Chapter 7: Wednesday, School

I'm walking though school, wearing my favorite jeans, blouse, and my hummingbird jacket. My Program week is over, and I'm dressed again! I'm so glad not to have to be naked anymore. But as I walk to class, I notice that the mural on the wall isn't the collection of space pioneers, but instead a collection of Program kids. No Yuri Gagarin, no Alan Shepherd, but Bret is there, and so is Jeness. Neil Armstrong is not to be found, but Neil Collins, from yesterday's dick-grabbing encounter, is. Even Warner von Braun and Gerard O'Neill are missing, but my classmate Tina Jørgenson is there, holding hands with Dan Okelo, the boy she gave her virginity to that week they were both in the Program. They're all there, buck naked.

And so am I. I feel exposed all over again as I walk into Homeroom, and the first thing I see is a life-size poster of myself, doing that roundhouse kick. My crotch is perfectly lit, and I realize that, no matter how many clothes I put on, I'm still naked for everybody else, as long as they like. They've all seen me, and I can never erase that from their memories. I have no modesty, no matter what I wear.

Then Tina tells me that she's back in the atmosphere with drops of Jupiter in her hair, and I ask her why she acts like summer and walks like rain.

I woke up to find that my clock was singing to me. I didn't quite understand what it was that the band, Train, was trying to tell me, but I was actually glad to note that I was naked in bed, and that the dream had been, in fact, just a dream.

Out of bed, trim the bush, into the shower, fix my hair, and down to breakfast with Dad.

Dad didn't drop anything this time. He just smiled and asked, "Saustrich and biscuits OK?"

Saustrich is a brand of sausage made from ostrich meat. Stupid name, good sausage.

"Sounds yummy," I told him, "what kind of jelly?"

"We got orange marmalade, fig preserves, and blackberry jam."

"Blackberry jam sounds good," I agreed, "and a little OJ-pine should make it perfect."

Dad was already cooking it up. He does love to cook, so I'm glad that he's good at it. I noted the apron, which kept him from getting Saustrich popped on his work clothes. That's something I wouldn't dare try nude.

"So," Dad started, "somebody has a birthday Friday."

"I'm sure somebody does," I answered. Why this around-the-bend way of asking me something about my birthday? "Somebody?"

"Well," he continued, "if that somebody happened to also be in the Program, she might want to think over birthday plans. Plans involving being out in public."

He had a point. The plan was to go out for pizza with several friends. Was I prepared to do that nude?

"And if somebody..."

"It's not somebody, Dad; it's me." I forced a smile. "Sorry. But it's me we're talking about, not 'somebody.' The pizza ... I think we still should. I mean, I'm still planning to go to Holly-Kon, and that's even more public."

"You're going to Holly-Kon?" Dad looked pretty impressed.

"Well, yeah. I mean, I've been planning this for eight months, and I've had the ticket for six. It's really kind of Botilda's birthday present to me; she bought mine when she bought hers. We've really been looking forward to it."

Dad chuckled, but then he looked serious. "I think Botilda would understand if you wanted to sit this out. I mean, under the circumstances."

"Oh, she'd understand alright," I assured him, "In fact about the first thing she said to me Monday was that we didn't have to go. I think she mentioned it yesterday, too."

"So how are you going to handle all the people? You'll still be naked, and they ARE going to be looking at you."

"Not only will they be looking, Dad, but in some of those crowds, they won't be able to NOT touch, even if they tried not to."

Dad gave me the hairy eyeball while he finished a biscuit. I wrinkled my nose. I don't mind orange marmalade as an ingredient in certain recipes, but I don't like it just on toast or biscuits.

"You know," he told me when he'd finished, "some of those guys aren't going to be trying not to touch you. In fact, some of them are going to use the crowd for an excuse to grope, without even asking."

I hadn't thought of it like that, and as much as I really, really wanted to tell Dad how wrong he was about this, I knew he was right.

"Well," I started, then ate the last Saustrich patty, "If somebody is touching me without permission, and I say no, and he doesn't stop, I'm justified in twisting some fingers. And Botilda will be there. She's pretty protective of me this week."

Dad gulped down the last of his guarana-apple juice and started gathering dishes. I decided it wouldn't kill me to gather up and wash my own, so I did.

"Thanks," Dad nodded. "So you're really gonna go to Holly-Kon. That's pretty brave."

"Yeah, well," I kind of shrugged, "maybe by Saturday I won't be so scared of the whole thing."

"That's kind of the whole point of the Program," Dad reminded me.

"True," I admitted. "Well, gotta go! See ya tonight."

I mounted up the ol' bike and rode to school. I started riding faster, enjoying the wind on my skin. The warmth of the sunshine and the cooling breeze just felt wonderful. I was actually early to school for the first time this week.

Being early didn't save me from the Reasonable Requests. I granted everything. I turned this way, I turned that way, I bent over and spread wide, I jumped or shimmied, and I had hands all over me. Groping my tits, squeezing my ass, rubbing my pussy. By the time the warning bell rang, I was dripping wet.

I smiled at the hall mural of space pioneers as I stepped into class and took my seat at the front, having just made it in spite of being early to school. I felt glad that there was no roundhouse poster of me, though of course there wouldn't be. All eyes were of course on me. Botilda was grinning like a fiend, and Bret was smirking, but it seemed different than before, I guess because he'd given up the whole vengeance thing.

Ms. Dunlavy had me take the roll, and when she asked "Do you need relief," I didn't hesitate.

"Yes, and I'd like a volunteer."

Several guys and two girls volunteered. I considered Miyuki, who is a real cutie and is openly bi, but decided on Farjahd. He'd done a good job with the titties yesterday, and Bret hadn't volunteered.

"How do you want it?" Farjahd asked.

"As long as it leaves me my technical virginity," and I made sure everybody could hear me, "do what you like."

He grinned. "For what I like, you need to stand up, turn around, and lean over Ms. Dunlavy's desk."

I blinked at him. Did he want to spank me or something? I remembered that this was supposed to be for MY relief, so I went ahead and did it, ready to object if he did anything that wasn't clearly on the road to Mt. Climax.

I heard more than saw him kneel down next to me. He parted my buns and blew softly on my pussy and asshole. I felt him slide a finger into my cunny, and as wet as I was it slipped right in. A couple of strokes, and he pulled it out, but then put it right back in, with another along for the ride. No problem; Botilda has gotten both thumbs into me at times. But then he took them back out, and when he returned them, only one went into the pussy; the other started up my ass. I heard a couple of giggles from the class, and I recognized Botilda's gasp. I was ready to object, but then he started pumping those two wonderful fingers in out in out in out fast and hard.

I'd let Botilda stick a vibe up my ass once, and while it felt kind of nice, it was no substitute for vaginal action. It had never occurred to us to do both holes at the same time.

It had sure occurred to Farjahd, and the boy knew what he was doing. I came quick; only Monday, when I'd been hurting for an orgasm for hours, had I ever cum faster. He didn't even slow down; if anything he speeded up. I came again, just before time was up.

As I staggered back to my chair, I saw Ms. Dunlavy hand Farjahd a wet-wipe, which he used to clean his fingers. Well, I do tend to consider the back door "unclean," as it were. I'd never stuck a finger up Botilda's butt, but I was sure going to now! That double-hole action is a powerful O-maker.

I talked a bit with Bret, with Botilda, but mostly I worked on Tuesday's journal. There was so much that happened yesterday, and there wasn't anything I felt I could leave out. I didn't do much else, and was starting to think that second Homeroom would be the same way.

Miyuki passed me a note, which is allowed in Homeroom. It was written in pink ink with lots of hearts and curly-cues. "I want some of what Jeness got. How much is Reasonable?"

I winked at her, and mouthed the words "after class." She winked back.

You know, when I found out Sunday I was going to be in the Program, I thought a lot about guys touching on me. I had hardly thought at all about girls, though I had seen girls touching Program girls before. I guess I just assumed that boys would be horny for any nekkid chick around, while girls would be either uninterested in a girl, or at least would be more selective.

Then again, if I really am hot, then why wouldn't Miyuki, out there bi girl, want to touch on me? And considering what I'd done to poor Jeness, and what I'd let Cynthia do to me, there was no reason not to allow her as much as either of them. Maybe Dad's right, and I really am bi.

When class was over, Miyuki grabbed my hand before we were even out the door. As soon as we were, she turned to me. Her green eyes were sparkling, her pale skin was just a bit flushed, and she actually started hopping up and down, giggling. I giggled too, and started hopping up and down with her. I noticed her red pigtails bouncing a split second before I realized that my tits were bouncing the same way. Well, so what? I was going to be Requested to do it anyway. It was kind of fun watching the boys heads nod up and down as they stared.

But then Miyuki stopped hopping, so I did too. "How much can I do?" she asked.

A good question. I had a good answer. "As long as I'm not late to English," I assured her, "we can do whatever you like."

She hopped a couple more times, clapping her hands together. What was she, six years old?

"Whoa!" I gasped, as she pulled off her T-shirt off and whipped off the bra. Nope, she wasn't six years old. Her skirt was a long one, and as she practically threw it down to her ankles, I saw that she wasn't wearing panties. Except for her shoes, socks, cell, and the green ribbons that held her pigtails in place, she was as naked as I was.

I didn't have much time to admire the view, though, because she threw her arms around me and fastened her mouth to mine. She was wriggling like a snake, and her hands were rubbing up and down my back. I was shocked by the fierceness of this all, but I quickly recovered and returned the kiss. Miyuki Baker is one good kisser.

This was different than with Jeness, of course. This time, the girl I was kissing was the one pushing things further. She was the one to start sucking my tongue, to start grinding her hips against mine. She was also the one to break the kiss, and to start sucking on my left nip. She had to take a little step back for that, and her hand slipped between my legs. I returned the favor, and heard a couple of male voices saying "yeah!"

This continued until the warning bell rang, and she gave me a little peck on the lips before getting dressed.

"Thanks," she giggled, "I can't WAIT to be in the Program!"

I felt an unRequested slap on the ass. I whirled around to glare at whomever, but it turned out to be Botilda.

"See you at lunch, naked girl," she waved as she headed off to her next class.

I had to hustle to get to English, and had to turn down the two Reasonable Requests I got along the way. I got into class just in time. Mr. Scott followed me with his eyes as I took my seat at the front. Of course, all the teachers had been looking at the naked girl, but this was different.

When the class was full and the final bell rang, he addressed me directly. "Anzu, I'd like you to take the roll, but I also have a Reasonable Request."

I was taken aback by this. Of course, teachers can make Reasonable Requests, and students can grant or refuse them. This is different than when a teacher "makes use" of a Program kid, the way the Warlord did with me Monday. In that case, the student is stuck.

I stood up, and turned to face the class. They all looked very excited. It occurred to me that I'd seen two different Program boys in English this year, but that I was the first girl. Of course, he teaches six hours a day, so he's surely had Program girls in class before. I wondered if he made Reasonable Requests of all of them, or was I somehow special?

"What did you have in mind?" I asked him.

"Nothing so bad," he assured me, "I just want to feel you up while you take roll."

That didn't sound so bad. It's just what every other boy was doing, except I wasn't taking roll at the time.

"If I say no, will you make use of me?"

"No," he smiled, "you can say yes or no as you like. But I really do enjoy touching a lovely naked teenage girl."

"Well how can I say no to that?" I chuckled, giving him the "come here" motion with my index finger.

It was an interesting experience: I would call one name, and Mr. Scott would rub a breast; I'd call another, and he'd squeeze my ass; by the time I was finished he was fingering me, real slow.

"Now," he asked as he stepped away from me, "do you need relief?"

Oh he was slick! Get me all worked up and then ask if I needed relief. And just WHO did I think would volunteer if I said yes? Then again, why not let him? There was no reason being fingered by my English teacher should be any worse than being fingered by a classmate.

But then I thought of my schedule. After English was Music, and after that was Biology. The Warlord.

"I'm pretty worked up," I admitted, "but I have reasons for wanting to wait until next hour."

"Cool," he said, and the class proceeded without further incident. When class was over, I stood next to his desk.

"Offering another turn, Anzu?" he asked me.

"You wish," I chuckled. "Actually, I needed to tell you that I won't have yesterday's journal done until after second Homeroom. There was a lot of stuff that happened yesterday. I can drop it off just before I leave for spoccer practice."

"I run a homeroom class myself," he reminded me, "but as long as you get it to me before that class starts, then that'll be fine."

I told him that was good for me, and left the class. Just before I got out the door, though, I turned around.

"I'd've let you relieve me," I told him, "but if I did, I might need it again by fourth hour, and I have really good reasons for not wanting to take relief in fourth hour. Just wanted to let you know it isn't personal."

"The Warlord?" he asked, and laughed when I looked surprised. "Well it's right there in your journal, and besides, everybody knows about him. Now just move along, and don't worry about John Carter of Mars."

I nodded and stepped into the hall. Neil Collins was there, rock-cock pointing the way. I looked around for Jeness, but no, she wasn't there. Dan and Tina were, holding hands as always. Neil walked right up to me.

"Got a Reasonable Request, Program girl."

"Well let's hear it, Program boy. Maybe I've got one of my own."

There were a few chuckles at that.

"I wonder," he started, "if fucking is too much to ask?"

I try to stay cool, no matter what. I really do. But I face-faulted, and this wasn't the first time this week.

"Um, yes," I told him, "that's a bit much."

He nodded. "So, what can I do?"

"How about," I suggested, "a little mutual hand action? Your hand my pussy, my hand your cock?"

"That sounds Reasonable," he agreed, and again, I could hear the capital letter.

I wondered how to go about this. When I'd pumped Bret two months ago and made him spurt (thus launching him on his Quest for Vengeance ... until he decided never mind), I'd stood in front of him. When Botilda and I jilled each other, we were usually facing each other, but sometimes we were lying next to each other. So standing in front of Neil seemed like a good idea, for all that it might block some of the view. I grabbed that big dick and started stroking, and he got right to work on me. It felt real good, and it was really exciting to feel that cock in my hand. When his breathing got heavy, I just felt kind of, I don't know, powerful. I'd felt the same way with Bret, for all that him coming was an accident.

I was breathing pretty heavy myself. I could feel how wet I was, and I new that everybody was watching us, hoping we'd both cum. I was sure wanting to, of course, but...

You know, when you're kept naked and horny for hours on end, day after day, and you're having more orgasms than ever before, and it's all in front of, well, everybody ... it starts to do funny things to a girl. I actually considered dropping to my knees and sucking him, just because I knew my audience would like that. The thought of him in my mouth, and me sucking, licking, doing all that stuff, was really turning me on. Even the idea of him coming in my mouth was sexy, though usually I think it's pretty gross when a girl does that.

And every guy there would wish he could be next. That's the thought that pushed me over the edge, and I came right there, in front of everybody. I did start to drop to my knees, though it was from weakness. At least, I think it was. I was still jacking Neil, but was pretty slouched when he came, and his stuff hit me right in the navel. I also got some on my hand.

I stood back up and let go, and Neil leaned against the wall. There was a bit of clapping, and he told me, "Thanks, Anza. Now I won't have to ask for relief in the Warlord's class."

I didn't know he had Biology third hour, but I felt kind of proud of myself, helping him out like that. I told him, "You're welcome, and thank you," and headed for Music just as the warning bell rang. I didn't even correct his pronunciation of my name. "Anza" indeed.

I wondered what to do about the cum on me. I had my towel, of course, but if I used that it would be with me all day. I could ask for a wet-wipe in Music, but it was starting to ooze into my pubic hair, and I was holding my hand in a funny way to keep from dripping on the floor. I was glad to be on the Shot when I walked into Ms. Miller's class, because it was now running into my slit, and while I know that the chances of getting pregnant from that are slim, they're not zero.

I walked right up to Ms. Miller and asked, "Hey, can I have a wet wipe or something? A Reasonable Request got a little ... messy."

Her eyes traced me over. "And you just forgot that you're carrying a towel?"

"I didn't want to have to carry a sticky towel around all day."

She rolled her eyes like she couldn't believe such a stupid person was in her class.

"You do realize," she said in that annoying tone teachers get sometimes, "that a soiled towel can be exchanged for a fresh one at the beginning or end of any class?"

I blinked at her. No, I didn't realize that.

"It should have been in the pamphlet," she added.

I blinked some more.

"Use your towel," she sighed, "and I'll get you a wipe and a fresh towel."

So I did, and she did, and I was pretty cleaned up by then. She asked if I needed relief, smirking because she knew the answer.

"No, but thanks," I chirped, letting her know I knew she knew, "a nice boy took care of that in the hall."

"I think you'll find that boys are VERY nice to you this week," she chuckled, and I couldn't help it, I chuckled too. Ms. Miller isn't really that bad, she just gets a bit condescending at times. It never lasts for long.

OK, quick aside here. Yes, it is in the pamphlet. One sentence among many. I missed it. Poorly constructed paragraph. If I'd written that, Mr. Scott would dock my grade for it. So sue me.

As was the case in most classes, I was the star. The Program kid always is. I was asked to improvise something using several of the techniques I'd learned.

You can look up frame drums if you like. They aren't some 22^nd Century invention, but were in fact used by ancient Persians, Hebrews, Egyptians, and so on. Being so old, they have a lot of mystical and spiritual associations. I like the frame drum because it is a simple instrument which gives a surprising range of sound and allows one person to play complex polyrhythms on a single drum.

I sat facing the class and placed the drum on my left knee. I suddenly realized that this hid one breast from view, but it couldn't be helped. I placed my hands at the nine and twelve o'clock positions (and yes, I know why they're called that, even though nobody uses analog clocks anymore) and prepared to play whatever came into my head.

I thumped it about halfway towards the center with my right thumb. I made sure that my thumb bounced off of the drumhead, rather than damping the sound. This is called "doum," and that's the sort of sound it makes: "DOOM." This stroke is traditionally associated with the second chakra, between navel and groin, with the color orange, and with the classical element of water.

Then I tapped it with my ring finger near the edge, again making sure my finger bounced. This is called "tak" and makes a sharper, higher sound with a lot of resonance. This is associated with the third chakra, at the solar plexus, the color yellow, and with the classical element of fire. I followed this with another tak and a ka.

Ka is a stroke near the center made with four fingers of the right hand, and the fingers don't bounce but rather stay in contact with the drumhead, damping out any resonance. This is the elemental earth stroke, associated with the first chakra at the base of the spine and the color red.

I played that basic rhythm several times: doum-tak-tak-ka, doum-tak-tak-ka, doum-tak-tak-ka. This is pretty basic, and so after three run-throughs I added a stroke where I brush my fingertips over the drumhead, and that makes exactly the sound you think it would. This is associated with air, green, and the fourth chakra, the heart. I also sped it up a bit: doum-taktak-ka, doum-taktak-ka, doum-taktak-ka-brushbrushbrush; doum-taktak-ka, doum-taktak-ka, doum-taktak-ka-brushbrushbrush.

After running through that seven times, I licked my right ring fingertip and ran it over the drumhead: mwaaaaaahhmmmm, mwaaaaaahhmmmm. This isn't traditionally associated with any element or chakra, but recently people have come to consider this stroke to represent "space" and the seventh chakra, at the top of the head, and with the color black, though traditionally the seventh chakra is associated with violet.

I added some complexity after that, and I won't try to transcribe it. I wanted to add some of the snap rolls, but I'm not very good at them. Hey, I only started this year, and only have music twice a week. I did rap on the side with my knuckles a few times, but the rest were all doum, tak, brush, and ka. After two or three minutes, I decided to end with the space stroke, but instead of wetting my fingertip with my tongue, I dipped it between my legs.

THAT took everybody by surprise! There were gasps, followed by laughter. It worked, though.

Mmwwaaaaaahhmmm, mmwwwaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhmmm, mwaahhm, mmmwwaaaaaaahhhhhhhhmmmmm.

Then I stood up, took a bow, and returned to my seat. I received a lot of applause, but I have to wonder how much of that was because of my playing and how much of it was because of the nudity and pussy-dipping. The class proceeded normally from then.