Chapter 1

“Sit down, please, both of you. I’m afraid that I have some very ... bad or at least awkward news for you. Both of you. Jack, Julie ... you’ve both been selected for the Program this week. Yes, THAT program. The Naked in School week program. You will need to discard your clothing, here and now, because this takes effect immediately. I know that you’re step-siblings, but these things sometimes happen that way, I’m afraid,” my principal, Jamie Lazaro, rather abruptly informed both my stepsister and myself.

“But why us?” I objected.

“Because the numbers demand it, kiddo. We’ve lost track of the various combinations, and this is the only that at this trajectory will permit us to avoid matching blood relatives together. I think that you can see how that makes this the lesser evil. We crunched the numbers, and there are just too many cousins and blood siblings, even an aunt and nephew, who would be matched together if we didn’t pair you two up at this point,” Ms. Lazaro insisted, but I smelled bullshit, and I wasn’t alone.

Somehow, the arithmetic didn’t add up in my head, and while I was no math whiz, Julie was. She sniffed the air, coughed, and even slipped in the word, “crap!” Ms. Lazaro blushed a bit, but then rolled her eyes and wagged her finger at my stepsister. She tried charm on me, or rather, her feminine wiles. I think that she figured that Julie was a lost cause, but I wasn’t so sure myself. I saw the way that my stepsister ogled the principal now and then.

Jamie Lazaro was well aware that her eyes were captivating to at least most of the male half of the student body, and probably half of the female half as well. She had the most intense shade of hazel orbs that bewitched far too many folks and got her very far in life, especially when matched to somewhat elfish looks and a firm, well-toned body left over from her pro tennis player days. I still wondered why the fuck she was an educator nowadays. How the actual fuck does one go from Wimbledon to this?

I was more than a little uncomfortable under the lustful leer of my high school principal, to put it rather mildly, and so was Julie, for that matter. Of course, I also had a raging boner, or rather, like most teenage males, I WAS a raging boner ... a thick, long, walking, talking hard-on attached by mere accident of Nature to a scrawny, sickly adolescent deviate. This wasn’t going to make it easier to strip in front of Jamie and Julie, was it?

Slowly, nervously, I disrobed, anyway, my underwhelming physique getting no real attention from Ms. Lazaro or my stepsister until my throbbing member was exposed to the light of day. Jamie’s eyes widened like flying saucers, even as Julie’s jaw dropped and I caught her licking her wet lips even glossier still. All of the sudden, I was being objectified, and frankly, I didn’t quite see the downside to it. All of the radical feminists and their objections, if you asked me, were spoiled bitches who didn’t know how good they had it in life. Talk about your First World Problems, right?

“Bro ... wow! I had no fucking idea! I’ve lived with you for three years and had no clue that you were hiding that ... snake in your pants! Watch out or you might get bitten yourself by it!” Julie laughed awkwardly, her native Quebecois accent coming out a little more in her sincerity.

“Impressive, isn’t it, especially for a dork like Jack. Well, I didn’t know what to expect for sure, but this week is gonna be a game-changer for both of you, I suspect, in more ways than one,” Ms. Lazaro said as she tried to tear her eyes away from my thicky, veiny cock.

“Well, as my old Uncle Groucho would say, ‘you’re not so bad yourself.’ Nor are you, sis,” I noted that both my principal and my stepsister had bodies that drew guys to them like bees to pollen.

“Yeah, like Groucho was any kin to you, mister, but I’ll take the ass-kissing in the spirit with which it was given. Maybe ... someday, when you’re not a student, that can be ... literally on offer, right?” Jamie coughed while Julie blushed for her part and instinctively covered those pale, naked breasts of hers.

“Now, now, sis ... it’s Naked In School week, not ‘Self Hand Bra’ week, right, Ms. Lazaro? If I have to expose my naughty bits to the whole student body, so do you! Besides, maybe now Dutch Oven will give you a second look!” I teased her about her high school crush, Bert Bamburg, whose nickname never made sense to me (why name him after cooking ware?).

To be fair, there was that rumor that his extended family was Amish or something, so maybe that was the reason for it. I brushed it from my mind and focused on sneaking in stares at Julie’s own considerable charms, now quite visible to the naked eye in her glorious state of nudity. My stepsister, who hated being called “step” anything, was a naturalized French-Canadian lady from Montreal, though her father was Jewish rather than Catholic. I didn’t care about that, though.

What mattered was her pure, luxuriant nakedness, her now revealed ravishing beauty in all of its glory, from the auburn locks and tresses that followed each other almost the whole way down to her freckled backside. How did she get freckles on her bottom, but not even the first hint of a tan, anyway? She burned badly in the Sun, I knew that much ... it was terrifying to watch it and hear her screams of pain as ointment was applied to her overheated skin with regularity each summer. I just never witnessed it being rubbed onto her buttocks, that was all.

One look into Julie’s green as fuck eyes ... and one could easily fall head over heels in love with her. Why she didn’t date more often was beyond me ... probably too picky like most rare beauties of her sort. Her mother was another kind of beauty, of course ... blue eyes with jet-black hair. Every bit as pale, though, that was true enough. Julie must have inherited her father’s hair and eyes, but her mother’s complexion, at least from what I’d seen. Her brothers were the opposite: farmer’s tans matched to jet-black hair and baby blues.

Oh, yes, Julie Avignon had twin elder brothers, Claude being the firstborn and his carbon copy Marcel not far behind him. They were both named after famous painters, of course. Both of them were as unartistic as such fellows could be, jocks who went out of their way to make my life hell until they went to college last year. Each had a full ride, an athletic scholarship that let them play, albeit for different sports. Claude was into shooting hoops, while Marcel preferred good, old-fashioned hockey. Ice hockey, that is ... being Canadian and all that jazz.

With that, intruding upon my thoughts, Jamie Lazaro unceremoniously ushered both of us out the door to her office with a slap to each of our butts and a hint of a devilish wink on her face. What was my devious principal up to, anyway? Thus we got dumped, naked as jaybirds, into the hallway and sent straight to homeroom with wolf whistles and ogles sent at both of us now.

Julie was a bit more used to that sort of thing, of course, being a completely radiant beauty herself, but for me, it was a heady wine. The sheer number of girls who bit their lower lips in obvious arousal and appreciation of the unexpected bonus of my package ... it blew my mind, to be frank. Most girls didn’t give me the time of day most of the time. I was considered, if thought of at all, as some kind of creep, nerd, virgin, etc ... probably all of the above, to be totally honest.

Mrs. Dominguez took one look at me, then at Julie, shook her head, lowered her posture suspiciously in her chair, and went back to reading her favorite novel ... fucking Twilight, for whatever reason! I rolled my eyes at that, even as I noticed the way that her upper arms and whole body moved in response to each other. My God, the woman was jilling off to one or both of us! Right there, in homeroom period, my teacher/glorified babysitter, masturbated to either or both my stepsister and myself in the nude.

Then again, to be fair, Fabia Dominguez was rather easy on the eyes herself. A sultry Tejana from El Paso, she more than looked the part of the classic mamacita, cliche as that might be. She had a delightfully earthy complexion, jet-black hair that flowed in perfect waves down from her head, and the most piercing, dark-brown eyes imaginable. She even liked to wear a flower of some kind in her hair at times. She was admittedly rather plump, but that was hardly an issue in my book. Speaking of books, her questionable taste in literature was more likely to be a dealbreaker than her weight, that and her notoriously jealous hubby, Miguel.

Well, there was also the factor of being a student and her being the teacher, not that it stopped some teachers in every school, sooner or later. The Naked In School program, whatever its virtues, had only increased the incidence of such things to the point that the authorities basically looked the other way these days. Trying to stop horny students and teachers from having at each other was increasingly an exercise in futility.

Also growing was the teen pregnancy rate, but that was hardly a shock, either. It was a fucking bonanza for adoption agencies and abortion clinics these days, not to mention condom and birth control makers capitalizing on the desire to clamp down on the crisis. My own attitude was that it wasn’t really a crisis if you could prevent it from causing a spike in poverty. My bias was very pro-natalist, as I saw it in Darwinist terms ... the more youth replaced the older generations, the more the species would improve its genetic quality and diversity. See, I told ya I was a fucking nerd, but did you listen to my warning? NOOO, of course, not!