Chapter 2

"So where've you been keeping yourself, Mr. Brain?" Elrod asked. He was a lanky guy with tattoos on his arms and scars on his knuckles. "Ain't seen you around much."

"Homework," Jared said. "School's been a bear."

"Homework is for dopes," Elrod said. "They should be able to teach you everything you need to know during school. A guy's free time belongs to him."

"Most of my homework is on the internet," Jared said.

Elrod relaxed. "That's different. Do they let you have unlimited access at school?"

"Anything I want to look at."

"Including sexy babes? There are some fuck sites that I can't get at 'cause my god-damned old man put a fucking filter on my computer."

"Same here," a couple of the other guys said, nodding.

"Do you think you could download stuff from some of those sites?" Elrod asked.

"They don't let us take anything out of the computer room," Jared said. That wasn't exactly true, but he knew he had to nip this at the beginning, or the guys would expect him to bring porn home everyday. He wasn't sure how he could download anything when he was in the Construct, and besides, who wanted to look at pictures of girls fucking when he had all of that pussy available?

"Fucking assholes," Elrod muttered, "tellin' us what we can and can't look at. It ain't fair. This is a fucking free country!" He scowled at the world in general before tilting his head and looking at Jared. "What're you studyin' that takes up your time?"

"Bunch of history stuff," Jared said. He knew Elrod liked history. It was one of the few subjects he paid attention to, mostly because he had some famous ancestor during the Civil War. "Most of it's about the Revolution."

"Well ... that can be interesting, I guess. At least it isn't that big brain crap like math and physics. That's for nerdy little twerps."

"Yesterday I was reading about some of the Founding Fathers," Jared said in the pause that followed.

"Is it true they were fucking their slaves left and right?" Niggy asked. He was a boy from somewhere in Kentucky. His parents had moved to Richmond only a couple of years before, and he was probably the one guy in the group who had any experience with a girl. Rumor had it that it was probably his sister or cousin, but then that's what everyone said about people from that part of the country.

"The story is that Thomas Jefferson was doing it with one of his slaves," Jared said. "The genealogy people think they had several kids."

"Maybe he was," Elrod said, "or maybe her descendants think it's just a way of getting money."

"I saw a painting of her," Niggy said. "I wouldn't have minded slipping my meat into her."

The others began questioning Niggy about the details. He tried to describe her looks, and then find a girl passing them who looked like her.

Jared listened for a bit, contributing enough to make sure everyone knew he hadn't tuned out. Finally, though, they had to leave. It was dinner time, and it was the one part of the day nobody wanted to miss.

He returned to his Dad's house. It was odd thinking of it that way, but in the last few months he had. He wondered if he'd call it home if his parents were still married. They'd split up when he was 2. His aunt said it was just after his sister had been borne. He had an old picture of his mother, so he wasn't even sure what she looked like. He knew nothing about her except that she lived in Florida in some town near St. Petersburg.

He ate mechanically, watched TV for a few minutes, and then went to his room to study. He hadn't told Elrod and the others that they were studying the French Revolution. Right now he was working on a paper about how the center of power had shifted from the Assembly to the Committee of Public Safety, and how Robespierre had managed to seize power through his radicalism and personal attacks on his opponent, eliminating any of them that he thought was a threat.

It was what the book called 'the need to personally destroy one's opponents.' He wondered what it was in the man that drove him to that idea. When he thought about it, he couldn't help but reflect on the way modern politics had changed. Were they headed in that direction? He wasn't sure, but when he looked at his class schedule he saw they were supposed to study the Optimate Movement in the Roman Republic next.

The next morning he took the bus downtown to the offices of the Construct. He checked in and was shown to the same room he'd used before. It was the same as it had been for the last two week: a darkened, quiet room, the helmet that came down over his eyes, the contacts that felt cool at first, but warmed up, and the blanket over his legs.

The process of entering the Construct was the same. He pushed a button on the arm rest beside him. It felt like he was falling asleep, and...

... he was on the school bus, just like before. The bus pulled to a stop outside the school. As always, it was just before dawn. The sky was blue with a few clouds lit by the rising sun. It was cool, as you'd expect at this time of the morning; girls were wearing sweaters, and guys were wearing light jackets or long-sleeved shirts.

Cynthia was waiting for him by the lockers. "Morning!" she said brightly.

"Morning, yourself. How are you today?" He started on the buttons of his shirt.

"Not bad," she said. She pulled off her top and turned around so he could unfasten her bra. When she turned back to him, her nipples were stiff. "And yourself?"

"Pretty good."

They finished undressing, and hurried to get a couch. Cynthia was giggling when they finished.

"What's so funny?"

"I just feel so good this morning," she replied. After a bit she sighed. "Today is the last day of your Orientation. It's time you learned the one other lesson about having sex here at the school."

"The one other lesson?"

"That you can have it with anybody." She looked over her shoulder at another girl. "Shannon? Want to get out of Homeroom this morning?"

"I guess," the girl said. She had dark red hair, moderately-sized tits, and long legs. "What do you need?"

"I think you'll like what he has."

Shannon eyed his cock. "That looks fun."

"I'll leave you two to get acquainted," Cynthia said. "I'll tell the teacher." She patted Jared on the shoulder. "I'll see you after History. We'll do some talking."

"What did you have in mind?" Jared asked Shannon as Cynthia left.

"Well, for starters..." Shannon bent over and began licking his cock. It stirred and began to fill out. "Um, I think I'm going to like getting to know you."

He fondled her tits—just as soft as Cynthia's, though not as big—and she jumped slightly when he pinched her nipples with his lips. He slid his other hand between her legs. She opened them further, and then shifted so she was lying next to him.

"Any time you're ready," she murmured.

He teased her by rubbing his cock all over her tummy. She took it and pressed him downward into her cleft. When he felt her opening he pressed forward, sliding half his length into her. She crooned something wordless, a smile all across her face.

He had a thought, and chuckled.

"What's so funny?" she asked.

"We haven't been introduced, and yet here we are."

She laughed softly, her channel squeezing him. "Yeah, we should be introduced." She held out her hand. "I'm Shannon McLean."

He shook her hand. "I'm Jared Shelbourne." They both laughed.

"This seems silly," she said. "You've got your cock in me, and here we are, shaking hands."

He braced himself over her. "It feels better than a handshake."

"It'd feel even better with more of it in me."

He took the hint, drew back and pushed again, sliding through her hot, wet tightness until he felt his balls nudge her bottom. This was one of those things about sex he hadn't realized but had come to enjoy: that indescribable feeling of being so deep in a girl. He couldn't really put it in words, either; he knew Elrod and the others wouldn't even try to understand. It was more than the closeness, or the way a girl's pussy felt around his cock. He was in her body—mentally he pictured his cock filling all of her insides—and the thought of it made his head spin a little.

He began to move, and Shannon ran her hands around him, caressing his shoulders and back, and hitching up at him with her middle. But unlike Cynthia, she twisted each time she did so, which made each thrust seem different, and made her pussy feel tighter.

"Keep that up," he said after a few minutes, "and I'm gonna come."

"That's the idea." She smiled, but her eyes went vacant and she lifted her chin. He kissed her beneath the ear, and she arched up into him. Her breathing caught, and her pussy clamped down on him.

That was it. Everything peaked in an incredible feeling, and he came, pulsing his come into her in one wave after another.

He relaxed a little, and when she pulled him down on her, they snuggled. She made a disappointed noise when he finally slipped out of her.

"It's too bad it had to leave," she murmured, smiling at him from only inches away. "I liked it where it was."

"Me too."

She turned her head, looking at something. "I suppose we should go clean up."

"You'll have to help me. Two comes that quickly kind of took away my strength."

She laughed and squirmed out from under him. She helped him up, and they made their way to the nearest bathroom. She responded when he ran his hands over her body, and gasped when he began rubbing her clit. He brought her off just the way Cynthia had taught him, running his hand up to squeeze her tits when he felt her spasms.

She kissed him wildly when she regained her breath. "Oh God, I so don't want to go to class! I want to take you somewhere and fuck your brains out."

"It'll have to wait until later. See?" His cock had filled out a bit, but it wasn't stiff. "It's not ready yet."

"It's too bad guys can't have multiple climaxes like a girl can," she said in a disappointed tone.

"Too bad we can't recover as quickly, either."

She laughed. "I could go for that. C'mon, we've got to get dried off. We have about 10 minutes to make it to class."

Halfway through History the teacher—Mr. Hathaway—leaned back on the desk. "What did Robespierre believe in?" he asked. "Other than himself. Ms. Sibley?"

"As far as I can tell, nothing," Janet Sibley said.

"And yet people have this need to believe in something," Mr. Hathaway said. "In some cases, as we've seen in recent years, they believe in Power. They worship it, and do everything they can to attain and keep it. Others, and here I think Robespierre is an example, believe in what they're doing to the exclusion of everything else. Thus anyone who gets in their way is a heretic, a non-believer.

Traditionally, religion has had only one solution for heretics, and that is to kill them. They justify this by all sorts of silly logic, but in the end they kill their opponents. As you can imagine, this is subject to abuse, especially when power is vested in a small clique."

"Wasn't Robespierre executed?" Jared asked.

"He was guillotined face up so he could see the blade descending," Mr. Hathaway said. "A clique of the Committee of Public Safety seized power, held a brief mock trial, and executed Robespierre as soon as they could, which was the next day.

"You see this in other cases like it. Josef Stalin died in 1953. Shortly thereafter the former head of the secret police, Lavrenti Beria, was arrested. We have three accounts of what happened: first, Beria was shot on the spot; second, he was taken into a nearby room or basement and shot; and third, he was taken to a military base where, after an investigation lasting several months, he was tried and shot. I'll leave it to you which scenario was the one that actually played out. Just remember that the conspirators were afraid of Beria, and knew that if they didn't dethrone the man, he was going to kill them."

"And trials always go better if the condemned is executed first," a boy added. The room broke up in laughter.

After class Cynthia sought him out. "Just for talk," she said.

"Good, I'm not sure I could get it up again for a couple of hours. Well," he amended, "I could probably get it up, but it wouldn't do me any good."

Cynthia nodded sympathetically. "I know you have questions about the school. This is when you're supposed to ask them. And then Orientation will be officially over."

"Will we still have a chance to ... you know."

"I don't see why not. Our lockers are side by side, and you can certainly get my motor running in the morning."

"It's just that you want a little variety during the day," he said, sensing what she hadn't said.

"Well ... so do you. How was Shannon?"

"I read in a book that when you're actually doing it, all pussies feel the same. I'm not sure if that's true."

"That's because when we're balling it isn't just the girl's pussy that's involved," Cynthia said. "It's her whole body."

He waited until they were settled on a chair. She straddled his lap, her tits temptingly close to his mouth. He put his hands on her waist and leaned back so he could see her eyes.

"What kind of questions should I be asking?"

"Oh, why all of the sex all of the time, that's always a good one. Though you're a guy, so you're probably just saying 'Yeah, let's do it!'"

"Not exactly, but the thought crossed my mind."

"But you wouldn't be here if you weren't quick on the uptake and smarter than average."

"Smarter than average? What gives you that idea?"

"You're keeping up in class."

"It's only been a week days."

"Still, it's obvious. If you graphed everyone in school's IQ, you'd find all of the kids here to the right of about 115 or 120 on a distribution curve."