Chapter 9: Unveiled

“Let’s begin, shall we,” boomed the voice of Prof Galloway, as she and Lisa entered the classroom. “Sara, please take a seat in the middle of the class, and we’ll begin.”

The shock of walking into a room full of art students in her birthday suit was enough to make Lisa momentarily forget that the professor was addressing her. The eyes of a dozen artists looked out from behind easels and stared at her. Some of the younger students, especially the males, were wide-eyed and wide-mouthed, while the older ones had more detached, analytical gazes, though none was without a hint of surprise.

Lisa imagined that most models only disrobed once they were inside the room, rather than walking through the door already naked. They probably all thought she was an exhibitionist, though that could hardly be further from the truth. She could feel her face burning up with shame, and had to look down at the floor to avoid eye contact with the artists.

It took all of Lisa’s willpower to not wrap her arms around her body and run away. Rationally, she knew that would only make things worse—without Colin, she wouldn’t be able to find the tunnel entrance. Where had he gone?

The other option, she supposed, would be to explain to Professor Galloway that she actually wasn’t Sara the model, and ask for some clothes, but that would fall apart as soon as she proved unable to wear or even touch the clothes. It had been difficult enough telling Colin about her condition, she didn’t want to let this whole class in on it as well.

So, as awful as the thought of spending the next two hours posing nude was, it appeared to be the best available choice for an unwillingly perpetually naked college student who just wanted to get to her friend’s dorm while drawing the minimum amount of attention to herself. She would stay here for now, act the part of Sara, and hope that Colin managed to find her.

“Sara?” asked Professor Galloway. “Hello?”

“Oh!” said Lisa, snapping out of her reverie. “Sorry, Prof, I just zoned out for a second there.”

“That’s quite alright. Please take a seat so we can begin.”

Lisa nodded and slunk towards the platform in the center of the room, where a large red cushion had been laid out for her comfort. She plopped her butt down and crossed her legs, glad for this small bit of modesty.

The first pose Prof Galloway had her assume allowed her to relax a bit more. She twisted her torso slightly, and draped one arm across her breasts, covering both nipples, with the other arm resting at her side. Her chin tilted up, and she tried to remain as expressionless as possible.

“Perfect,” said Prof Galloway. “Class, you may begin.”

Silence descended on the class, save for the soft sound of pencils on paper and the irregular click of Prof Galloway’s shoes, as she moved around the class, pausing to look at each student’s work. Occasionally she offered some terse comment, or, more often, just the cluck of her tongue.

Lisa focused on maintaining her pose, keeping her eyes facing upward and away from anyone else’s. She thought back to the party Bethany had made her attend naked. It had been dark, and she had been masked, and the shots Bethany had given her had numbed her feelings. It all seemed like a dream ... except for the sushi table. No mask could distance her from that memory ... Lisa refocused on her pose. She thought about Bethany, and was once again relieved that Colin had saved her from being caught naked by that vile bitch.

A few things made this experience different from the party. The room was well-lit. Everyone, especially Lisa, was thoroughly sober. And they could all see her face. She was being studied, intensely, from every angle, by trained artist eyes. There was no chance any of these students would fail to recognize her on campus. At least her pose was a modest one.

“Sara, let’s switch things up a bit,” said Prof Galloway. “I’d like a nice arch in the back for this next pose.” Galloway put her arms behind her back and momentarily leaned her head back, intending Lisa to follow suit.

Lisa shifted uncomfortably and bit her lip. So much for modest poses. She reluctantly removed her arm from her chest, letting her breasts loose. She noticed all too keenly the effect this had on the male painters.

Galloway, impatient, jerked in and out of the leaning position another couple of times. Lisa caught her eye and nodded, fighting to remain expressionless as she shifted on the cushion. She placed her elbows down for support and arched her back, bringing her head down and sticking her boobs out. Long dirty-blonde hair cascaded down below her, and she felt blood rush to her head.

“Thank you, Sara,” said Professor Galloway.

The air filled with the sound of rustling papers, and then once again with the sound of pencils. Lisa looked up at the patterns on the ceiling, grateful that this position did not allow her to make eye contact with any of the artists as they formed the shape of her upturned breasts. The thought made her blush.

Galloway clearly appreciated the discomfort of Lisa’s current pose, so she did not make her hold it for long. She encouraged her students to replicate the pose in a few strong lines, with the minimum of detail added before it was time to change.

“Let’s have you on your side, Lisa. A nice recline, if you would.”

Lisa let out a relieved breath as she released the arch in her back, and then rolled over onto her side, supporting herself on one elbow. This pose required her to uncross her legs, giving half the class a view of her buttocks, and the other half a look at her breasts and blonde pubic hair, a landing strip she’d been allowing to grow out. And she could make eye contact with the second half, though she tried not to.

The gazes of the artists were quick, darting, and very serious. An older boy with brown eyes appeared to be working on the curve of her hip, and a girl about her own age briefly studied her feet. A couple of younger guys kept sneaking glances at her breasts, but were so erratic and embarrassed about it that they couldn’t have been doing a very good job actually drawing them. Lisa smiled to herself as Prof Galloway chided one of them, repeated stabbing his easel with a wrinkled index finger.

After this third pose, it was time for a break. Lisa pulled herself into a sitting position, slouching and letting her arms relax at her sides.

“Thank you, Sara,” said Prof Galloway. “You’ve been excellent so far. There’s a robe for you hanging on that screen in the corner, if you’d like.”

Lisa looked in the direction indicated and saw a silk robe draped over the top of a wooden changing screen. She longed to hide herself from the intense gaze of the artists, but knew that it was futile to try wearing anything with her curse back at full strength. “That’s okay,” she said, using all her willpower to sound casual and nonchalant.

“I assumed as much, considering how I found you wandering the halls,” said the professor. “You’re a natural. I do hope you’ll model for us again.”

The professor trotted off to talk to some of her class individually, and Lisa slowly rose from the cushion and subtly stretched her legs. Without a set pose, she felt awkward and fidgety. It would look ridiculous for her to start covering up after having declined Galloway’s offer of a robe, so she tried to adopt as modest a stance as possible without betraying her discomfort. She kept her legs close together, but not touching, and fidgeted with her hands to avoid placing them over her breasts.

“Sara, come take a look at what you’ve inspired,” said Prof Galloway, beckoning her over. “No masterpieces, I’m afraid.”

Lisa walked stiffly towards where Galloway stood behind the easel belonging to a mousy, freckled girl with large glasses. The girl looked down at her feet, unable to make eye contact. Was it possible that she was more embarrassed about her sharing her art than Lisa was about being naked?

The drawing of Lisa in her reclining pose was familiar enough to bring a blush to Lisa’s cheeks. The girl hadn’t drawn in her face, but the body that Lisa had spent so much time looking at in the mirror was all there in black and white. Lisa marveled at the detail the girl had managed to evoke with so few pencil strokes.

“I love it,” she said, causing the girl to lift her eyes for a moment, a smile spreading across her freckled countenance.

“Now, now, don’t let the praise get to her head,” said Prof Galloway. “A solid effort, Miss Jenkins, but the legs are a little stubby, no? Sara here has beautiful, long, slender legs.”

Lisa looked away as the professor and Miss Jenkins spent a moment studying her bare legs.

“Yes, I see it now,” came Jenkins’s quiet, high-pitched voice.

“You might do better on the next pose.”

Prof Galloway led Lisa around the room, on a tour of the artists’ renditions of her body. Miss Jenkins’s was among the best. Many were misshapen, or had unsteady lines, or looked a bit too stylized. Still, there was some good art mixed in with all of it. One of the older male students had done a fantastic job of drawing her butt—even she was shocked that it looked that good.