Chapter 10: Thursday, Evening

Botilda met me at the bike racks, and we started for Lagrange Dojo. There was an uncomfortable silence. I didn't want to say anything to set her off, and she ... well, only she knows. Finally, however, she spoke.

"I'm trying to be the supportive best friend," she started, "and I'm trying to understand. Really I am."

I smiled, nodded, and brushed her hand with mine. I didn't think I should speak yet, because it was clear she wasn't finished.

She heaved a huge sigh. "It was easy enough Monday and Tuesday. You were embarrassed out of your mind and dealing the best you could. I get that; that's easy. Like you said: when I had that sore ankle and the cut on my forehead, I didn't throw in the towel. I fought the match as best I could, even when I knew I was losing. But Lucy had to BEAT me; I didn't just give it to her. So I get it."

She looked at me, and I nodded again.

"And you were trying to make sure everybody knew that it hadn't gotten the best of you," she continued. "I get that too. And then all your talk about how the Program is a good thing, and you believe in it, and you want to support it. Now that I do NOT understand, but I can understand that you'd be willing to put up with a lot for a cause you believe in, however noodle-brained that cause is."

I didn't care for "noodle-brained," but I just nodded. We could have that argument another time.

Another sigh. "Even yesterday, when you were smiling and having fun, well, I thought maybe it isn't so bad after you get used to it, and orgasms are nice, and well..."

She stopped walking. "Actually, I didn't really get yesterday. It's like it hardly bothered you. But still, you were getting through it, maybe making the best of a bad situation. But today..."

She turned to look me in the eye. "You are loving this, F.L. LOVING it! Today you're not fighting with a sore ankle. Today you're kicking ass, winning trophies, you're a movie star and you just ate chocolate."

I didn't say anything, because I hadn't thought of it like that. I mean yeah, I'd adjusted to being naked and I was having fun with the Program. But loving it? Kicking ass and eating chocolate?

But I couldn't deny it. I was wanting to do more, experience more. I was so wanting to have the green light for doing anything and everything tomorrow that I had asked to Bret to pop me tonight instead of on my birthday. Truth is, I was loving it. Still embarrassed from time to time, but now when I did something embarrassing, it was like a challenge met.

Botilda put her hand on my shoulder. "Monday you told me that if Takahashi told you you could put your clothes back on, you'd have a hard time saying no. Next Monday you're going to go into his office and Takahashi's gonna give you your clothes and tell you to get dressed. If he told you you could have another week if you wanted it, would you?"

"Would I wha ... Another week in the Program?! Thank you no!"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, 'Tilda, I'm sure."

There wasn't time for this right now. Other students were walking past us to enter the dojo.

"Look, we're here now, and you at least have to get into uniform. We'll talk after training."

"We will," she nodded.

Lagrange-sensei again had me step to the front, and again had me turn around. The class was instructed to do their staring now, and they did. It didn't bother me, like it had Tuesday. Actually, it's kind of nice to be the center of attention sometimes.

We then went outside and caught a lift to the altitude where one's weight is one tenth of what it would be at the equator (or on Earth). I knew there was going to be sparring, and I wondered how Lagrange-sensei would deal with my nudity. If she had me be her sparring partner exclusively, it would be a real departure from normal practice. The Program is so new here; it just hadn't come up before.

As soon as we got to the 0.1 G training center, she started pairing us up. I was paired with her.

"As you know," she told us, "I ordinarily do this randomly. Today I did that ahead of time, and selected Anzu for myself in order to avoid initial distraction. However," she added, "we are going to switch around like we always do. The fact that each of you will have the opportunity to square off against a nude opponent will give you a rare chance: a way to test your ability to fight in a situation you were never trained for. Will you be so distracted that Anzu stomps you easily? Or will she be so self-conscious of her nudity that anyone can beat her?"

I had to grin at that. Not. A. Chance.

"Oh, one more thing," she added. "If any of you are thinking that this is a golden opportunity to grope Anzu, well, don't be surprised if she's punching while you're groping. If you manage to put her in a hold or some such, don't take advantage of her helplessness to molest her. If you do, you'll be out of your own clothes. I checked, and yes, I can do that. Not all Program rules apply here, but that one does."

Now that was interesting. I knew of course that harassing a Program kid in school was generally punished by throwing the harasser into the Program. Not that having to be naked seemed like much of a punishment to me anymore, but last week it would've been enough to scare me into being an angel. I imagine it scared all my sparring partners today.

And just to make it clear how perverted I was becoming, I actually considered asking Lagrange-sensei to lift that ban, and telling her that if somebody managed to pin me and wanted to fondle that I didn't mind, and that it might be a good motivator to encourage that person to fight well.

I didn't suggest any such thing, of course. That would disrespectful of my sensei, and besides, what was wrong with me? To be touched because somebody had asked and I said yes was one thing, but to be held helpless and groped with any "no" from me being pointless? Did I really want that?

No ... and yes. I only wanted it if I could be sure it would be safe. I'd do it with Botilda some time in private.

We put on the small amount of safety gear we used for this sort of practice. When we did full-contact we wore a lot more, but here we were pulling our punches, kicks, and what not. So all the parts I was scared to show last week were still on glorious display, and I grinned as I thought of how much Steve would like today's pictures. He'd especially like the warm-ups and stretches we did next.

We squared off, me facing my sensei. Of course I couldn't beat her, but I'd be judged by how well I did, and I'd learn new things. I learned some time ago not to be scared of losing a fight, even a real one. Getting your ass kicked isn't any fun, but you always come out of it a bit tougher than before.

One thing I have to say right off the bat: she wasn't distracted by my nudity. No sooner had we begun than she was three metres over my head, coming down at me upside-down. I leapt back and up, and she was right after me. I sprang for the ceiling, ten metres high, but she grabbed my foot and, while I had the momentum to pull her off the floor, we only made it a couple of metres up. By the time I hit the floor, falling in slow motion the way you do in low-G, she was atop me and had landed two blows to my head, though I had managed to block two others. But hitting the floor unbalanced me, and she obeyed her own no-fondling rule, which is good, because there wasn't a lot I could've done about it. She stepped away from me, extended her hand, and pulled me to my feet.

"Not bad," she told me, "A lot of my students sort of freak out in that situation and just freeze. You managed to block half the punches. But next time, consider throwing one of your own."

I bowed. This is what generally happened when I sparred with her. That's why she's the sensei.

She turned to the rest of the class. "HALT!"

Everybody immediately stopped what they were doing, the only delay being that some people had to fall back to the ground, and slowly at that.

"Switch up. Robert Anson, you're with me. Ashneel Frederickson, you're with Fiora Jefferson. Nabeela Jones, you're with Anzu James. Aloiki Hinler..."

One after another, I faced each of my fourteen colleagues. I beat eleven, which is better than I usually do in tenth-G. Some of them were obviously distracted by tits in their faces or the fact that when they grabbed me for a throw they'd get a handful of bare butt. None tried to molest me while I was helpless, though Aloiki did seem to concentrate on my tits, ass, and pussy every time we grappled.

I clobbered him, which is unusual, because he usually beats me. He's very good, but I guess the blood just wasn't getting to the ol' brain.

The most interesting match was with Botilda. It usually is, as we're evenly matched and...

OK, look. Botilda is my best friend and, as you know, we're lovers. We don't call ourselves that, but that's what we are. We have many interests in common, and usually have lots of fun together (even out of bed). I would take a bullet for her, and I know she'd take one for me.

And when we spar, we really go at it. I have gotten more bruises, scrapes, and busted lips from that girl than probably the rest of my sparring partners put together, and the only time she ever had to leave class early and see the doctor, it was from a beating I'd given her. Remember, her toe is why I don't have a hymen.

She managed to tap me on the side of the head with one hand, and I'd landed a kick to her belly. After all this leaping about and stuff, my legs were starting to feel a bit wobbly again, and when I went to make a leap and one leg suddenly refused to help, she saw her chance and moved in. We were both about two metres off the floor and moving east when I brought up a forearm to protect myself from what I thought was an attack to the head.

WHACK! WHACK! across both tits. Now, I've taken it in the ta-tas before, but this was the first time I'd been deliberately struck in my unprotected boobs, and it hurt! I clapped one hand over them as she seemed to be trying for another, but instead she grasped my ankle with her own legs and, landing just ahead of me in a hand-stand, tried for a flip. I managed to get loose before she could apply sufficient leverage. I hit the floor a half-metre away from her. I stumbled a bit on landing, having to flail my legs far apart to keep my balance. I was actually in a deep crouch, like Spider-Man or something, with one hand on the floor.

Botilda's knee was streaking down towards my head; I raised both hands to protect myself. I guess the temptation was too much for her, because I suddenly felt the edge of her open hand crack me right between the legs, and she didn't seem to be pulling this chop.

To any guys reading this, I want to tell you something: it hurts us too. I mean think about it: exactly what part of the body does it feel GOOD to get hit in? But the pussy; there's a lot of tender nerve endings right over hard bone. I usually take whatever blows I have to with little more than an occasional grunt, but I cried out loud at this. If it hadn't been for the padded glove she was wearing, I'd've been out of the fight altogether. My legs, already wobbly and stretched unnaturally far apart, gave out and I collapsed backward.

Like a flash she was on top of me, trying to pin me. I got a tap on her face, and she got one on mine. As we shuffled around, I managed to get one foot on her belly. In the low gravity it was an easy enough thing to lift her off the ground, and I prepared to throw her a good fifteen metres behind me. But before I got her lifted high enough, she brought those long, gorgeous legs into play.

WHACK! directly in the crotch AGAIN! The pads we wore strapped to our feet and insteps made things less hurtful than they might have, but even with that I shrieked and my throw fell apart. Botilda landed gently not more than one metre past my head, and before I knew it she had me in a joint lock. She brought her face close to mine.

"If I wasn't afraid of getting stripped myself," she hissed, "I'd give your sore cunt such a diddlin' that you'd be cumming in front of the whole dojo!"

I was shocked. I'd never heard Botilda use the word "cunt" before, and in fact I knew she hated it.

"HALT!"

We all separated and stood to face Lagrange-sensei. I rose to my feet a bit slowly, and winced.

"Botilda," the sensei asked, "you didn't touch Anzu in any inappropriate way, did you?"

"No sensei. It was all sparring."

The sensei turned to me. "Anzu?"

I briefly wondered how "appropriate" whacking my poor kitty like that was, but I had to admit, it was fighting, not fondling.

"Nothing inappropriate," I granted, "just a bit rough."

Lagrange-sensei shook her head. "You two are always rough with each other. Anybody who only knew you from sparring would think you hated each other."

Truth, that. They'd be wrong, but what else could they think?

I had two more bouts after that, and both guys tried to do a little cuntbusting of their own. Fortunately they were also a bit hesitant about it, and I was able to spare myself further pudendular pain (and yes, I made up "pudendular," but "pudenda" is a real word). Sinjun Smyth gave it up after I tapped his groin. I didn't hurt him, but it did suggest that whatever he could do to my crotch, I could do to his, and that was enough.

When we were all done, Lagrange-sensei again called me forward.

"I think I should take a look and make sure nothing's damaged," she told me. "We can go into my office for a little privacy, if you like."

Privacy? Vaginal privacy, during my Program week?

"Nah," I assured her, "We can do it right here. I mean, it isn't like they haven't already seen."

She raised one eyebrow at that, so I added, "You can even put it on the website, if you like."

She chuckled, and then shrugged. "Whatever you think is best." She raised her voice. "Everybody, either hit the showers or gather round. And Botilda," she added, "you did the striking, so you get the cam and record this."

I giggled as not one person headed for the showers, but instead formed a rough circle and leaned forward. Lagrange-sensei had my lie down, bend my knees, and spread wide. The group leaned in a bit more, and Botilda made sure to get every detail. I blushed a little, and had the sudden crazy thought that, if the camera were infra-red, my blush would be obvious. My sensei looked closely, and even poked with her finger a couple of times.

"How does that feel?"

"Like a Reasonable Request," I chuckled. Several others laughed as well.

She even spread me open, sliding one finger in about three centimetres. "Any soreness?"

"A little," I admitted.

She pulled her finger out and stood back up, so I stood too.

"The area will be a bit tender for an hour or two," she said, wiping her finger on her uniform. "Just don't let anything else happen to it, and you should be fine. An ice pack will help, if you think you can stand it. If you have any pain after tonight, or if you have any bleeding or discharge, see a doctor. I'm only trained a little, and any real problem needs a real doctor."

Tender for an hour or two. Bret was supposed to be taking my virginity in less than an hour.

"Will I be able to..." I looked around at my admiring audience, and suddenly I was embarrassed for real. I wished I had taken her up on her offer of privacy, but it just didn't seem right to hide my parts during my Program week. Well, the question had to be asked, so I asked it.

"Will I be able to have ... sex ... tonight? I've never done it before, but..." I covered my face with my hands as every student laughed.

Lagrange-sensei came to my rescue. "Laugh if you like, but it's a good question, so listen up." She winked at me. "Well of course you CAN have sex, but if you want it to be really GOOD sex, you should wait for a few hours. You weren't hit that hard, like the kick that ripped your hymen a couple years back."

"Then again..." She cocked her head to the side. "You know, you won't have the pain that some girls do their first time, and believe it or not some girls find that important. So your tenderness could substitute. If you want to be able to honestly say that it hurt your first time, then as soon as you leave, go grab whoever the lucky guy is and tell him, 'Do me NOW!'"

That got a lot more laughs, but we were laughing with Lagrange-sensei, not at me, and that was a lot easier to take. Some were still chuckling as we hit the showers.

Botilda made a point of showering next to me.

"I am so sorry, F.L." she told me, "I just got caught up in sparring and I didn't even think about any sex plans."

"Tell you what," I suggested as I let some cool water run down my body and between my legs, "if I'm unable to perform tonight, you have sex with him instead."

"I ... I ... I ... I..."

"Just kidding," I reassured her. "Look, I'll be fine. I'll put some ice on it, ask him to stay for dinner, and have him do me after desert and Steve, instead of before."

"That should be good enough," she granted, "but be sure to let it warm back up first. Guys like a bit of heat."

"Oh like you would know!"

Before long, we were washed, dried, and dressed. Well, Botilda was; I was merely washed and dried.

"You sure you're OK?" she asked for about the third time as we walked to her place. For about the third time I assured her that I was. And I was, too. She hadn't hit me as hard as she could, and she had been wearing pads. I still felt it, but it wasn't a horrid agony, just a minor soreness.

"Anzu," she started just before we got within eyesight of her place, "I don't want to start a big argument, but can you please admit that you are loving the Program?"

"I am," I nodded, "but it's not what you think. You see, I'm stuck with it. Like it or not, I have to do this. So I might as well have fun with it. You get me?"

Botilda shook her head.

"OK, OK," I tried again, "I've gotten to the point that being naked doesn't bother me anymore. Well, I still get embarrassed whenever somebody makes a fuss about it, but I don't mind being embarrassed as much as I did. Like you said, I got used to it."

She blinked at me. I tried to find some way to explain it, but couldn't think of anything just right. I tried to think of something else to compare it to.

"It's like..." What? Think, Anzu, think! "It's like Irving Thalberg."

"IRVING THALBERG?!?"

Yeah, it didn't make much sense to me either. But I moved on.

"Yeah," I nodded. "When he was a kid, he was very sick and bed-ridden much of the time. But instead of just feeling sorry for himself, he had his mother..."

"He had his mother bring him a ton of books," Botilda interrupted, "and he read his ass off, becoming educated beyond his formal schooling, mastering story structure and becoming one of the first of the great Hollywood moguls. I know as much about Irving Thalberg as you do, naked girl!"

"Right, right," I pressed, "and he didn't LIKE being sick. If somebody had said 'hey Irving, you wanna be sick for another month this time?' I'm sure he would have said no. But as long as he had to be sick like it or not, he FOUND something to like about it. I mean think about it: he wouldn't've been able to do all that reading if he'd been healthy. He'd've been doing chores and going to school. So he took the one good thing about being bed-ridden and ran with it. And that's what I'm doing."

By this time we were walking up to her place. Bret was already there, and his eyes devoured me like he was seeing my body for the first time, which I thought was a bit strange since he'd been seeing and touching me all week.

"I think I get it," Botilda was telling me as we arrived. "You've taken choice and flipped it over."

I smiled at Bret. "Hi, handsome." Then I turned to Botilda. "I've what?"

"When you're not in the Program, the dress code tells you 'you can show this much, but no more, ' but you can always show less. I mean, um, OK your skirt has to come down half way to your knees, but you can have it come all the way to your knees if you want. All the way to your ankles. So now you have to show everything. It's like, 'this much and no less, ' so you're doing MORE than required. You still have some control that way."

I blinked at her. I looked at Bret, and he was nodding. What?

"OK, OK," she went on, "so when somebody says 'let me see your pussy' the rules say you have to. So you can open your legs a bit and be in compliance, or you can lay down, bend your knees, splay open just as much as you can and tell him, 'look all you want and hey, why don't I spread it open so you can see the pink parts.' See, doing more than required."

I blinked at her a bit more. Bret was smiling and nodding like one of those bobble head dolls.

"And," she continued, "when somebody asks 'can I touch your boob, ' well technically you can say no, but then you're a wuss, so instead of just saying yes you say 'sure, and why don't you go ahead and suck the nipple while you're at it.' You're still in control. You've found a way to show some defiance without being defiant. I gotta respect that."

What was scaring me was that this was starting to make sense.

"And then tomorrow," she was getting excited, "you're wanting to go all out. If somebody asks to touch your kitty, you'll ask them to finger you. If Scott suggests another blow job, you'll fuck his brains out in class. If somebody volunteers to give you relief, you'll say 'sure, but only if I can jerk you too.' If a girl wants to kiss you, you'll offer to eat her."

My eyes widened until they were almost as big as hers. That's EXACTLY what I had in mind!

She was almost hopping now in her excitement. "This is exactly what the other Program kids have done! I always wondered why they didn't tone it down on Fridays, but now I get it. And I've got your back, F.L. You go for it. You be 'all Girl Who, ' like you said at lunch. I'm with you. Make it a birthday to remember. I'm behind you a hundred, a thousand percent."

I still wasn't sure she understood as much as she thought she did, but I wasn't about to talk her out of taking my side. And besides, I think she might have been right. Damn.

She and Bret talked a minute or two, mostly her repeating what she'd just told me. Not sure why, since he'd heard every word of it. Well, I guess he hadn't heard the Irving Thalberg part. And he was nodding and saying "yeah," "sure," "yes," "of course" all the while. Wow.

After a bit, Bret and I left for my place.

"So long, you two," Botilda smirked as we left. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do. Well, OK, one thing that I wouldn't do."

We were stepping up to my door when he turned to me with a smirk of his own.