached the corner, just about everyone had a phone out, taking our picture. Couldn’t exactly blame them: I knew from yesterday that Teri’s strong, but it was astonishing how effortless she made it seem, holding me up like this. Not a tremor in her arm beneath me—I felt completely safe.

The view from that high up was odd, though—I’m not used to being able to see over people, let alone the tops of their heads. It was like I was visiting a kindergarten or something—one where I seemed to them a seven-day wonder of a giant.

As we approached our classroom, Teri said conversationally, “Yanno, for a strong boy, you look like you could use a little relief.”

Mike drawled back, “Ah reckon I could, Miz Teri.”

“In that case—” Teri bent down to set me on my feet before the door, as pretty as you please, “—we orter do something about that.” She looked at me expectantly.

Did she mean I should? I raised my eyebrows, and Teri nodded.

I smiled, then bowed Mike into the room. “If you’ll come this way, Mr. Smith, we’ll see to your needs.”

The bell rang right as I stepped through the door. Falcon nodded to me. “I’m very glad to see you,” he said to us, looking especially at Teri. “Relief, anyone?”

Teri and I shook our heads.

“Please,” Mike said. “With assistance.”

Falcon gestured him to the front of the class, as I sat down in front and Teri headed to the back. “Any volunteers?”

I raised my hand, as did a half-dozen other girls. Mike looked startled, hesitated half a moment, then nodded to me.

I pulled my travel-size bottle of baby oil from my pack (I get dry skin in winter) and knelt before him, using my towel as padding for my knees. As we spread his legs wider, so I could lean between them, I said quietly, “You can pick someone else, if you want.”

“I’m not stupid—and neither are you.”

Meaning this was what Teri wanted—and I ought to know he wanted me anyway.

As I lubed my hands with a generous dollop of oil, I felt even odder than during Teri’s ride—what with Mr. Falcon, Perry-from-Meeting, watching me about to give oral sex one of his students. I wasn’t sure whether it was that or the chilly room that gave me goosebumps, but I surely didn’t mind the warmth of Mike’s legs as I draped myself over them and wrapped my fingers around his generous cock.

Very generous—I could barely get my hands all the way around it, and there was more than enough room for both hands on its length. Had this really fit inside me? And was I starting to drool at the thought of getting this boy inside me again? Well, all the better to lubricate and stroke, then.

As I rubbed oil up and down his shaft, I licked around the broad head—salty with sweat—he twitched as my tongue passed over that sensitive area just below the hole. I smiled—no way I’d take more than his head my mouth, but I could at least do a good job with that.

What I wanted was time—time to give this boy pleasure, to draw it out, to draw him out. I had only a few minutes. I wrapped my lips over his head, licking the underside, and I stroked him with my right hand while caressing his balls with the left. I immediately struck a steady pace, matching the tempo of his pulse beneath my hands—beating him to his heartbeat.

After a few seconds, his eyes rolled up and he took a gasping breath—his next breath, he closed his eyes, lifting his head up and gripping the arms of his chair. I watched him as I worked him, and found, there—that pace, that rhythm, those places. That pleasure—and his pleasure was my pleasure.

Oh, but this was a nice cock. And I don’t say that about many of them.

Soon he was panting, straining, holding himself still as I built him toward his sweet release. He was already seeping pre-come, bitter and salty, and there, in his balls—twitching, tensing, swelling. Jerking—pumping—his semen burst into my sucking mouth, and I swallowed as quickly as I could. Spurt, and spurt again. Only as he dribbled off did I slow down, and when he relaxed, finally, I started to lick him clean. He opened his eyes.

Behind me, applause. But the only approval that mattered was how he looked down at me and smiled.

Teri

Dang, but that was sexy. I could almost see the appeal of pornos, if they could capture moments like that.

Sexy enough, I could almost conceive of taking relief myself.

Sexy enough, it wasn’t till the lecture started that I noticed a reminder of a meeting with some dude in the athletic department. No message, just an appointment for right now. Obviously a glitch meant for someone else, possibly a sign of more system issues. I dismissed it and tried to pay attention to the powers that be—or at least powers of X.

Or even of XXX.

Mike

Whoa.

Okay, that was a better blowjob than Tara’s—better even than Teri’s. Which was not a fair comparison—Teri’s had been rushed. It was as if Dana read my body every rising step of the way, like some sort of whatchamacallit—feedback loop.

My arms were so limp, it took to the end of our relief time to wheel over to my parking spot. As I set my brakes, Dana leaned over, pointed at the whiteboard, and said firmly, “Focus.”

Mr. Falcon had already put up two hairy equations and graphs to go with them. Dang, dang squared, and dang cubed.

But most of all: Whoa.

Dana

I should probably not give Program relief to people I have an emotional connection to—it turns me on too much. It took being Very Firm with myself to concentrate on the lecture. I was going to want relief in chemistry. Pity Mike wouldn’t be there, but Teri would. Would she be willing? Would she want it herself? Would X ever manage to settle down into equality with Y? Tune in tomorrow, when Dana is less giddy!

Or that’s something of what I was like, anyway. I at least got down notes good enough to use later, but the one time Falcon called on me, I looked at the equation cross-eyed.

At the end of class, I twiddled my fingers at Mike—though what I wanted to do was kiss him—and headed back to Teri’s desk. She looked up at me with a sly smile, much like the one she wore before undressing. Hello, hotness.

A boy, Hunter, stopped and looked at me, then shook his head. “I thought you were lesbian?”

I smiled. “No, sorry—bi.”

“Oh.” He looked nonplussed.

“And on that note,” Teri told him, “buh-bye.”

He took the hint and left.

“Ready to brave the great narrow world of the hallway?” I asked.

“No,” she said, and stood up with a sigh. “Got any bright ideas?”

“I request that you hold my hand while we each count the number of steps it takes to get to chem, using our regular strides, so we can compare how our bodies work.”

“Sounds as reasonable as anything else.” She took my hand and led me out the rear door.

We did it properly, too—lined ourselves up in the middle of the hallway, put our feet together, and started deliberately pacing. A few steps in, I started counting aloud, and she followed suit, under her breath—making it more clear we’re Doing Something. A few guys tried to break in, but I waved them off: “Sorry—twenty-five—in-a-request—twenty-seven—” and so on. I’d forgotten about the corner of the hallway, though: because I was on the outside side of the turn, I had to travel the longer path.

We deliberately came to an exact stop even with the classroom door: “Forty-two” to “Fifty!” Then before another request could step up, we hustled into class—with over a minute left before the bell. Early for the first time this week!

I looked up at Teri, she looked down at me—and we started giggling. I hadn’t heard Teri do that before—she has a nicely deep, gurgling laugh.

She shook her head. “That was either crazy-brave or crazy-stupid.”

“Or just crazy.”

She measured the top of my head with her hand. “Do you always take such long steps for your height?”

“I’m used to having to keep up with longer legs,” I said. “Do you always take such short ones?”

“Better balance for my weight.”

Which made sense. She moves very deliberately—it makes her look heavier than she actually is.

When Vicky hurried in, half a minute before the bell, I was already sitting on my stool. She stopped short in surprise, then joined me. “You’re early.”

Which isn’t the sort of comment you can say anything to. “Yeah, well.”

“I hear,” and her voice dipped lower as she leaned close, “you got a bit of a ‘boost’ this morning.”

With all the phones snapping pictures, I wouldn’t be surprised if two-thirds of school knew about my ride. “It was certainly a new perspective—actually being able to see over people.”

“‘If I have seen further, it is by sitting on the shoulders of a giantess’?”

I looked at her severely—Teri’s sensitive enough about her body image, I was pretty sure she wouldn’t like being called that. But then the bell rang, and Cadwallader asked Teri and I if we wanted relief.

It’d been a full period in a chilly room (the vents were still going full-blast) since getting off Mike, which had cooled me down a bit. Relief from Teri might have been nice—but from the way she shook her head, no. I declined as well, and Cadwallader immediately started her review of last night’s readings. I tried to not sigh and pay attention. Even if the only interesting thing to happen in class was ending with a pop quiz, and since it was pure vocabulary, it wasn’t that interesting.

At the end of class, as I packed up as slowly as I could get away with, Vicky glanced at Teri, then leaned toward me. “Weren’t you scared?” she asked. “Getting carried like that. I mean, she’s not the, ah, most athletic kid in school.”