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 The Magnificent Mysterians, Naked In School by DrBill

   Part 10

   FRIDAY

   JOHN

   There is smoke everywhere.  And flashes of flame.  I have to do
something!  From glimpses of details through the smoke, I'm in some part of
the school.  People are running around.  A lot of them are looking at me,
expecting, demanding that I do something.  I pull out a rope and do a
trick. Nothing happens.  They look at me as the smoke gets thicker.  I pull
a quarter out of someone's ear, but that doesn't help either.  A girl in
front of me is slumping to the floor, coughing and unable to breathe.  I
pull out a deck of cards, fan them, and ask her to take one.  She looks at
me, bewildered and betrayed, then slumps to the floor.  The smoke thickens,
and I lose sight of the other people.  I am standing there, naked,
helpless, and alone.  I can't think, don't know what to do.  An alarm
sounds loudly, too late.  It's all too late...

   But I'm in bed.  At home.  Dressed in my PJs.  And the alarm is my
clock. With a brief memory of another magician, in an operating room.

   I slapped off the alarm, and grabbed my journal to write down what I
could remember.  As I did so, I decided it would be a really good idea to
take Perry a small fire extinguisher for the morning show.  Just in case.
And put another one with our stuff.  I had the feeling it was missing the
point, but it was a good idea, anyhow.

   I put on my slippers and bathrobe, and headed down to get the
extinguishers and put them with my stuff.  Dad greeted me from the kitchen,
where he was frying breakfast.  He reminded me that I wanted to get to the
school early.  I returned the greeting, then headed upstairs.  Now that my
head was cleared a little, I noticed the smells of bacon and burnt toast.

   I took care of the necessary, then had a quick but thorough shower.  I
noticed that my bruise was more yellow than purple and had shrunk.  A good
sign.

   I dressed for easy stripping, in shorts and a t shirt.  I really wanted
more layers of clothes, but it would just make things worse.  I went down
to the kitchen, and sat down to one of Dad's infamous omelets, bacon, toast
(unburnt), and milk.  He would be taking some documents to the school, and
they were things I couldn't take in for him.  I suspected they had to do
with Mrs.  Conway's public meltdown.  I suggested that he might enjoy
watching the morning show before or after dropping them off.

   In a way, this show would likely be better than the main one this
evening.  Everyone here was motivated and ready.  The timing would be
tight, and the pace just short of frantic.  And the finale should either
succeed wonderfully, or bomb horribly.  Either would be entertaining.

   I checked and made sure I had everything for our mini show for the
morning.  It was all there.  I grabbed that and my book bag, and we were
off.

   It was an hour and a half before school, and there was already a crowd.
A lot of them were performers for the Morning Show, but some were just
there to watch the fun.

   Two of Perry's friends were marking off ten foot circles.  I assumed
that they were the "danger zones" for the flashpots.  They probably could
have been about half the size, keeping people two and a half feet away, and
still been reasonably safe.  But I prefer an extra margin for safety.

   When I walked up to Perry, he was complaining to a small group that he
had not been able to get the portable stage he wanted.  I like the way this
guy thinks!  I gave him the fire extinguisher, and he seemed to think it
was a good idea, too.  Emily arrived, and we helped him set up the
flashpots, with their manual triggers.  He would have one person assigned
to each pot, to keep people outside the circle and trigger the flash at the
right time.  And then to keep people away from the pots until they had
cooled enough to be taken inside.

   We went up to our Five Minute Zone, as we called it, and set up the
small table and props we would use.  We also put the second fire
extinguisher nearby.

   About twenty minutes after I got there, Perry pulled out a notebook and
pencil, and started looking around.  He seemed to be doing a check of the
acts.

   He quickly walked around to groups of people, saying a few words and
moving on.  When he came to us, he said "You will be right after the
jugglers.  Will you join the finale?"

   "Don't think so."

   "Ok.  Have fun!" He moved off to talk to the string quartet.

   A few minutes (and one "late" arrival) later, Perry had his people start
the fanfare.  After a few words of welcome, he started into his monolog. 
He stripped as he joked.  Once he was well into it, and had all the
attention, we quickly stripped and tossed our clothes in the box.  We kept
the table to the side, so it wasn't blocking us.  We checked the time and
made a note of when our five minutes would be up.  In theory, each act had
two minutes.  There might be a few seconds between acts, but Perry didn't
want even that.  He would announce the act over the beginning of the act
itself.  We stood there watching him, which had the effect of pulling
attention away from us and toward him.

   When he got his final garment (a rather daring thong) off, we could see
writing where the "not the mic" disclaimer had been.  This time it said
"How many licks to the creamy center?" and, like yesterday's, featured an
arrow pointing downward.

   After a few more jokes, he gave way to a ventriloquist act, with a
difference.  While he kept his clothes on, the dummy got stripped.  He had
the anatomy, but it was not to scale!  The jokes were also on topic: "Why
did you end up in the Program?" "I was a dummy in front of certain
Participants!" The crowd liked that one.

   After that, a Brass trio played a somewhat short version of "The
Stripper" while Perry neatly trapped a couple of recent additions to the
Program (Susan's would-be stooges) into stripping there and then to the
music.

   About the same time, we noticed Susan coming in after making a wide
circle around Perry and the festivities.  She came up behind us, and sort
of hid while she undressed.  She was done before her suckers, even though
they had a head start.  Then she ducked inside.

   By this time, the jugglers had started.  To keep with the theme, they
juggled colorful dildoes and novelty fake breasts.  They were going strong
when our time was up, and we quickly slipped our robes on over our heads.

   Perry had pointed out one of his loopholes.  The rules, as described in
the pamphlet, required us to be naked "within the confines of the school
during school hours, and shall include all school sponsored activities
during or after normal school hours." The morning show was not school
sponsored (or even approved, really), and was BEFORE school hours.  If
there were problems about it, Perry promised to take the heat.

   The jugglers ended the act, comically catching breasts in their mouths,
then taking a bow.  We were on.  We roped one of the two (would be) stooges
into briefly helping with a classic "cut and restored rope" bit, then
borrowed a watch from someone else.  I vanished it then, as I made a show
of looking for it (and pulling out various silly things), Emily did a Cups
and Balls which ended up with the watch appearing under the stacked cups
(and the balls gone).  We handed back the watch and bowed, signaling the
end of our act and the beginning of the string quartet.

   There had been murmurs about the fact that we were dressed, but there
was a lot of attention to the fact that all of the quartet were dressed as
well.  While they played, we put away the props and folded up the table. 
Bridget's dancers were next, and during their reel we slipped off our robes
and ducked inside.

   From inside, we watched the end of the dance, and then a number of other
acts.  After the ribbon dancers, an irish music group capped the regular
show.  After their first song, they led the segue into the finale.

   The irish music group started playing a well known reel and Bridget's
group started dancing to it.  The string quartet joined in.  Then the brass
trio.  Tap dancers joined the irish dancers.  The jugglers surrounded
dancers, passing clubs around the outside.  The ribbon dancers flanked
them, twirling their ribbons.  The other performers clapped with the music,
throughout the buildup.  The music reached its peak, then everyone stops.
The flashpots went off behind the rear corners of the group, sending up
brief columns of smoke, light, and sparks, while the confetti cannons
produced columns of colorful confetti by the front corners.

   There was a sort of stunned silence, then a growing wave of applause. 
Even inside, it was loud.  Outside must have been deafening.

   EMILY

   I woke with a start.  My head was filled with fleeting, fading,
incomprehensible images.  By the time I grabbed journal and pen, it was all
gone.  All that was left was an impression of chaos and confusion.

   The alarm hadn't even rung yet.  But I knew that the extra ten minutes
wouldn't do me any good.  So I got up and dragged myself into the bathroom.
Looking in the mirror, I briefly thought I was in the nightmare again.  I
hadn't taken off the makeup last night, and it was a real mess.

   I got to work on that, getting rid of every bit of it.  Then I stepped
into the shower.  I was thorough, still aware that today (hopefully for the
last time) people would be seeing every bit of my body most of the time. 
On the other hand, if yesterday was any guide, most of them would be
ignoring it.  I was almost tempted to follow Perry's lead and draw
something on my body, just to see if anyone but John would notice.

   Almost.

   I got out of my shower, wrapped myself in towel and bathrobe, and headed
for my room.  I combed out my hair, and thought about makeup.  I decided
against any.  For one thing, it would be a good thing to let my skin rest
after sleeping in the theatrical stuff.  And for another, the bruise drew
attention from the rest of my body.  And then limited the amount of
attention it got, as well.

   I dressed (Hah!  Fat lot of good that was going to do me), and gathered
my stuff for school.  I had two magic shows to do today, and I was ready
for both.  It was the other show I was worried about.  The more free form
one, where I try to get something out of class while exposing my entire
body to rooms full of horny, impulsive teenagers and the occasional
lecherous adult.  The one where I have to pose on demand, and let any and
every student touch me anywhere they want, whether or not I want them to.

   That show.

   I guess the secret is just to concentrate on what is at hand, and deal
with the rest when it is at hand.  For now, that was breakfast, and the
morning show.

   Even though I was running early, I was not surprised to see both of them
in the kitchen when I got down there.  When they greeted me, I returned the
greeting somewhat mechanically.  I was just not in a bubbly mood.  I also
noticed that I had done so from inside my safe place.  That was kinda odd.
This is home.  These are my parents.  I never needed to be in here when I
am here with them, unless they are starting to push me into something in
hopes of changing me.

   Maybe that was a part of it.  Now that I paid attention, I noticed that
they were not acting their normal selves, either.  Their bodies were tense,
and they measured their words.  They were worried, probably about me.  In
the past, such worry has been known lead to impulsive actions "for my own
good".

   "Yeah, right," a part of me sneered, "for the good of rescuing their
consciences from dealing with how badly they screwed up when raising me."

   I really and honestly love my parents a whole lot.  And most of the
time, I even trust them.  But sometimes...

   They asked about my lack of makeup, and I repeated the breathing skin
bit.  Mom nodded when I said that, but I don't think she noticed herself
doing it.  They asked about any effects from the incident yesterday, and I
pointed to my face and gave them a "what do you think?" look.  They seemed
unhappy about the way I was responding.  But they could not bring
themselves to say anything.

   Great.

   I finished and Mom took my plate.  That was a little unusual, but I
shrugged it off.  Dad offered me a lift to school, since I needed to be
there very early.  I accepted.

   When I got there, John was talking to Perry and handing him a fire
extinguisher.  That was a good idea.  Those loads can be a little
temperamental, and it's better to be safe than sorry.  I went over and
helped with setup.

   When we were done with that, we set up for our own part of the show.

   Perry started the show, and we quietly stripped and stood watching his
antics.  And those of the other entertainers near him.  His tattoo was
funny, in a lewd sort of way.

   While the brass trio were playing, and Perry was playing with the boys
who tried to frame me, Susan snuck in behind us.  Somewhat hiding there,
she stripped and then went inside (almost at a dead run).

   When it was almost time for our turn, and our five minutes was up, we
put on our robes.  That let us do a couple of things that were costume
dependent.  Just as the jugglers ended their silly act, we started our part
of the show.  It went well.

   After that, we put the props away and got ready to go inside.  We pulled
off our robes just before we went in.

   We stood and watched the rest of the show.  Some parts were better than
others, but the finale was spectacular.  Perry pulled that together,
literally overnight?  Incredible.

   At the end of the finale, before the crowds started surging in, we
headed for the office to leave our props and robes there.  Principal Murrow
was standing there, and told us to get Perry, the irish dancers, and the
string quartet, and meet him in his office immediately.  He did not look
entirely pleased.

   We swam through the tide of students coming in through the doors, making
our way toward the changing area.  We figured we could catch some of them
changing if we got there quickly enough.  We were in luck.  Bridget was
waiting there, just inside and to the side of the doors, out of the way of
the human stampede.

   When she saw us, she ran up and wrapped herself around John in a big
hug. She was still in the throes of the euphoria which can only come from
doing a really exciting show and getting overwhelming applause.  Ok, I
suppose Making The Big Play To Win The Game (with a similar audience
response) might do it, too.  She was so up that even our news couldn't
bring her down.  She told us to wait there and bounded out the door.

   We stood there looking at each other, and sort of shrugged.  Down in my
safe place, I found it kind of funny.  But I knew that I had been there and
done that as well.

   A few moments later, she was back with the naked dancers and string
players in tow.  She told us to go on in, and she would bring Perry and the
others.  The crowd had subsided a bit by then, so we made our way toward
the office.  A couple of them tried to ask what this was about, but the
noise was still too loud for us to hear each other clearly and we just
shrugged.

   When we got to the office, we were waved into the large conference room.
By the time we got inside and settled, we were joined by Bridget, Perry,
and two very flustered string players.  A moment later, principal Murrow
stepped into the room, lowered the blinds, and closed the door.  He looked
at us pointedly, and we quickly settled.

   "You all have put the school in a very bad position.  By rights, all but
three of you should be facing at least another week in the Program.  And
that isn't even counting the danger posed by the fireworks.  Whose idea
were those, anyway?  As if I have to ask."

   Perry spoke up.  "Yes, it was my idea.  But we took safety precautions.
John premeasured everything, and had us make and enforce a safety zone
around the flashpots.  We even made sure there weren't any trees over or
near the flashes."

   "The loads were special indoor materials." John continued, "with
extremely short lived burns and almost no residue.  I had them set the
safety margins at twice the normal width, as an extra margin.  Each was
controlled by someone right there, and they lasted less than a second.  We
made it as safe as possible."

   Principal Murrow just looked at John a moment, then shrugged.  "Alright,
I will concede that point at the moment.  But I will be reviewing the
school and district policies about fireworks and possibly tightening them.
It is trouble waiting to happen."

   "But that wasn't the main reason I called you here.  All but one of you
did your performances clothed.  Even you two." He looked at us.  "With all
the attention on the school this week, that is more than I can overlook."

   We all looked pointedly at Perry, who just grinned.  "Actually, sir,
it's not really a violation of the rules, as spelled out in the Pamphlet.
it says we have to be nekkid quote within the confines of the school during
school hours, and shall include all school sponsored activities during or
after normal school hours Unquote.  This was not a school sponsored
activity.  Technically, it wasn't even a school sanctioned activity, since
we neither asked nor were given permission for it.  But even if it was, it
was BEFORE school hours and the rule specifies during and after school
hours."

   Principal Murrow picked up a Pamphlet from the stack in the corner, and
looked through it for a moment.  "Alright, whose idea was it to exploit
this so called loophole?  Or do I even have to ask?"

   Perry nodded.  "Yes, it was me.  And I told them I would take their
lumps if you found some way to rule against it."

   "So if I was going to give them each another week, you would end up with
seven more weeks?" He said it with a straight face, but couldn't hide a
brief grin when Perry sort of blanched and gasped at that.

   "Alright.  Here is what we'll do.  We will treat this as an 'appeal',
and put it before the board.  If they go against your interpretation, they
will decide what to do about it.  And they will take your promise into
account.  The rest of you," he looked around the room, "do your very best
to stay out of trouble.  And for all our sakes, try not to push the
envelope any more today.  Even you three." He looked at Bridget and the two
clothed string players.  Bridget just grinned and mimed snapping her
fingers in disappointment.

   He dismissed us to our classes.  It was still early enough that we had
time to get there without needing late slips.  Perry stayed behind to talk
with him about something.

   JOHN

   "Here it comes," I thought, seeing the look on Principal Murrow's face.
"We'll be naked for the rest of the year!"

   I knew that there would be "discussions" over the clothes.  But I was
surprised when he brought up the flashpot loads first.  He knew us well
enough to know we would take all the necessary precautions.  I reassured
him about that, and he let it go.

   Perry was as good as his word, and took responsibility for the clothes
bit.  It will be interesting to see what the Committee makes of that.

   On the way out to class, I saw that Perry's friends had brought in the
equipment while we were in conference.  That was a relief.

   We headed out to our classes.  We had time to get there, but nothing to
spare.  It seemed that everyone else in the hallways was in a hurry, as
well.  No hint of an RR.

   I got to class with a minute to spare.  As I settled in and got my stuff
out, I went into my safe place and slowed my breathing a little to calm
down.

   Mr.  Brown called roll and then started reading the announcements.  I
heard the speakers go live, and wondered what The Voice Of God would
pronounce today.

   It turned out he was just encouraging everyone to come to the talent
show tonight.  Also, he called for a round of applause for those who
participated in the morning show.  He paused, and cheers could be heard
from some rooms.  This room only clapped.  Finally, he mentioned that some
clarifications to Program rules would be posted sometime Monday.

   The speakers went dead again, and Mr.  Brown finished reading the
announcements.  Then he started the class proper.

   Deep in my safe place, I reflected on it being the last day of my
Program week.  I hoped.  Somehow, that made me even more aware of my
nakedness than I had been the last couple of days.  This was the day when
many Program Participants go wild, trying to cram in every bit of "benefit"
they saw in the Program.  It wasn't unusual for parts of the halls and
classrooms to be very slippery on Fridays.  There was an atmosphere of
expectation and abandon.

   But I was the square peg.  Well, one of them.  My actions and attitudes
were not going to meet those expectations.  At best, I will either be an
unseen part of the background - virtually invisible - or a sort of wet
blanket on the whole thing.  At worst, I would be a challenge, with people
anxious to get me to respond before the day is done.  I will still be naked
at the talent show tonight, but in a Look But Don't Touch sort of way.

   While in some ways pleasant to contemplate, the likely reality of such
attempts is that they would attract a lot of attention.  I would attract a
lot of attention.

   That part was not as pleasant to contemplate.

   For all that, class was surprisingly mundane.  And soon, it was over. 
No homework this time.  He wished us a good weekend, and expressed a hope
that he would see all of us at the talent show.  Two of the girls in class
looked at him, looked at me, looked back at him, and broke out laughing.

   He looked surprised and puzzled.  But as I passed through the doorway,
he seemed to get it.  "That wasn't what I meant!"

   With plenty of time for the short journey to History, I strolled.  I
stopped at a drinking fountain and got a drink.  While I was bent over,
someone ran a hand over my hip in passing.  I never saw who it was, but I
kind of hope it was one of the girls.

   A few people approached me en route, but all they did was say something
like "Nice show this morning" or wish me luck with the show tonight, and
keep walking on by.  I acknowledged them and what they said.

   I got to the room in plenty of time.

   After I settled into my seat, I noticed a commotion at the doorway. 
Susan arrived in a sea of hands, seemingly enjoying herself.  She was
flushed, and there were trails of wetness down her thighs.  She headed
toward her seat and got out her towel.  Then she looked in my direction,
and her face fell.  She didn't have her earlier looks of hatred or
condescension.  She looked sad, and a little afraid.  With maybe a touch of
shame.

   I wondered what that was about.  There was so much to choose from.  What
her mother did.  What she did in the locker room.  The possibility of being
prosecuted for that.  What she put those two boys up to.  What she did to
them afterwards.  What she said in front of the office.  What she has since
done, after making those derogatory accusations.  What happened in HHS. 
What she faces at the talent show.  The two weeks she still faces.  Any
combination of the above.  Something else entirely?

   She didn't say anything, so I never really found out.  But she did spend
the class kind of slumped in her seat.  Mr.  Bailey knew that she was in
the Program for two more weeks, so he didn't push it.

   We had a short quiz, which was pretty easy, then went over our weekend
assignment and what we would cover next week.  He likes to give us every
chance to be prepared for the discussions.

   With that, class ended.  I wondered if the rest of the day would go that
easily.  Somehow, I doubted it.

   EMILY

   When the announcement over the speakers celebrated the morning show, the
class erupted in cheers.  Dave stood up and gave an exaggerated bow.  The
class got louder.  As Dave sat down, Mr.  Weber gave me an inquiring
glance. I shook my head slightly, and he dropped it.

   After getting off to such a rousing start, the class was kind of an
anticlimax.  Don't get me wrong.  Mr.  Weber, who will almost certainly be
reading this journal sometime before assigning my final grade for the
semester, is a wonderful teacher.  He can make grammar interesting, which
is no mean feat.  But after the morning show, the office visit, and the
response to the announcement, anything as "normal" as a real class (even an
otherwise interesting one) is going to pale.

   Even as deep in my safe place as I was.

   The walk to history, which I was careful to keep to a walk, was
interesting.  A lot of people spoke to me in passing, mostly praising the
morning show or wishing me well for the evening show.  Or both.  A couple
stopped to ask me where they could learn more about some of our tricks, and
I directed them to the library and a couple of nearby magic stores.  Nobody
made any Requests, or tried anything nonverbal.

   I thought about John, and our different reactions to such casual
attention.  For some reason, he was much more uncomfortable with it than I
was.  This attention was not personal enough to really trigger me.

   History class was interesting.  We were basically going over the
differences between administrative, civil, and criminal proceedings.  To
make it relevant, he used Susan and her friend (without naming them or
their victim, or mentioning Susan's previous trouble).  He described the
perfume, the glue, the confrontation, and the witness (the coach).  He then
listed a number of possible consequences on the board, including time in
Program, suspension/expulsion, having to replace the damaged things, fines,
jail/community service, and probation.  Then he asked the class which kind
of proceeding might result in each.

   There was a lot of disagreement, and a lot of suggestions.  Eventually,
he conceded the fact that some of them applied to more than one kind of
proceeding.  For instance, all three could lead to having to replace the
damaged things.  He left things as they were for the moment, then went a
little more into what each kind of proceeding is, and the standards of
evidence and other protections were for each.

   For some reason, the talk about the criminal proceedings drove me deep
into my safe place, while the others did not make it quite as deep.

   In the end, some of my classmates were surprised that the girls could
face criminal convictions for what they did, and maybe even some jail time.
And that any of them could be tried as an adult in such a case.  They were
also surprised to learn just how few protections there were in the
administrative proceedings any of them might face.  It gave us all
something to think about - one of Mr.  Moyer's favorite outcomes.

   I was deeper in my safe place on my way to Geometry than I had been on
the way to History, but otherwise the walk was much the same. 
Complimentary comments in passing, and no Requests.

   Perry stopped me just outside the door, interrupting his usual portable
audience to hand me two folded and stapled notes.  One was addressed to me,
one to John.

   "Don't let any one else see them," he advised, then turned back to a
girl who was in the process of grabbing his erection.

   "You made me lose count!" she pouted, playfully.

   I missed the rest of their exchange while I went to my desk and settled
in.  I opened my note and looked at it.  The top part was a statement that
body paint, even that done to resemble clothing, has long been acceptable
for Program Participants.  Especially at special events, such as rallies,
special sporting events, and competitions.

   It went on to state that items such as necklaces and neckties would be
allowed for the talent show, as long as they did not cover face, breasts,
navel, or genitals.

   It was signed by Principal Murrow.

   Below that was a note from Perry, asking that we do not let anyone else
see the notes.  It would spoil the surprise.

   I tucked the notes in my book bag, and got ready for class.  Ms. 
Lesmeister called the class to order, then asked Perry whether he needed
relief.  He bounded (I love that word) up to the front, then turned and
winked at the class.  Ms.  Lesmeister whether he wanted help, and he said
yes.  Then she asked for volunteers.  A couple of people almost raised
their hands before they remembered.

   "There don't seem to be any volunteers.  So I pick you!" he said with a
grin.

   She looked around the room again, then got a half smile.  "Are you
REALLY sure that's what you want?" she asked, with an evil looking glint in
her eyes.

   Uh, oh.

   Perry seemed to miss that look in his eagerness to agree.

   "And I have carte blanche, to do whatever it takes?

   "Oh, yes." There was no mistaking the eagerness in his voice.

   "Stand up!"

   As he bent over then started to stand, she gave him a very loud slap on
the butt.  He straightened abruptly and turned to face her, and we could
see her handprint.

   "That was to get your attention!  Now listen..." She started talking so
quietly that only Perry could hear, and he had to kinda strain to do so. 
As she spoke, she trailed the edges and points of her fingernails down his
chest.  Once she was about halfway down his ribcage, she drew her
fingernails back up toward his nipples.  When she arrived there, she
pinched his nipples.  Hard, from the look of it.

   She kept talking and moving, her hands dividing just above his pubic
hair and going down the sides to trail down the insides of his thighs.  The
talking seemed to get more intense, and so did his apparent arousal, as she
drew her nails back upward and inward.  When she gently (I hope) scraped
her nails over his scrotum, he stopped breathing.  He started breathing
again, and she started talking again, as she drew her hands up the
underside of his cock.  At the head of his cock, one hand fell away, and
the other circled the shaft.  She pulled outward, saying something, and his
eyes got very wide.  She kept talking as she started slowly pumping that
hand, and as she picked up speed.  Within seconds, about three and a half
minutes after they started, he came.  Hard.

   She directed him back to his seat.  As he staggered on his way, his face
looked haunted.

   "Now that the entertainment portion of the class is finished, unless..."
She briefly glanced at me.  I shook my head.  "...Oh, well.  Now," she drew
a triangle on the board, "If we cut the head off of this triangle..." Perry
groaned, as she drew a line parallel to the base of the triangle, "we get
two figures.  A smaller triangle and...?" she waited for an answer from the
class, and we went on with Geometry as though the first five minutes had
never happened.

   I would love to know what she said to him up there.

   At the end of class, a lot of people converged on Perry, while others
converged on Ms.  Lesmeister.  As I walked out the door, I got the
impression that neither group got the answer they wanted.

   JOHN

   Have you ever seen one of those movies where the character is so deep in
trouble that he has to look up to see rock bottom?  Where that character
goes to a bar or a party, and frantically tries to lose himself in the
momentary celebration?

   Or have you known someone who did that?

   Watching Susan as she dove into the crowd outside the door reminded me
of that.  We really only had a few spare minutes between classes, but she
seemed determined to make the most of them.  There was a manic, out of
control look to her.  Even with all that she had done to me (and to Emily
and Bridget), I was worried for her.

   But there was nothing I could do about it now.  So I headed to class.

   When I got there, Ms.  McMillan reminded me that she will collect the
journal on Monday.  I need to make sure and record anything relevant
tonight and over the weekend.  The weekend should be easy, since the only
school or Program related things I plan to do are homework and the article.
And I can do those with my clothes on.

   I went to my seat, and Bridget and I traded greetings.  Looking at her
and talking with her were almost enough to lift me out of my safe place. 
Almost.

   Interesting.

   Susan surfed in on the flood of reaching hands.  Ms.  McMillan reminded
her that there will be new journals each week.  She will collect the old
one on Monday and issue the new one.  Susan acknowledged the information,
then headed for her seat.  She seemed to avoid looking in my direction.

   Ms.  McMillan reminded the class about the assignment due Monday, and
that we had already had two days to work on it.  With all that had
happened, I had not done as much on it as I normally would have.  But I
should have plenty of time on the weekend.

   The rest of class was business as usual, aside from the fact that I was
sitting there stark naked and deep in my safe place.

   As class ended, Bridget asked me whether I was going to the party after
the show.  I said that I was not planning to.  She seemed disappointed. 
For some reason, that got to me.  I pointed out that I was never much of a
party person, and having to be naked at that one would make it that much
worse.  I'm not sure what came over me, but I went on to say that maybe we
could do something next week.  She smiled at that.

   I guess she does like me.

   I turned at a shout of "Party time!", to see Susan disappear in a sea of
hands.  Bridget and I exchanged looks, then shrugged.

   I headed to the PE office to pick up a clipboard and stopwatch.  I
wouldn't be running, so I didn't bother to "change".  The coach was there,
along with a couple of his assistants.  I was glad to note that one in
particular was there.  The coach waved me over.

   "Still sore?" he asked.

   "Mostly tender.  With luck, I should be ok for Monday."

   "Alright.  Now, I'll need at least one of you at each..." he went on to
tell us what we would be doing today.  I would be clocking the 220s, noting
lap times and final times and watching for potential problems.

   There was one nice thing about my assignment: I was nowhere near the
part of the track that runs by the fence, the sidewalk, and the street. 
People could still see me from there, but not in any meaningful way.  And
since I would be working from the infield, I wouldn't be too close to the
stands, and the lunch crowd there.  Better, the current and waiting runners
were often between me and the stands.

   I got a couple of chances to talk with the assistant from before.  He
was out yesterday because of a doctor's appointment.  He had torn a
ligament earlier in the year, and they were checking on the progress after
his surgery and nanotreatment.

   When class was over, there was no point in showering.  I hadn't done
enough to work up anything like a sweat.  I turned in the equipment, walked
into the girls' locker room and took one last look around.  I went to my
locker and got my stuff.  I took it into the boys' locker room, and locked
my track stuff in my regular locker.

   All the running water had a predictable effect on me, so I headed toward
the restroom.  At the last moment, I remembered that I was still under
Program restrictions, so I dashed through the office and around into the
restroom in the girls' locker room.  After I was done, I went to wash my
hands.  As I was doing so, I heard "Hello?  Whoever's out there, I need
help!"

   The voice sounded familiar, like someone from some of my classes.

   "What's wrong?"

   "I'm out of supplies and I'm bleeding like a stuck pig.  Do you have any
spares?"

   Have I mentioned that I am not exactly a baritone?  "Uh, no.  Can't you
get some from the machines?"

   "I don't dare move, or it'll be all over the place.  Could you get me
something?  I'll pay you back."

   Oh, great.  Waaay TMI.  Oh, well.  It's a normal human activity, a part
of life.  Safe place.  Nice, safe place.

   "Ok, which do you need?"

   "One of each, if you can.  It's really heavy today."

   Well, that would only be a dollar.  I always keep a few dollars in
change in my bag, for emergencies (and the occasional trick).  I went to
the machines and got a tampon and a pad.  That was something I never
thought I'd do.

   "Here they are." Ok, now what do I do?  This could go bad in so many
ways.

   "You'll have to bring them to me, John.  I can't come get them!"

   Ok, so she does know who I am.  What the hell...  she's already seen me,
up close and personal.  She is in my HHS class.  I walked over and handed
her the things.  She thanked me and asked me to get her a couple of damp
paper towels to wash her hands before she handled her clothes.  I went back
to the sink and dampened a couple of paper towels, then quickly returned.

   "Thanks, John.  You're a lifesaver." She used one of the towels to wash
her hands fairly thoroughly.  She handed me the other towel and the pad,
and asked me to hold them for a moment.  She opened the tampon package, put
one foot up on the toilet seat, and inserted the tampon.  She took out the
applicator, which was smeared with blood, slipped it back in the wrapper,
and dropped it in the little receptacle by the toilet.  She took the other
towel from me, washed her hands again, and gently wiped her thighs and then
her vulva.  She threw out the used paper towel, took the pad, unwrapped it,
and stuck it to the inside of her panties.  Then she stood, pulling them up
as she did so.

   I understood the process in theory, from my classes.  It was somewhat
different in practice.  It certainly wasn't attractive or arousing.  And it
wasn't anywhere near as disgusting as I had imagined.  It just...  was.

   "You know, my mom told me that if I ever let a boy see that, he would
either be turned on incredibly, or turned off to sex for years.  You're
obviously not aroused.  Have I destroyed your libido?"

   "No.  It was mildly interesting going from theory to seeing it in
practice, but I am too deep in my safe place for it to really affect me one
way or another."

   "Well, that's a relief.  Here," she handed me a $1 bill.  "Thanks for
your help.  Most boys would have freaked or used it as an excuse to grope
me.  You're good people." With that, she went to the sink, washed her
hands, and left.

   Shrugging, I left as well.  I headed to the place where I would meet
Emily.

   She was just arriving there herself.  We turned and headed for the caf.
She gave me the note from Perry.  It really was too little too late, but it
was nice to know.  I tucked it into my book bag.

   She asked what I did in gym.  She laughed when I told her I timed a
bunch of runners and then helped a girl with her tampon.  As we approached
the door to the cafeteria, I sank down into my safe place some more.  I
could see her doing the same.

   I decided to try the fish sandwich today, in honor of an outdated custom
I had heard about.  The rest was the same, though.  Emily had a salad, as
usual, but this time she chose the one with the fake crab.  About the only
thing that happened while we were eating was some of our tablemates asking
whether we were happy about the week ending, or complimenting on the
morning show (which they seemed to think we had more to do with than we
did), or asked about the talent show.  We fielded most of the questions and
comments, and ate.

   After we ate, we went to the office to collect our things from the
morning show.  While we were there, I let Vice Principal Ackerman know
about my observations about Susan.  She thanked me and said she would keep
an eye out.

   We took our props and costumes to the theater, and saw that there was a
class in session there.  Then we saw people from the talent show quietly
going in and out of the backstage, trying not to disturb the class.  We
decided to do the same, and locked the stuff up with our pieces for the
real talent show.  After the show, we could take it all home.

   It was time for us to get to class.  Emily headed for the gym, and I
turned toward the Chemistry lab.

   On the way there, I noticed the same pattern as before.  Passing
comments, no Requests, little real attention at all.

   When I got to the lab, it was so nice to slip into the lab coat.  It
sort of provided a fiction that everyone in the class was not thinking
about the fact that I was stark naked under it.

   We went through titration today.  Interesting in its own way I suppose.
Nothing to write home about, though.  All too soon, class was over and I
had to surrender the lab coat again.

   I was a little worried as I made my way to Health.  This would be her
last shot at me, unless something goes terribly wrong.  And I really didn't
want to think about that last possibility.

   I got to class and settled into my seat just before Susan arrived in her
usual cloud of hands.  There was a certain manic heat in her eyes, until
she stepped into the room and saw Bridget and me.  Her face fell and her
body slumped, as she slid into her seat.  Ms.  Prothrow had watched the
whole entrance with apparent interest, but she didn't seem to do anything
about it.

   Ms.  Prothrow gave me another questionnaire to answer.  She then gave
Bridget and Susan different questionnaires.

   There was a note attached to mine, which advised me that the
questionnaire was to help evaluate the Program, and would not be a part of
my grade.  It also said that there would be another one at the end of next
week, for followup purposes.

   The form itself was titled "Program Week Evaluation - Male".  It did not
have a space for my name, but did have spaces for my grade and the time. 
It also asked whether I was Selected or added to the Participants (and if
the latter, why).  It had some charts, where we would fill in three entries
for each day of the week - one for the previous week, one for this week,
and one for the difference (this week minus last week).  The instructions
told me to give my best guess for days I could not remember with a
certainty.  There were such tables for erections, times masturbated to
climax without assistance, with assistance, times masturbated without
climax, sexual acts with members of the opposite sex, the same sex, number
of partners for the day, most partners at once, and so on.  Some of them
were easy to do: all zeros.  But there were a few things I hadn't noticed
until then.  I hadn't "really" masturbated since Tuesday morning.  That was
notably less than the week before, and that week had been sort of average.
But I hadn't even had an erection at all since Tuesday night, and only had
three since I was Selected, and that was a whole lot less than the week
before.

   That can't be good.

   The short essay parts were more difficult.  What were the benefits of my
week in the Program?  Well, I don't have to worry about when I'll be
Selected any more, and we found we could revamp our magic act on short
notice.  That was about it.  The negatives about the Program took a whole
lot more space.  What had I learned about myself?  I could go deeper in my
safe place, and stay there longer, than I thought I could.  About others? I
learned what breasts and a vulva looked, felt, and smelled like in real
life.  How did it change my attitudes toward nudity?  I am much less casual
about it.  Sexuality?  Too much bother for now.  Suggestions?  I considered
saying scrap the whole thing, but it wasn't going to happen.  Besides, it
wasn't that bad for some of the others.  I suggested school-issued (or at
least recommended) recorders, much stronger conflict of interest rules for
the Committee, a longer, more thorough review of the Selected, and a
deferred selection for those involved in one-time competitions for which
the mandatory nudity could be a competitive disadvantage.  The ongoing
things, like sports, were a whole different matter.  I also suggested
changing the locks on the bathrooms so they could not be locked without a
key, even though that was not a Program issue.

   She wasn't going to like those answers.  Any of them.  But it doesn't
affect my grade, so what the hell.

   She didn't.

   Class was almost over when I finished.  I took the paper up to her desk
and went back to my seat.  I watched her face as she read it.  At first,
she looked like she didn't believe what I was saying.  But the more she
read, the more her face and body language spoke of sincere unhappiness. 
When the bell rang, she wished those of us in the talent show good luck,
and everyone a good weekend.  Her heart wasn't in it.

   It would have been interesting to see Susan's answers.

   EMILY

   Physical Science was an interesting demonstration of Psychology.  The
actual subject matter was waves and particles, but that was pretty much
business as usual.  The interesting part was watching Dr.  Burns and most
of the class pretend that I was not sitting there stark naked.  Or that
there was nothing unusual about my doing so.  If it weren't for the
occasional twitch or quickly turned head, I might have thought I was being
paranoid or something.

   But whatever they were pretending to ignore (or actually ignoring?), I
was still all too aware that I was sitting there naked, and not by choice.
Balancing that was the thought that this was the last day I would be doing
so.  Even so, I was pretty deep in my safe place.

   Class ended, and I went to meet John for lunch.  There were some people
in the halls who gave some walk-by greetings and compliments, but nobody
stopped me.

   John was walking toward the meeting place at the same time I was.  We
headed for the food.  On the way, I gave him the note about the body paint.
He sighed that it was too little, too late.  I asked him what he had done
in gym, since he was still on the no-run list.  I nearly died when he
casually mentioned helping a girl with her tampon.  Too funny.

   When we got our food, John made a comment about Friday being "fish day"
as he got a fish sandwich instead of his usual cheeseburger.  I decided to
go along with the theme, choosing a salad with the fake crab instead of my
usual chef's salad.  The rest of our lunches were the same as always.

   Our table was more active than usual, with comments about the morning
show, questions about the upcoming evening show, and general talk.

   As we were finishing our lunches, John mentioned that he wanted to go to
the office to pick up the stuff from the morning show.  We could lock it up
with the stuff for tonight, then take it all home at once.  We finished,
and left.

   On the way to the office, he quietly told me about Susan's actions.  I
agreed that they seemed out of character for her.  When we got to the
office, I collected the stuff and he spoke to V.P.  Ackerman about Susan.
We got the stuff safely stored away, then headed for our classes.

   I got to the locker room a little early, and started changing footwear
for the class.  More than most classes, I was happy that this would be my
last day having to use the boys' locker room to change.  There were boys
into their regular clothes, and others getting ready for their gym classes.
I had just finished changing when I saw Susan whirl in, surrounded by boys.
I saw what John meant: she looked kinda out of control.  When she saw me,
she stopped and her face fell.  But then a boy was sliding his hand up
between her legs, and she was off again.

   I've seen Program girls come to enjoy themselves after the first couple
of days.  Some have even gotten pretty wild by the end of the week.  But
she was doing something else.  Something that did not seem healthy.

   I grabbed my towel, and went off to Aerobics.  For once, I would have
plenty of time to stretch and warm up.

   Other than the extended warmups, class was pretty much like it had been.
I was VERY glad that this was the last day I would be doing this without a
bra.

   After class, I showered in peace.  I changed, then took my stuff to my
regular locker (over on the girls' side).

   The walk to French was uneventful.  Some walk-by comments and
compliments, but no Requests.  Why was that disappointing?

   Once we were settled, Mme.  Bien announced a quiz, covering what we had
learned about verbs.  In the time honored fashion of students everywhere,
we groaned.  She put stacks of quizzes on the front desks, to be passed
back, and then called me to her desk.

   "I have been asked to have you fill out this questionnaire, for the
Program.  You are excused from the quiz." That was a relief.  With all that
went on, I wasn't all that confident about what I had learned in class that
week.

   The relief didn't last very long.  The header said "Program Week
Evaluation - Female".  It didn't ask my name, but it did ask a whole lot of
other things.  The tables were depressing.  And embarrassing.  But the
short answer questions were worse.  It was designed to show how much I had
benefited from the Program.  Instead, it showed how much worse it had made
things.  As if I really needed to have my face rubbed in that.  And there
would be another one next week.

   I'd rather have taken the quiz.

   I turned it in to Mme.  Bien.  She glanced at the top of the page, then
slid it into an interoffice envelope.  I kinda got the feeling she didn't
want to know.

   End Part 10

   Part 11

   JOHN

   When I arrived at the Art Materials room, there was an ominous sight. 
The table, camera, and screen were there like before, and there were a
number of cut away molds on the table.  But there was also a somewhat beat
up recliner next to the table, and a few buckets next to the recliner.  The
recliner had a beach towel on it.

   Class started, and Ms.  Johnson began talking about Alginate (the stuff
dentists use to make dental impressions).  There are two kinds: a powder
that you mix with water, and a sort of opaque gel that you mix with a
catalyst.  She talked about the trade offs, then called me up to the front
of the room.  She had me sit in the recliner and lean back.  I had a bad
feeling about where this was going.

   I was wrong.  Again.

   As she mixed a batch of alginate, she talked about life masks, and their
use in theater and arts.  She took two halves of a plastic straw, wrapped
some cotton around one end of each, and had me stick them up my nose.  She
put a plastic apron over my body, and a shower cap on my head.  She smeared
some stuff over my eyebrows.  Then she poured the green gloop over my face
and neck, spreading it in a thick, even layer.  She then talked about how
rubbery it would be when it hardened.  She talked about mixing plaster, and
said that plaster bandages could be used instead.  She poured the plaster
over the alginate, spreading it.

   While all that set, she went on to talk about lost wax casting.  She
apparently used the molds from the table to illustrate her talk.  In an
aside, she promised to show them to me after I got the stuff off my face.

   When the plaster was applied, the alginate had started getting cool to
the touch.  A little while after that, it started getting pleasantly warm.

   After what seemed like several hours, she had me put my hands on the
mask, then sit up in the chair.  Then she had me lean forward, and got the
mask off of me.  There it was: a perfect, inside-out, green image of my
face.  She took a couple of clay plugs and blocked the holes from the
nostril straws.  Then she poured the mask full of plaster.

   She said she would take it out when it was done, and show it to us on
Monday.  Then she dismissed the class.  She showed me the samples from
earlier, then reminded me to stop by the office before I left.  She also
wished us well for the talent show.

   As we headed out the door, Emily commented "One last time!" She was
right.  Barring some last minute extension, this would be our last naked
walk through the halls of the school.  Tonight, we would be staying in the
theater, and we did not have any school activities this weekend.

   The walk to the office was like the last couple of trips to class. 
People acknowledged us in passing, complimenting us on the morning show or
wishing us well in the evening.  No leering, no Requests, no insults. 
There were pockets of activity around some of the other Participants,
especially some of the "late starters".  And that activity was clearly
sexual, and clearly voluntary.

   How could something make me feel so good but so bad at the same time?

   When we got to the office, I was given an envelope with a jewel case and
some papers in it.  It was the video from HHS and the releases.  Emily made
a comment about wanting to be there when my parents watched it.  I grumbled
that she was welcome to my seat.

   When we walked out the front door, there was a larger than usual crowd.
A couple of people were quietly dressing, and were ignored by the crowd.  A
few others were playing with the crowd, even throwing themselves at them.
Susan was prominently among them.  When we stepped through the door, there
was a momentary surge of excitement.  They were there to be entertained,
and we were known as entertainers.  When we moved toward the clothes, there
was a major wave of disappointment through the crowd.  Either way, we would
not be ignored.  We could either leave on a high note or leave behind a
large, unhappy audience.

   The Magicians were back.

   Emily approached a nearby boy with a look of comic disgust.  "Eeeew! 
What is that sticking out of your nose?" She reached up and apparently
pulled a string of silks out of his nose.  Then it was stuck.  After
pulling harder a couple of times, she pulled out the last silk, in the
shape of a pair of bright red, bikini cut panties.  She held them up,
looked at him, looked at them, and looked at him again.

   "If you have to sniff them, at least hold on to them while you're doing
it!" She tossed the bundle over her shoulder, to me.  He turned a very
satisfying shade of red, while his friends laughed.

   While she was doing that, I had quietly put on my underwear and pants.
She was at the point of throwing the bundle before I could put on my shirt,
but that was ok.  I went up to a girl I knew was a good sport, and
apparently pulled some money from her cleavage.  Then I pulled out a couple
of blank credit card slips, and commented that I really didn't want to know
where they slid the card.  She feigned shock and indignity, but couldn't
help the smile, and then laugh, that followed.  A boy started teasing her
about "selling it", so I reached down and pulled a long rubber snake out of
his pants.  "You know, that's not what they mean when they talk about a
trouser snake!" I quipped.

   He blushed, then laughed.  Emily tossed me my shirt, and I slipped it
on. We bowed, then headed home.

   As we walked toward the street, we saw Mrs.  Conway sitting in her car.
She was staring at Susan's wild ride in shock and anger.  And probably a
few more emotions, as well.

   We decided it was a good idea to quietly avoid her, and walked our
separate ways home.

   This time I was not all that surprised to find Dad home.  He called out
a greeting to me from his home "office", and continued clicking away at the
computer.  I went upstairs and put my school stuff on my desk, then went
downstairs and loaded my bookbag for contingencies at the talent show.

   One of the reasons we were second to last is that we were flexible on
time.  While we already had the act pared down as much as we reasonably
could, we could easily expand to fill quite a bit of time.  With little
more than the things in our bags and those already at the theater, we could
do about a two hour show without getting boring or repetitive.  On the
other hand, we know some people who could do the same with a couple of
decks of cards, a few coins, and a length of cotton rope.  Well, and the
availability of a pair of scissors or a sharp knife.  Good magic, even
great magic, does not require a lot of big props or elaborate gimmicks. 
Some of the real artists can take the simplest tricks, with the most
mundane, unprepared materials, and make them wonderful.

   We are not that good.  Yet.  But we are good.  And some of our creations
are even better in the hands of more experienced performers.

   I went up to the living room and found Mom home.  She and Dad were in
the kitchen, working on an early dinner.  I noticed the smell of roasted or
baked chicken, which meant that it must have been in the oven when I got
home.  Traditionally, we have a light meal the evening before a show, and
then go out after the show for something good.  Tonight would be no
exception.  It looked like we would be having rice, salads, the chicken,
and something for dessert.

   Mom told me that I had time for a short nap, if I wanted.  It seemed
like a good idea - it would be a long night.  I kicked off my shoes, and
flopped on the bed.  A few seconds later, I woke up to the sound of my
mother calling me to come down and eat.

   I quickly washed my hands, then headed down.  I was hungry (hey, gimme a
break!  I'm a growing boy), but I kept my portions small.  I did not want
to add digestive problems to the combination of pre-show jitters and
uncomfortable nakedness I would be feeling.  Our conversation over the food
was also light.  Dad mentioned the fact that there would be changes to the
procedures of the Program Committee at our school, but we wouldn't see much
of a difference.  I mentioned the HHS DVD and release forms, and that they
were on my desk upstairs.  We had discussed them a little yesterday, so
they were not surprised.  Mom complained of a circuit design at work which
was not cooperating.  Pretty much the usual family chatter.

   We had small pieces of apple pie for dessert, with the understanding
that there would be other treats after the show.  We just had different
ideas of where those treats would be.

   "About that party after the show...  have you thought about it?"

   "Yes.  And I still plan to give it a pass.  I haven't gone to any other
school related party in the two years I've been there, or even the three
years I was in middle school.  So what makes you think I would suddenly
change that for any party?  Much less one I would have to attend stark
naked?" I dropped my fork to the plate.  Suddenly, even that little piece
of pie wasn't all that attractive.

   "We thought...  after your week in the Program...  well, most people
feel more social...  we thought you might change your mind." They were
almost talking over each other, verbally stumbling while trying to get it
out.  These were two highly educated, successful, confident adults, but
they were reduced to babbling.

   "In case you hadn't noticed, I'm not 'most people.' If anything, I am
less social now than I was a week ago, less comfortable with even brief
casual nudity, and according to the questionnaire I had to fill out, less
sexual.  I would have nothing to gain by going to the party under normal
circumstances.  But going there tonight, stark naked at that, would be like
pouring salt in a large open wound.  No thank you!"

   I dove deeper in my safe place, slowed my breathing, and generally
calmed myself down.  "What is it about that stupid party that has the
school - and you - so worked up?"

   "Well," my dad started, "it's like this.  You are up for that award. 
And there is a lot of attention on the school and on you because of what
happened Monday.  If you win that award later this year, that would reflect
well on the school.  They would ride the coattails of your glory.  So it's
in their best interest to do whatever they ethically can to help you win
that award.  They feel that pictures of you at that party would help the
cause."

   "And they have reminded us that it would benefit you, as well." Mom
continued.  "In addition to the national recognition, there is a very
generous scholarship and a lot of prizes.  And with the exception of a
couple of religious schools, every college and university in the country
looks very favorably on such winners.  In the ten years they've run the
award, every one of the top three winners has gotten into his or her first
choice school."

   "It's no good," I snorted.  "If they don't have enough already, the
party pictures wouldn't help.  And even if they would, photos of me having
a miserable time would be counterproductive!"

   "The purpose of these parties is to pay attention to each other, and I
don't like attention.  Sure, I like people paying attention to the
Magician, but he isn't me.  And now you've let it slip that there would be
even more focus, more attention than usual for such things.  No thank you.
You're my parents, and I suppose you could force me to go.  But you're
intelligent people, for adults, and you know it would not turn out the way
you wish it would.  Or the way the school people wish it would.  Excuse
me." With that, I stood up and headed upstairs for a quick shower.



   EMILY

   When I arrived at Art Materials, my heart sank.  The table, camera, and
screen might be ambiguous, but the lounger next to the table could only
mean one thing: live casting model.  All things considered, it would
probably be me.  The only question was north or south?  And if south, front
or back?  Or both?

   Of course, I was wrong about all but the model part.  John ended up in
the chair, with green gloop (alginate) on his face and white gloop
(plaster) over that.  Then we talked about lost wax casting, which is
pretty cool.  All too soon, John was free, we had our weekend assignment
and the materials we would need, and it was time to go.  Ms.  Johnson told
John to stop by the office before leaving, and wished us well in the show.

   On our way out the door, I braced myself for our (hopefully) last naked
walk down that hall.  "One last time!" I told myself.  Out loud.  Oops.

   John nodded thoughtfully.  Mostly, it was the usual Friday frenzy.  But
none of the nymphs or satyrs approached us.  Some people greeted us as they
(or we) rushed by.  But all they did was compliment us on the morning show
or wish us luck for tonight.

   An irrational part of me was disappointed.

   At the office, John got a large envelope.  He told me it was the video
from Health and Humiliation, Sexual, and the release forms to let the world
see it.  Thinking about what he had told me about yesterday's class, I had
this horrible image in my mind.  "Ooh, I would love to be there when your
folks review THAT video.  Just to see their faces!"

   "Good.  You can take my place." he muttered.

   When we got to the front door, there was a mob outside.  I was worried
about what was going on, since it was far bigger than any Friday crowd I
had seen.  As we watched, a couple of the midweek draftees went out and
quietly, if somewhat nervously, dressed.  With the exception of a friend of
theirs, the crowd ignored them completely.  I saw Susan near the middle of
the crowd, frantically frolicking in a frenzy of feeling hands, mouths, and
other assorted body parts.  A couple of others were engaging in similar
activities, if somewhat less spectacularly.  But the crowd as a whole
seemed to see them as a side issue.  Nothing more than an amusing
distraction.  They were waiting for something else.  And I had a horrible
idea that it was us.

   I almost turned and ran, but instead I just dived deep in my safe place.
That helped me calm down a little.  If they were waiting for us, they
weren't really waiting for US.  They were waiting for the Magicians.

   I got my Magician ready, and we moved out.  The crowd tensed in
anticipation when they saw it was us.  I had brief visions of them tearing
us apart for some reason, but that didn't happen.  We took a step toward
the clothes, and the mood shifted.  They looked disappointed, cheated. 
With a glance at each other, we turned back as the Magicians.

   One of the boys at the front of the crowd had a reputation as a perv.  I
palmed a load from my bag, then stepped up to him.  "Eeeew!  What is that
sticking out of your nose?" I reached up with both hands, holding his nose
with one and pulling with the other.  I pulled out the traditional chain of
silks, each one tied to the next.  When I came to the end, I pretended to
have trouble getting it out.  When I finally pulled it free, it was the
panties I had made from a couple of silks.  The silks were small to begin
with, so the panties were rather a briefer cut than I wear.

   Then I delivered the punchline: "If you have to sniff them, at least
hold on to them while you're doing it!" I tossed the bundle of silks over
my shoulder to John.  My victim turned almost as red as the panties.  His
friends laughed, recognizing that I had scored a bullseye.

   John stepped around me, dressed from the waist down.  While he
distracted the crowd with a couple of effects, I got dressed in peace.  I
grabbed his shirt, and stepped up beside him just as he was dropping a
rubber snake in his bag, to the laughter of the crowd.  He finished
dressing, and we bowed.  The crowd was happy, and went back to playing with
the naked Participants and waiting for other entertainers.

   We headed toward the street, to walk home.  Susan's mother was there,
looking at Susan playing with the crowd (and vice versa).  One look at her
face was enough to convince us that we wanted to avoid her.  We split up,
and looped around to head for our homes.

   When I got home, there were messages from my parents saying that they
would be home soon, and asking me to preheat the oven and start making a
salad for dinner.  We would have something light, like we always do before
my shows.  I always had a suspicion that they snuck off for more food
between the time they dropped me off and the beginning of the show, but I
could never prove it.

   I was slicing some tomatoes for the salad, when Mom came in.  She took a
baking dish covered with foil from the refrigerator, and slid it into the
oven.  Then Dad came home, and between them they kinda squeezed me out of
the kitchen.  They suggested I nap or otherwise get ready for the long
night.

   After the way the day had gone, a nap sounded wonderful.

   It must have been the shortest nap on record, but I did feel better.  I
was being called to dinner, so some time must have passed.

   I washed my hands, and splashed a little water on my face to wake up
more.  Then I went down to eat.  Dinner was nice, with the usual family
small talk, until near the end.  Then they dropped the bomb: the party.  I
knew I shouldn't have agreed to "think about it." But to be honest, I had
thought about it.  And I still didn't see any reason to go.  Lots of
reasons not to go, but no real reason to go.  I told them so.

   They were not happy.  But their arguments were almost as though they
were arguing against it.  It pretty much boiled down to I could get a lot
of attention from my peers, in an informal setting.  How could they have
lived with me for all of these years, and made that mistake?

   "I don't WANT that attention.  I don't LIKE that attention.  That is why
I didn't want to go before I got dragged into the program by that
scheming..."

   "Language!"

   "I didn't say it.  If I never wanted that attention under normal
circumstances, dressed and all that, what in the name of all mysteries
makes you think I would want to do so stark raving naked?" Ok, so it wasn't
a good sentence.  It got the point across.  I think.

   They tried stuttering about the Program and growth and whatnot.  I told
them about the questionnaire, and how it rubbed my nose in the fact that
the Program had the opposite of the desired effect on me.  That party was
pretty much totally what I did NOT want.

   I pretty much lost my appetite.  I excused myself and went upstairs.  I
grabbed my robe and headed for the bathroom.  I cleaned off my makeup, then
stepped into a nice, hot shower.  I thoroughly washed my body and my hair,
and gingerly did my face.  The bruise was still very tender.

   As I washed, I wondered.  A part of me did want to go to that stupid
party.  Naked or not.  But every time I thought of being there, my mind
filled with half-seen images of bad things happening to me, to the others
there, or to both.  That wistful part of me would just have to be
disappointed.

   Then I had to fight another battle.  Part of me didn't want to bother
dressing at all.  I would just have to undress when we got there.  The rest
of me wanted every second of being clothed I could get.  I compromised,
with a long, soft dress and no underwear.  I quickly brushed my hair out,
and I was ready to go.

   Mom drove me to the theater.  They would both be in the audience, but I
had to be there early for notes and setup.  She dropped me off at the back
door to the theater, and waited as I opened the door, slid out of my dress,
and vanished inside.

   I signed in, and noticed that John was not there yet.  I went over to
our stuff, unlocked the crates, and started setting up the equipment.  John
got there just as I was getting ready to assemble Zig zag.  Good timing. 
We quickly had that put together and checked, and got the other things out.


   We were about two thirds done when the call went out to gather for
notes. There were two cancellations: a singer and the ventriloquist.  There
was no mention of reasons, but people were saying that the dummy got
damaged at school.  I hoped they were talking about the one made of wood
and cloth.  There were reminders about the order of acts, intermission, and
the need to stay for the awards.  We were advised that we might need to
fill a bit.  We assured them that we could do so.

   We went back to finish setting up, and otherwise getting ready.  We took
turns going to the makeup room to cover our bruises and get our faces (and
bodies) ready to look "natural" under the stage lights.

   Then we settled in to wait.

   When the show started, we watched parts of it from the wings.  We took
turns, so our things would be protected the whole time.  The announcer
explained the two categories of entrants, and said that the amateurs would
be going first.  He also mentioned the withdrawals.

   The Irish musicians went first.  They were very good, and very well
received.  The singer that went next had some problems due, I suspect, to
nerves.  She got some polite applause, but she looked very unhappy when she
got off the stage.  We all tried reassuring her, but she knew she blew it.
The two tap dancers were split by the wannabe pop band.  What the acts
lacked in polish they made up for in enthusiasm, and the audience gave each
nice rounds of applause.  The jugglers got a lot of laughs with their sex
toys and gags, and were clearly a crowd favorite.  The last group in that
category was the Brass trio.  They only technically qualified, since their
first competition appearance would be a few weeks later.  That actually
made them a good act for their place in the program, since they marked the
transition between the amateurs and the competitors.  Both of their numbers
were very well received.

   The announcer proclaimed the beginning of the competitor portion of the
show, introducing Susan and mentioning some of her competition honors.  She
would be the last act before intermission due, in part, to the (former)
influence of her mother.

   The best that could be said for her performance was that it gave the
singer a reason to feel better.  Her face was set in what we call a "stage
rictus", an exaggerated, mechanical smile which did not reflect the rest of
her face.  Actually, her whole routine was mechanical, like she was
sleepwalking through it.  I wondered why she would stop and stand at some
points, and someone commented that those were the times when the lights in
her costume would be doing things.  She hadn't bothered to rework her act
to account for her nudity.  Or hadn't been able to.

   I had a horrible thought, and signed to John to come over and bring the
extinguisher.  He agreed, and hurried over.  Almost a step too late.

   Susan got to the part where she pushed a button on the baton and the
ends burst into flame.  But her timing was off, and she brushed one end
across part of her hair, setting it on fire.  She didn't seem to notice,
but was startled to see two naked boys rushing at her from opposite sides
of the stage.  She dropped the baton, which rolled against a curtain. 
Perry got to her first, spraying her hair.  John curved around and sprayed
the baton and curtain.  The curtains were flame retardant, but not entirely
fireproof.

   The front curtain closed, and the house lights came up.  The announcer
informed the audience that it was intermission, and refreshments were
available in the lobby.

   Susan's parents arrived almost immediately.  Her mother seemed almost as
out of it as she was.  Her father took control of the situation.  He asked
me to take Susan into the shower to rinse the foam off and make sure the
hair was not smoldering.  There were showers in the stage bathrooms, so we
took her in the boys' room (because of the Program, and because it would
let him come in with us.  She would need family there.

   I started the water and made sure it was lukewarm.  He held her while I
slipped off my shoes and socks, then I took her under the water.  While we
were under there, her father was on the phone to someone (I assume her
doctor or someone like that), and someone brought in a stack of gym towels.
I thoroughly soaked her hair, and let the water run over her.  She came
around a bit, and pulled away from me.  I reassured her, and pointed out
her father, who was standing there with a towel in hand.

   I turned off the water, and she let him wrap a towel around her.  A
quick look showed that her scalp seemed undamaged, but she had what looked
like a mild sunburn on one shoulder.  She took another towel and wrapped
her hair in a turban.  Her father told her he was taking her to the
doctor's office, just in case.  He joked about the need to pick up some
tranquilizers for her mother while he was at it.

   He thanked me, and left.  I used a couple of the remaining towels to dry
off and get the worst of my hair.  As I stepped out of the restroom, I saw
John and Perry talking to the resource officer, apparently giving
statements.  Mary came up to me, and marched me to one of the dressing
rooms.  She asked about Susan's condition, and I told her.  When we got
there, she got out a brush and a blow dryer, and ordered me to sit.  I
saluted her and sat.  She dried and styled my hair and, when she was done,
it ended up looking better than when I got to the theater.  I thanked her,
and she gave me a quick hug.  Then she reminded me to redo my makeup.  Face
and body.  Damn.

   Well, at least I had time.  I went back to our stuff, to get my makeup
kit.  John and Perry were there, talking.  They asked me about Susan and I
told them what I knew.  The RO came over and asked to get a statement from
me.  I asked if he could do that while I did my makeup.  He shrugged and
said he didn't know any reason he couldn't.  We went to the makeup room,
and I started cleaning my face while we talked.  I told him what I knew,
and he asked a few questions.  He complimented me on my quick action, and
wished me well for our act.

   The intermission was over, and Perry had started his act.  He still had
the "how many licks" written on him, but had a variety of other decorations
all over his body.  He used some of them in his act.  He had borrowed our
small table from this morning, and had a variety of props on it.  His act
was stand up comedy, with props.  He had a lot of jokes about the Program.

   The audience roared.  He got a standing ovation at the end of his act.
Next came the ribbon dancers.  Their act was great, as well.  The audience
liked it.

   But the next act got a reaction just by coming onstage.  The string
quartet walked on, carrying their instruments.  At first glance, they
appeared to be dressed in very similar outfits.  All four of them.  Susan's
mother marched up to the judges' table and said something, with much waving
of her hands.  By that time, I noticed that two of the outfits were just
body paint, very skillfully applied.  Obviously, they had made good use of
Perry's note.

   The audience loved their music.  After their second number, there were a
few seconds of silence, then growing applause building into a standing
ovation.  We clapped right along with the audience.

   Then it was our turn.  A couple of "stage hands" helped us take the
things out on stage, then we began.  We walked to the two chairs with the
costumes on them.  John told the audience that he wanted to show them the
costumes we would have used, if the Program hadn't taken us in its sinister
clutches.  He played that last bit for laughs, but it was more than a
little true for the two of us.  After we put them back on the chairs, he
picked up the jacket, showed the empty arm to the audience, and intoned in
an overdramatic fashion "Nothing up my sleeve!"

   The audience laughed, then gasped briefly as he was suddenly holding a
black cane with a white grip and a silver tip.  I quipped that some
magicians needed an extra big wand to make up for other things.  Another
laugh.  We then seemed to be looking around for something, and not finding
it.

   "Well, if we can't find it, you'll have to make one." I said.  He looked
annoyed, then went over to the costumes again, He made a show of patting
them down, as though he was searching them.  Then, with a crooked smile, he
held up the jacket again, and repeated the "nothing up my sleeve" bit. 
There were a few chuckles from the audience, especially from the shills
(our parents).  He came back over to the table, and I raised a red cloth.
He waved the cane over it and said the magic words "Safety First!" I
dropped the cloth, and there was the fire extinguisher.  He took it and put
it down beside the table, to the applause of the crowd.

   I removed the cloth and put a pan and lid on the table.  He patted his
body as though searching his pockets, then remembering he didn't have any.
He went to the chair again, lifted the jacket, and the screen above his
head came alive showing a familiar cartoon moose saying "Nothing up my
sleeve...  Presto!" The screen went blank, as the cane turned into a lit
candle.

   He came back to the table, and lit the contents of the pan.  He looked a
little alarmed, and smothered the flames with the lid of the pan.  When he
removed the lid of the pan, it was full of flowers, sticking up much higher
than the pan top.  In fact, most of them were good fakes, but there were
some real ones in the middle of the arrangement.  He pulled out one of the
real ones and tossed it to one of the female judges.  Not to be outdone, I
took two more, and tossed them to male judges.  Then I stuck my tongue out
at him in a comical way.  The audience laughed again.  He just shrugged,
and as he did, the candle turned into a bright red silk.  He handed the
silk to me as though it was a peace offering.  I took it, then showed it
was really the silk panties.  I held them in front of me, then we looked at
each other and said "Program."

   I vanished the panties as he walked over to the chairs again.  He held
up the jacket again, and I waved encouragement to the audience.  While the
shills started it, by the end most were joining in the "up my sleeve line"
amid their laughter.  He walked back to me, then looked at my pussy in
apparent confusion.  "What is that?" he asked, pointing.

   He reached down and apparently started pulling what he had found.  At
first, he was bracing his hand against me, but my hand took the place of
his as he pulled out a ten foot string of flags.  Then it seemed to be
stuck.  After a couple of pulls, out came a two foot long dildo.

   "That's where I left that!" I deadpanned.  The audience laughed loudly
at that one.

   "Maybe we should see what else there is to find!" He led me over to the
Zigzag cabinet.  I stood inside, and he started closing the doors.  He
closed the bottom one, and I stuck my feet partway out through the holes.
He closed the door covering my lower middle, and I stuck a hand through the
hole in it.  He tried to shut the next door up, but it bounced off my
breasts and flew back open.  "OW!  Watch it!  I'm still growing those!" The
audience laughed.

   He made a great show of struggling to close the door (I'm really not all
THAT big), but I twitched in pain.  "Hurt them again, and I'll have your
balls!" He turned around and crossed his legs in a comic overreaction.  He
turned back, and closed the top door.  He turned the whole thing around,
showing there were no mirrors or the like.

   He put in the transparent separators, then commented "Well, we don't
need this part.  Pull in your feet." I did so and he pushed that section of
the cabinet to the other side.  I stuck the feet back out, and wiggled the
toes.  He made a show of bending down and looking upward.  He shook his
head, and stood back up.  Then he pushed the part with my chest over to the
side.

   Once it was over there, it popped open again.  While looking down at the
lower section, he reached over and pushed it shut.  "Hey!" He stood up,
opened the top part (revealing my head) and said he was sorry.  "You will
be!" I replied.  "Now put me back together!"

   He turned the cabinet around, a full 360, then slid it back together. 
He pulled out the separators, then opened the doors to show me standing
there.

   He helped me down from the cabinet, and I walked over to the table. 
Then I looked at him, and said "OK, let me have them!"

   "What?"

   "You heard me before, and you know what I mean.  You did it again, so
they're mine!" I pointed at his crotch.

   He sighed, reached down, and pulled off his cock and balls.  He joined
me behind the table and put it down.

   I repeated the lengthy moonglow cock act, complete with it dancing on
the top edge of the cloth, trying to get down my cleavage, and generally
floating behind and partly above the cloth.  When I was lowering it to the
table, I dropped the cloth and it had vanished.  At the same time, John
jerked as though he had been hit, and when he straightened back up he was
seen to be back together again.

   We went for the corny finish.  He turned away from the audience,
revealing words on his butt.  One cheek said "The" and the other said
"End".

   We got a long standing ovation.

   We quickly cleared away our stuff, to make room for the final act:
Bridget's dancers.  They were pumped and ready.  It was clear that the
smiles on their faces were genuine as they moved through the figures of
their first dance.

   We quickly moved our stuff to our area, and came back to watch.  By the
second dance, they had the audience clapping with the music, and at the end
their applause seemed longer and louder than even ours.  Or is that my
insecurity talking?

   They were so excited as they came off the stage that the three of them
hugged the two of us, and we all jumped up and down.  Bridget gave John a
big kiss, then they all ran off to their dressing room.

   We started breaking our things down and putting them away, while the
announcer called for a round of applause for all the acts, and then talked
about the judging.  By the time our award was announced, we were done
packing.  We went out, and accepted our award, then walked back.  When all
the awards had been given, all the performers (except Susan) came out in
one long broken line.  Perry and the brasses deliberately left an open spot
for our fallen performer.

   The announcer finished with acknowledgements of the judges, the crews,
and himself, then told us all that word had come that Susan's injuries were
superficial, and she was expected to recover quickly and completely.  He
wished everyone goodnight, and the curtain closed.

   JOHN

   Finally!  I thought we would never get back off that stage.  I smelled
politics behind the prize announced for us, "Best Representation of the
Program" indeed.  On the other hand, that kiss and hug from Bridget was
real.  And very nice.  It also reminded me to talk to my folks about my
promise to do something with her next week.

   Perry came over and congratulated us on our act.  We returned the
compliment.  We talked about some of the highlights and lowlights of the
show, and he gave us the empty fire extinguisher.  He did complain that I
stole his thunder with my "ending", but he laughed while doing it.

   Our parents showed up and, after praising the show, went to set up our
departure.  We started moving our things to the door.  Soon they were back,
and as we moved things to the door, they moved them to the cars.  We got
the final loads to the door, stepped outside with them, and quickly
dressed. That felt good.  We saw the cars, and carried the loads to them.

   After the cars were loaded, they asked us again (for the last time, I
sincerely hoped) whether we would go to the party.  We made it clear that
we would only go if they forced us to, and that would be counterproductive
in the extreme.

   That settled, we went out for a more suitable celebration.  We got our
parents' reviews of the acts over our elaborate sundaes and simple drinks.

   After that, we all went to our house and unloaded the cars.  We took
some of the crates downstairs, but most of them just ended up in the living
room for the night.  We said goodnight, and the Watsons went home.

   I was exhausted.  I went upstairs, and cleaned off the makeup.  I
slipped into some pjs, and fell into bed.

   End Part 11