Chapter 7

JOHN

I hurried the short way from the nurse's office to the main bulletin board outside the office. I was concerned about what might happen to Emily while she waited there for me. I didn't think she was in any real danger per se, but standing still anywhere in the halls for more than a few seconds could start something very uncomfortable. It would make her seem visible and available for RRs.

I needn't have worried. As I approached the board, I saw her coming down the hall. Apparently, she was delayed, too. I went over to her and together we walked to the board.

Some of the decisions we already knew about. The Irish dancers would be in costume, for diplomatic reasons, the rest of the Program Participants would have to appear naked. Others, we hoped for, and got. Bodies, in part or in whole, could temporarily be obscured by equipment necessary to the performance. It gave examples of musical instruments (such as Clarise's cello), and magic props (for us. Huzzah!). The news got better: Things which gave the appearance of nudity, and did not obscure primary or secondary sexual anatomy (translation: groin, butt, and chest), would be allowed. And something we had not even thought to hope for. No RRs would be allowed during setup, rehearsal, or performance times for the show. I'm writing from memory, but it made it clear that it meant that for the entire time set aside for setup, the entire rehearsal time (not just that for the Participant(s) in question), and the entire performance time (not just that for the individual Participant(s) in question), we would be safe from such distractions. I'm sure Perry could quote it letter for letter. There was one more thing, and not a positive for some Participants. Those Participants, the original eight as well as those added during the week, who had already committed to doing the show before being named as Program Participants (of either sort) were required to keep that commitment. Failure to do so would be a Program violation, with relevant consequences. It would be treated like missing all or part of a Program day (which, in effect, it was). In other words, skip the show, and you spend another week (or more) naked, and illness or the like is no excuse.

After we read that, we headed off for lunch. I was kinda nervous. This would be our first time actually eating lunch in the cafeteria since our Program week started. No more private dining room (ok, conference room) for us. On the way there, we passed a kaleidoscope of naked and dressed bodies (some half dressed), talking, posing, touching and being touched, and in a few cases engaging in blatant (and very public) PDAs or sex acts. None of them seemed forced or anything like that. I just slid deeper into my safe place, and kept going. I told her about the incidents in PE and the locker room. While she was too deep to show any emotion right now, she said she was sorry it happened, and she would look out. By the time our OBLs had carried us to the serving line in the cafeteria, I was very deep. It seemed that Emily was, too.

While we waited in line, I noticed that no one was bothering us. I know the rules say we can eat lunch in peace, but in weeks past that had not stopped some people. Sometimes people would walk toward us, but when they were close enough to see us clearly they changed their minds. I don't know whether it was our dead looks and posture or our reputation as a quick ticket to Official Trouble. Or both. But I was still very aware that I was stark raving naked, and standing fairly helplessly in a room full of other people. And that many of them were looking at me or us rather thoroughly, if from a distance. I felt their attention like a suffocating pressure, closing in on me. Deep in my safe place, I knew that I was in no immediate danger so I dialed my emotional response down.

I decided I needed my strength today, so I got a double cheeseburger, along with my usual fries and milk. Say what you will about much of what they serve, this caf fries up a mean potato.

Also I got a nice, large orange. And some pudding for desert. What can I say? The food was free, after all. Of course, TANSTAAFL was in full operation: it was only free because I was standing here helplessly and involuntarily naked, with every bit of my body hanging out for everyone to see.

When we had our food, we went to our usual out of the way table. The usual crowd were mostly there, but there was plenty of room for us. And just like previous weeks, they largely left us alone to enjoy our food in peace. And I did enjoy it. After the last couple of days, actually eating the food at serving temperature was a nice change of pace. It was just better that way.

Emily seemed to enjoy her lunch, too.

About halfway through our feast, I noticed a ripple of reaction from our table mates. Someone was coming to the table. I triggered the recorder in my bag, took another bite of burger and waited.

"John," I knew the voice, even before I turned around. The coach's assistant. I turned to face him, still chewing and showing no emotion. This could go one of two ways. He could confront me over the trouble he got in because of me, or he could apologize. I didn't know him well enough to guess which. His voice and body language were not much help. He was upset, but not furious or frightened. I swallowed my food, and waited.

"I... I wanted to say I'm sorry for what happened. She said you wanted to try it as a personal challenge. The way she said it, it made sense. I never thought anything bad would happen to you, other than coming in dead last. I'm sorry, man."

"I understand. Thank you." He seemed unhappy at the lack of emotion in my voice. I think he would have preferred anger to that.

"Are you going to be ok?" He sounded worried.

"I should recover. I will be out of PE for a couple of days. In a way, it worked out well. When I went in early, I caught her and someone else messing with my locker. It would have been a lot worse if I had waited 'til the end of class."

He had not heard about that, and asked me the details. I told him the girls' track coach could fill him in, and that I needed to finish my lunch and get to the office. From the sounds around the table, he was not the only one disappointed by that response. He said he understood, and offered "If there's anything I can do..."

I nodded in acknowledgment, then turned back to my food. I allowed myself to enjoy another byte of still warm cheeseburger, noting each taste, smell, and texture it brought to my mouth. I lost myself in the experience.

But all too soon, we were done. And I had to get to the office, for whatever (probably about the locker). We got up and took care of our trays, then headed for the door. A couple of people moved as though they were going to intercept us, but we had our Official Business faces on, and one shied away. The other was intercepted by friends, and pointed toward other Participants in the room.

Our OBLs carried us quickly to the office, through halls pulsing with sex. Or maybe that last part was just my imagination. When we got to the office, we were directed to the chairs just outside the principal's office. As we sat there, I became more aware of my situation. I was sitting there, visible to anyone who took a little effort to look, naked. Every normally hidden part of me was hanging out there, for anyone to see. And we were sitting there like we were the ones in trouble. I went deeper into my safe place. The room seemed a little fuzzy, and not much of anything mattered.

The door opened, and a couple of boys walked out, looking dejected. Dejected, but dressed. Maybe the whole world would not be naked by the end of the week after all. He came to the door, and invited me in. Emily started to follow, but he gestured for her to sit back down. Curiouser and curiouser.

After I walked in, he closed the door and gestured me to a seat.

"As a matter of policy, I have to do this in private. I'm sorry. Now, there are two incidents we need to discuss. First, I need you to describe what happened at the track."

I told him about it, every part I could remember. I also told him about the apology.

He commented that the apology was both a good thing and a smart one. I began to suspect why we were alone. "Is this being recorded?"

"Yes. I'm sorry, I should have made that clear in the beginning. Will that affect what you say in any way?" Talk about a loaded question.

I assured him that it would not. He asked that I hold any more questions, except for clarification, until we were done. I agreed. I had a pretty good idea what was going on.

He asked me about the actions of the coach. Why did he leave? What did he do before he left? What provision did he make for our supervision and safety? How long was he gone? What happened when he came back? And so on.

After that, we went through the actions of the assistant. And what he told me, then and later.

And then about the actions of the girl and the team member.

Finally, he asked whether there was anything else I wanted to add about what happened on the field.

When we were done, I asked if he could turn off the recorder, claiming it made me uncomfortable. He did some things, and said that it was off. It was clearly not true, but I didn't blame him. I asked him whether the coach was in trouble. He said that wasn't determined yet. He explained that an investigation was required, by law and District policy, whenever a student is injured under certain circumstances. Someone could claim, for instance, that my reinjured side was due to his negligence. I expressed my confidence in the coach and the assistant (and the other assistants - there were three in the class). I expressed an honest hope that he would come through it ok.

Then we moved on to the locker room incident. Again, he was thorough in gathering facts about the actions of the (female) coach. And my actions. And those of the girls. But his questioning was not as intense. He asked me about what was damaged. I told him about my shoes, socks, towel, and lock. I also told him that the bag smelled somewhat of the perfume, but that seemed to be fading. I also told him that the coach had replaced the lock and assigned a new locker (which I had already mentioned).

He mentioned that the two girls (or their parents) would be required to replace the damaged items, and those damaged in lockers next to that one. He said I should go ahead and buy replacements, then give him the receipt.

Then he asked me whether I wanted to press criminal charges against the girls, over and above any disciplinary actions the school would take. I told him I wanted to think about it, but I was not inclined to. He smiled a little at that.

We concluded the formal stuff, and this time he did turn off the recorder.

"For my own peace of mind, did I influence your response about the charges?"

"No, not really. I hadn't really thought about that part, and I wanted time to think about it. I still do. I know about Susan and her mother," I rolled my eyes, "but I don't really know anything about the other girl. Has she been in a lot of trouble?"

"Not a lot. Pretty much none at all, until she started hanging around Susan."

I told him candidly that I liked the idea of holding the option open, as a way to "encourage" the girls, and any more friends, to leave us alone. He told me that he understood. It was getting close to the bell, so he wrote late slips for the two of us and gave them to me. As he walked me to the door, he thanked me for my help and, on behalf of the school, apologized for both incidents. He turned to Emily, and apologized to her for leaving her out there.

I gave her her slip, and we headed for our classes.

Chemistry was probably my favorite class. This week, anyhow. I walked in, handed Dr. Burns my tardy slip, and put on the blessedly concealing lab coat. It felt like everyone there was watching me, and for the most part it was true. I still knew I was naked under it. Everyone there knew I was naked under it. I couldn't escape the attention, but at least I could feel covered. Even with my temporary covering, I remained deep in my safe place.

We got into more detail about Ph, acids and bases (aka alkilis), salts, and that stuff. We talked about what happens when you mix an acid with a base (nothing fun). When he asked for examples where we might do that in "real life", one person said "making dinner" and another said "after dinner". Asked to elaborate on the second, the mouth that roared talked about taking a couple of antacids. Unfortunately, this got into a discussion of acids and bases in our body. And yes, someone actually made the joke about "first base, second base, third base" while pointing to a nearby girl. When he got to "home plate" she responded "and you'll never get to ANY of them!"

Getting back on track, everyone knew about stomach acid, but we couldn't agree on spit. Of course, that was a good description of the class, anyway. I suspect this has happened before, because he had us perform a brief experiment to find the answer (complete with writeup, of course. Jeez!). We used the Ph papers to test our mouths and get the answer (base).

Then some joker suggested that we should do the same thing for urine and other bodily fluids. I winced as he tried to volunteer me as a logical source of samples. Dr. Burns declared that he didn't want to stink up the room, then turned it around and gave it to us as a homework assignment (to measure our own), complete with report (of course). Someone threw a paper wad at Mr. Mouth, just as the bell rang.

Regretfully, I took off the lab coat and hung it up. With even more regret, and a swan dive deeper into my safe place, I took off for my Health and Humiliation class.

Bridget met me outside the door, but we stood aside to let Susan storm in, trailed by a cloud of reaching hands.

Ms. Prothrow was delighted to have a new model. Once again, we moved from STDs to anatomy and physiology. Susan, of course, was anything but thrilled. As she moved to the spot I had occupied on Monday, she shot an angry look at Bridget and me. As she adjusted her position, Ms. Prothrow leaned in and said something quietly in her ear. At a guess, something like what she said to me on Monday.

As she had with me, Ms. Prothrow gave the class a guided tour of Susan's genitals. As she did so, Susan went through a variety of expressions, some of which seemed to show involuntary arousal. The latter seemed to amuse some of our classmates, including Bridget. When she was done, she had us line up to do our individual inspections. She reminded us that we would get more points for more detailed descriptions, with more sensory information. She also warned us of dire consequences if we hurt Susan.

While we were waiting in line, we watched and listened to her responses to the people in front of us. In a distant, academic way I noted that she seemed very responsive. Meanwhile, the wait in line was annoying. Bridget was in front of me, and another girl was behind me. She kept bumping into me, and it was obvious that it was not accidental. In part by the way she rubbed my butt when "getting her balance back." After the fourth time, she demanded that the person behind her (apparently a friend) quit pushing her. Whether that was the cause or an excuse, it was clear that she posed no real threat, so I kept my focus inside.

I noticed Ms. Prothrow sneaking hopeful glances at me, and noting my lack of response. While Bridget was taking her turn, we were reminded to make our observations thorough. I suspect that was aimed at me. I got myself into an attitude of indifference to the ordinary body part I was about to describe. It was really no more remarkable than an elbow or a mouth. When it came to my turn, I squatted down in front of her and took a look at the lay of the land. Keeping my internal recorders running, I noted the matted pubic hair, the swollen inner lips, the wet look of her vagina, perineum, and anus, and the like. I reached forward to gather tactile information, and she let out a shriek like I had stabbed her and snapped her legs closed. She barely missed trapping my head and hand in the process. Startled, I fell back on my heels. Her crude attempt at framing me might have worked, if Ms. Prothrow had not been watching me so closely.

"He didn't even touch you yet! I'm sure the office would be interested in an apparent attempt to carry out your earlier threats. Now behave." I suspect she was more angry about killing the mood she was hoping to build than about the attempted frame. But I doubt that she was exactly pleased about that, either.

Subdued, Susan opened her legs again and repositioned herself. We both understood that now I could do something painful and she would not dare complain. And if she did, she would not be believed. I noticed that her inner lips were less swollen and her clitoris was less prominent. I set my fingers as though I was going to pinch something, then moved my hand toward her clitoris. She looked genuinely worried. At the last moment, I moved my hand down a little bit and used the fingers to gently spread the lips. I noted the little dimple of the urethra, and the lack of any sign of a hymen at her still moist vagina. I noted the feel of the various parts. Then I leaned in and smelled. Mostly, it was what I expected from such a body part. The most prominent smell was sweat, accented with mild touches of urine and fecal residue. The sweat was more reminiscent of the girls' locker room than the boys', but otherwise seemed ordinary. There was also a vaguely musky, animal sort of smell that I didn't really recognize. I carefully collected some of the lubrication from just outside her vagina. It felt a bit slippery, but didn't smell or taste like much of anything.

I shrugged, then moved aside for the girl behind me. I noticed Ms. Prothrow looking at my still flaccid (and dry) manhood, and looking very disappointed.

I went back to my desk, and wrote up my observations. I covered my visual, tactile, olfactory, and taste (whatever the word for that is) observations. The only real direct auditory observation was her shout, which was not really a part of that body part. While I did hear some muttered references to it and a slang term for her vagina, I think they were characterizing the whole girl. I did mention her vocal responses to others in line.

By the time the whole class had gone through the line, there was no question about her state of arousal. She was dripping profusely into her towel, and shifting around uncomfortably. Her face was flushed, she was perspiring visibly, and all the rest. Ms. Prothrow pointed out all of the indicators, and then took pity on her and allowed her to finish herself off. Of course, the narration distracted her a bit. But it was certainly an unusual way to end class. She collected the descriptions, allowing those last in line a few more minutes to write, and told us that tomorrow we would be going more deeply into arousal and response, and that we should read the relevant parts of our books. Susan looked like she did not know what to make of that, but was reasonably sure she did not like it. While we were gathering our things and preparing to leave, the phone rang. She answered it, acknowledged the message, and hung up. She quietly said something to Susan, then returned to her desk.

Ms. Prothrow sorted through the papers and looked at one. As she read it, she kind of slumped. I guessed that it was my paper, and she was disappointed with what she read. She wrote something on the paper, then looked at some others.

When the bell rang, most of us made for the door. As I passed her desk, Ms. Prothrow looked up at me with an expression I couldn't quite read. Her eyes seemed a bit distorted and glistened, as though they were irritated or had fractions of tears in them.

I headed off to Art Materials.

EMILY

Dr. Burns hadn't delayed me all that long, but I was worried about leaving John standing there outside the office. I needn't have worried - he was delayed, too. We got together and went to look at the posted decisions. The news was good. It could have been better: we could have been allowed to use our costumes. But other than that, it was better than we had hoped. I especially liked the ban on RRs at the setup, rehearsal, and performance.

Some, like Susan, were going to be less happy with the decisions.

We headed urgently to the cafeteria. Even deep in my safe place, I couldn't help notice that The Halls Were Alive, With the Sounds... (and sights, and smells, and so on) of sex.

As we quick walked, I noticed that John was not walking in his usual way. I asked, and he told me about the incidents in PE and the locker room. I expressed my sympathy, and told him I would watch for other attacks. He also warned me that he needed to go to the office after we ate. I said I would go with him. It had to be better than standing around in the hallway or (shudder) outside, waiting for increasingly intrusive RRs.

We got our lunches, and went to our usual table. I was surprised at how much - and what kinds - of food he got. But then I thought about it some more. I knew that some of them worked as comfort foods for him, and that he would need some extra protein for the healing process. Besides, it was his body.

I was well into enjoying my usual, when I saw someone walking toward us. He was older, a senior I think, and athletic looking. I turned on my recorder, and braced for trouble. He walked up to John, and said his name. He was looking only at John, not at the naked girl facing him. I wasn't sure whether I was relieved or insulted.