Chapter 3

On Tuesday morning after we disrobed and I dropped Megan off at her homeroom class, I headed to the office to finally take care of The Adamson Problem.

Five minutes after entering Principal Allen's office, the intercom on Adamson's desk chirped. When she entered Allen's office it was to be confronted by a grim faced administrator, saying, "Have a seat."

Since I was standing on the far side of Mr. Allen's desk and the only open seat was a single straight back chair with an open box and pamphlet, I think Miss. Adamson got the point right away.

"What's this!" she squeaked out.

"Please, have a seat Ellen and I'll explain," stated Mr. Allen.

As Principal Allen was about to begin, I spouted out, "May I, Sir?"

"Certainly Thad, be my guest. Ellen, please listen very carefully to this young man."

"Miss. Adamson, I realize that the school board has you tucked away in one of the most boring jobs imaginable. However, your boredom levels are also no excuse for adding to the trauma level that Program Participants will be subject to. On Monday morning when I reported to this office, I got the distinct impression that you were dancing for joy over my clueless predicament. I gathered that impression from one glimpse of your grinning face. Separately, there is also the issue of your negligence in passing on requested information in a timely manner."

Gathering my thoughts, I said, "We couldn't come up with a more direct method to make you aware of how Participants will be feeling, than to subject you to that same level of participation. So, for the remainder of this week you will be subject to Program Participant rules ... all of them."

After a few seconds for this bombshell to settle in, I asked, "How do you feel, right this minute?"

"Terrified," returned the whispered response.

"Correct. That is exactly how ninety nine percent of the students that exit this office will be feeling too," I stated.

I then added softly, "Can you begin to see how your Cheshire Grin could be seen as adding to the trauma level?"

"Ellen," Mr. Allen broke in, "these kids are going to be scared out of their minds when they come out of this office. Some will be reduced to near catatonic, gibbering idiots and we can't afford to heap more stress on them. Truthfully, if our federal funding weren't linked to implementing this Program, I'd tell the feds to go piss up a tree. Because even though this Program might have some socially redeeming benefits show up eventually; the trauma levels we have to subject these children to, is borderline criminal."

"I want you, to be the kindest face they have ever seen in their lives. When they come out of here, they're going to need it desperately. But I need you to understand this down in the depths of your soul."

Then Mr. Allen morphed back into Administrator mode as he said, "You may disrobe now and return to your station. You'll be able to pick up your clothing outside the front door after school hours."

The next five minutes was the longest time period I've ever had to sit through in my entire life. No, there was absolutely nothing sexy or erotic about watching a human being be reduced to a sobbing pile of protoplasm.

When a still weeping Miss. Adamson left his office, Allen said, "God, please don't ever let me have to do that again."

All I could add was a heartfelt, "Amen. I sure hope that works, Sir."

When I met Megan outside her Homeroom door, she took one look at my face and asked, "Oh my God, what happened? Are your folks OK?"

"Oh Meg, I had to do something horrible and all I can hope for, is that it will do what I intended," I sobbed, "I destroyed a human being today."

"What? How?" she blurted out.

"Remember, Miss. Adamson and her grin?" I said, "Well, she's not grinning now. She's in the Program and subject to all its rules."

"Oh my," My Love whispered. Then she took me in her arms and rested my head on her breast as she murmured, "You had to do it, baby. It'll work out. I trust your heart."

Her love did help, but it still took a full day to come anywhere near my normal state of being.

The rest of that week went about the same. Megan's celebrity status never wore off and I don't recall her ever having to do a Reasonable Request, well, except for the one she initiated on Thursday morning.

She spotted a freshman boy moving through the halls after we had stripped out front, along with Miss. Adamson, who looked like she was acclimating finally.

She got the funniest look on her face and whispered at me, "Honey, I have to do this, OK?" I just nodded back. I mean, after all, she could do anything she wanted as far as I was concerned.

She yelled out, "Ron, hey, Ron Sheppard!" As the kid looked around and finally spotted her, his eyes almost popped out of his head. From then on, I don't think he saw anything but floor until her hand under his chin force him to look up. When she had captured his eyes, she said, "Ron, I want you to caress my breasts ... please."