Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 The Magnificent Mysterians, Naked In School by DrBill

   Part 4

   TUESDAY

   JOHN

   Oh, please let me open my eyes and find out it was all a bad dream!

   Shit.

   I'm wearing clothes in bed.  I never wear clothes in bed.  And the
saddest truth of all: I'm writing in this stupid journal.

   Last night was not all that much fun.  My parents were so eager, so
intensely looking for signs that the fracking Program had changed my whole
outlook on life, that I retreated into my safe place.  And spent most of
the night there.

   But it didn't take long for the focus to change from the question of why
their LATEST hope for a miracle didn't pan out.  But to understand how it
happened, you need to know a couple of things about them.

   My dad is an overenthusiastic supporter of the Program.  He sort of has
to be.  He is a vice president of the company that supplied the custom
software the Program Committee (and quite a few other PCs) uses.  In fact,
he is in charge of that part of the company.

   My mom is no less a supporter, but her job as an Electronics Engineer
was completely unrelated.  It was useful, however.  The few times I have
needed electronics in my props or gimmicks, she has been able to help. 
Even better, her company might be able to manufacture the IVDs for us. 
They did a run of one of our more popular small scale tricks, and did a
good job of it.  It hadn't made Emily or me rich, but our college funds got
a good shot in the arm.

   She was also as active in school affairs as her job would allow.

   After I made them wait that hour, they insisted that I describe my day
over dinner.  Joy.  I made it a point to keep eating as I talked.  When I
got to the part about the nature of the Selected group, they both lost it.
But for different reasons.

   When I described the seemingly nonrandom nature of the group, Dad got a
frown.  When I mentioned that it included four of the top 5 rated acts in
the talent show, Mom asked who the other was.

   "Susan Conway, and her Flaming Batons."

   "Isn't she the daughter of Bertha Conway, the PTO President?"

   "The same.  And as PTO President, she is also on the Selection
Committee."

   Dad excused himself and made a quick phone call.  I could hear his "Why
wasn't I told?" two rooms away.  All the while, Mom was shaking her head
and muttering "The Pageant all over again."

   Dad returned and announced "They are investigating the selection."

   "I knew that."

   "Why didn't you tell me?"

   "You rushed out of here before I had a chance to.  And it gets worse."

   "How?"

   "Bridget was named as my partner."

   "Bridget who?"

   "Bridget Donnache.  The diplomat's daughter."

   "That can't be right.  She was supposed to be exempt."

   "That's what she said.  But Ms.  Ackerman looked in the file, and it
said that the board had denied the exemption."

   "That's insane.  It could create an international incident!"

   "I kinda got that impression."

   "Do they know who did it?"

   "There are two popular theories going around school.  Either it was Mrs.
Conway, trying to boost Susan's chances, or it is someone out to frame her
for trying to do so."

   "Well, my company has one of our best people on it.  I should have a
preliminary report in my email sometime tonight.  If it is not already
there."

   "As they say in the cop shows you boys like to watch, she had motive,
means, and opportunity.  But it does seem more than usually stupid if she
did do it."

   I told them about the distract and run Emily and I used to get Bridget
to the nurse, and about the hearings.  I told them about the thanks we got.
I told them about the field test of the VaZap, and the FOSA
almost-endorsement for it and the Tunnel Snake.  I mentioned to Mom that I
would need some place to do the production runs for me, and she said that
her employer had the capacity.  She knew the designs, because she had
helped me with them.

   I complained about the effect on the magic act and the other acts, and
the other bad effects on everyone involved.  I concluded that it was
largely a bad thing, especially now, and especially for Emily and me.

   I acknowledged that it might be profitable, if we can keep coming up
with related tricks and products.  But on a personal level, it was a
disaster.

   And it was likely to get worse.  Word will get around about the part we
played in getting those boys expelled and prosecuted.  They had a lot of
friends.

   By this time we were finishing dessert: Dad's fresh baked brownies and
ice cream.  I took my plate to the sink, then went upstairs to do my
homework.

   A couple of hours later, I was just finishing up my homework.  As I had
worked on it, I was gradually able to come back out of the safe place.  Dad
came to my room to let me know that they had pulled quite a bit of useful
information for the investigation, including some direct indications of
tampering.  While looking at the papers in his hands, he asked me to name
the selected people.  Some, he briefly looked at the list and made a mark
for.  Others he apparently searched the list for and was unable to find.

   He thanked me and reminded me it was a school night.  He asked whether I
wanted to watch some tv before turning in, and I declined.

   I sat back down at my computer and started to surf the web.  I checked
my email, looked at a couple of my favorite magic sites, and then got down
to serious business.  I read a couple of stories, looked at some pictures,
and filled what seemed like half a box of tissues.

   I went and showered, and then did something I rarely do.  I put some
clothes on for bed.  Something in me just rebelled at the notion of
sleeping naked.  I called a goodnight down to my parents, set my mind to
contemplate the magic act, and then promptly fell asleep.

   And now I'm awake.  And facing yet another day of the Program.  I am
just thrilled beyond words.  (For the humor impaired: that last bit was
irony).

   I was too unhappy to make use of my morning wood.  I went to the
bathroom and took care of my morning business, then came back to my room. I
chose an outfit from some of my old costume pieces.  They were usually worn
over other clothes, and were designed for some quick-change effects. 
Unlike most of the others, they looked like ordinary street clothes.  I put
them on, and headed down to breakfast.

   EMILY

   The trick would be to get undressed very quickly, without much motion.
Preferably at a time when most people were paying attention to someone
else. The important parts are location and motion.  People's peripheral
vision is more sensitive to motion than to details.  If they are paying
attention somewhere else, and the movements seem pretty much as expected,
they won't notice much of anything.

   My dress for the morning was actually a swim wrap.  I normally wore it
over a swimsuit, as intended.  It looked like a fairly nondescript summer
dress.  Only a little out of place this early in the year.  I had another,
more complete outfit in my backpack, in case of trouble.  It would live in
my locker the rest of the week.

   That settled, I took a moment to type my thoughts about the changes to
the act, print a copy to take with me, and email a copy to John.  I checked
the loads in my book bag and the pull in the backpack, replaced the IVDs in
my book bag with new ones, and inserted a Tunnel Snake into myself.  Then I
went down to breakfast.

   At breakfast, I was told that there had been phone calls from the
families of a couple of the finger gang, apologizing for their sons'
actions and asking to speak with me before things got finalized.  I
suspected I would have a couple of days for that, at least.  There was also
a message for me to come to the office when I got to school.  That was
useful.

   My mom dropped me off at school on her way to work.  I used the ride to
go deeply into my safe place, and to plan a little more.  The most
distracting Participant arrival would probably be Perry.  He would want to
make an entrance and make a joke of it.  And whatever attention he didn't
pull would be turned on Mary with her pretty face and fit, dancer's body.

   I would move along the edge of the crowd nearest the doors, normally a
more visible position.  When I got close enough and they were distracted
enough, I could slip out of the wrap, vanish it, and slip in through the
door.

   I felt bad doing that to Dave.  I would have to apologize later.  But he
would have the upperclassmen there for help.  And I needed to get to the
office.

   I have always admired my magic classmates who turned to street magic. 
In a stage show, you control almost everything but the audience reaction.
And if that is bad, you are still separated from them.  But with street
magic, everything and everyone is right there.  lots of things can go
wrong. Your effects have to have a 360 degree view.  And if there is a bad
reaction from the audience, you are in the middle of it.  You plan
everything to the nth degree.  You practice.  You use every angle you can
get.

   I had everything planned out.

   It almost worked.

   As I moved up along the crowd, John was a short way behind me.  We moved
along the wall as planned.  We loosened our clothes as planned, in
anticipation of our cue.  The crowd responded as we expected to Perry and
Mary, and when we were sure of that focus, we made our moves.  Our clothes
vanished into our backpacks right on cue, and we moved toward the door.

   But when push came to shove, it happened literally.  Just beside me, one
boy was pushing another aside to get a better look at Mary.  The other
shoved him back - right into me!  It didn't take him long to figure out he
was tangled up in a naked girl.  John helped me get to my feet right away,
but the damage was done.  The commotion drew every eye in that part of the
crowd.  We fought our way through, repeating the statement that we needed
to get to the office.  Very important.  We used as much as we could of the
OBL posture and actions.  There were hands all over my body, and more than
a few on John.  I don't know about John, but I was sinking deeper and
deeper into my safe place with every push and stroke.

   We finally got to the door just as Perry was finishing his show.  He
opened the door for us, then stood blocking it for us while telling a joke.
Bless him!

   "Thanks.  Help Dave." was all I could quietly say before we were cut off
by the door.

   We made our way to the office.  If anyone tried to make requests, we
were so deep in our safe places that we didn't hear them.

   JOHN

   Well, I suppose that could have been worse.  While it seemed like miles,
we were only about eight feet from the door when Emily got knocked over. 
It couldn't have taken more than a couple of minutes to get there, despite
the feeling of hours.

   Once inside, we ignored another gauntlet.  Between the focus of the OBL
and extent to which we were deep in our safe places, I don't know whether
anyone tried a request or not.

   When we got to the office, we were told that Principal Murrow was
expecting us.  I knocked on his door, and he invited us in.  He offered us
seats, and thanked us for coming.  His first order of business was an
apology to me.  While they have provisions for replacing a partner who is
absent on Monday morning, or flees when named a participant, the unusual
nature and timing of the situation with Bridget made that impractical. 
Even then, they were going to go with their "plan B" and give me a partner
they had selected.  But she was absent today, out with a sore throat and
fever.  Even with the new antibiotics and antivirals, it was best to avoid
spreading a preventable infection throughout the school.  In the end, this
meant that he was without a partner for the week.  The others would be
there for support, as would the faculty and administration.

   From deep within my safe place, I said that I understood.  In a strange
way, it helped.  Without a partner, I was more flexible.  I could practice
my practical invisibility that much more easily, without as much worry. 
Now if the others would take over the task of supporting Dave, Emily would
also be free.  I wonder how close the quartet are?

   He turned to Emily and offered her recorder back to her.  He told us
that the police had downloaded and sealed the file, so they didn't need it
anymore.  The school also had a copy, for use in the disciplinary
proceedings.

   The next thing was that our statements from yesterday were ready for us
to read and sign.  First, there were the transcripts of our testimony about
the whole thing with Bridget.  Then there were statements about the VaZap
demonstration.  My Bridget thing was longer, but my VaZap statement was
less than two pages.  I figured that if we took our time reading the
statements before signing them, we would have virtually empty halls as we
made our way (late) to class.  Emily seemed to have the same idea.

   Shortly after the first bell rang, Principal Murrow told us that he
would be making some statements about the incidents in the morning
announcements.  He went on to say that we might be more comfortable if we
were already in class when they were read, rather than drawing attention to
ourselves in connection with the statements.  We agreed, and quickly
skimmed and signed the statements.

   We didn't need the OBL this time.  It was more like the mad scramble.  I
reached the door to my Algebra homeroom just as the bell started ringing. I
rode the tide of bodies through the door and went to my desk.

   The beginning of class was routine.  Calling roll, reminders about the
Talent Show and tryouts for some teams, a change in the lunch menu, that
sort of thing.  Then the speakers came to life.

   It was Principal Murrow in all his terrible glory.  Well, not really. 
It was him, but his tone was only a little more emotional than his usual
speeches.  He started out with a brief announcement that one of the people
called to participate in the Program was selected by mistake, and has been
reclassified as exempt.  He pointed out that none of this was her fault,
and reminded people about the rules against harassment.

   He then went to the more serious matter.  He said that the school had
officially become aware of a highly inappropriate competition among certain
students, aimed at Program Participants.  He pointed out that members of
one such group had been suspended, and were now facing expulsion and
prosecution.  The school takes the safety and well being of all students
very seriously, and participation in the Program is not an invitation to
sexual assault.  Touching of Participants, ANY touching of participants,
must first be requested.  If they say no, then the answer is no.  If they
fail to answer at all, the answer is no.  And if you are ever tempted to
lie to the police about such an incident, you should think about the boys
who were removed from this school in handcuffs for such an attempt.  And if
you think we are bluffing, ask those boys and their families.  Some of them
are facing felony charges for the actions you trivialize.  And so on.

   I was very deep into my safe place by this time, but it didn't appear
that anyone in the class associated the announcement with me.  It was time
for the regular parts of class.  We turned in the homework, got back our
previous homework (I missed part credit on one problem.  Damn.), and got
down to work.  We were dealing with graphing.  Mr.  Brown had a reputation
for using Participants for sources of data to graph.  He looked at me
speculatively for a moment, shook his head, and had us open our books to a
page with data to graph.  The rest of the class went without incident.

   My History class was a little too close to my Algebra class for a direct
OBL, since it would leave too much time before class started.  I did an OBL
to my locker, which was in the wrong direction, and from there to History.
I knew I was attracting more attention than usual, and much more than I
wanted, so I sank even deeper into my safe place.

   Mr.  Bailey looked concerned as I took my seat.  But then his face
changed to a soft satisfaction.  Uh oh.

   Class started as usual.  Then we got to a description of a mine
disaster. He called me to the front of the room as he continued to discuss
the reactions of the families, friends, and coworkers.  He read discussions
of the range of reactions, from hysterical weeping to a shock so profound
that some claimed the people's very souls had left their bodies.  He
indicated my face and posture, and invited the class to imagine more than
half a town walking around like this.  He waved me back to my seat.  I
recorded the rest of the discussion, and paid little conscious attention. I
imagined a moonglow variant with my "removed" genitals, and how to set it
up.  Every now and then Mr.  Bailey would glance my way and the worried
look would return briefly.

   My next class was English.  It was in the same part of the building, so
I really needed to kill some time.  I did an OBL to my locker again, and
traded out some books.  As I headed to the class, I realized that I was
still too early for comfort.  Nature provided me with an answer, although
an uncomfortable one.  I ducked into the nearest girls' restroom, to do my
business.  There were a number of girls in there, but a couple of the
stalls were open.  Deep and snug in my safe place, I lifted the seat and
did what I needed to.  I took a certain satisfaction from leaving the seat
up when I flushed and went to the sink.  Luckily, one of the sinks did not
have a mirror over it, so I was able to use that one to wash my hands.  I
tuned out the voices around me, letting my face stay slack.  Then I turned
with determination, and finished the OBL to English.

   After all that, I still arrived before the bell.  Bridget was there,
thoroughly clothed.  She had been talking to the teacher, but came rushing
to me as I stood by my desk, arranging the towel.  She thanked me again for
my help, and apologized for leaving me without a partner.  She then said
that her parents would like to thank me as well.  I suggested sometime
after school, somewhere away from the school.  She agreed that it would be
better that way.  She would also want to be inviting Emily.  I told her I
would let Emily know, when I saw her at lunch or in Art.  Just then the
bell rang, and we sat.

   Class was pretty much routine.  And again, Ms.  McMillan had no real way
to work me into the lesson plan.  What a pity.

   Even without that, I was deeply withdrawn into my safe place.  I think
my face showed something disturbing, or at least, something that disturbed
her.  Every time she glanced at me, her face fell a bit.  As the bell rang,
Bridget turned a concerned look at me and then went up to speak with her.
The two of them watched me leave, shaking their heads slightly.  I thought
I saw something glisten in one of Bridget's eyes.

   And now it's time for track.  Wonderful.

   Not.

   Normally, I kind of enjoy it.  I can stay in about the middle of the
pack on the distance runs, and be about as anonymous as I want.  But the
changing and showering were going to be another matter.

   EMILY

   I don't know if John got to class on time, but I didn't.  I wasn't very
late.  Roll hadn't even been called yet.  Even so, I was glad I had the
late slip from the office.  Mr.  Weber has a thing about tardies.  I
noticed that Dave was in his seat, and getting a bit of attention from
nearby girls.

   After roll call and the usual BS, the Voice of Doom sounded throughout
the school.  Ok, it was just Principal Murrow, but the effect was the same.
The room was suddenly quiet.  The announcement about Bridget made a couple
of people look at me questioningly.  But the bombshell about the arrests
and the reminders about asking really got things buzzing.  As I sank even
deeper into my safe place, I noticed a lot of people looking at me or
pointing at me as they talked.  Just what I need, even more attention.

   Mr.  Weber brought the class to order, had us turn in our homework, and
launched into the day's lesson.  High on my list of things I'll never use
in my life, we were going over diagramming sentences.  At least there
shouldn't be any way to tie naked students into that.

   At the end of class, I went to Dave and apologized for not being much of
a partner for him.  He was very understanding, and let me know he was
available if I needed him.  He also confided that he was starting to enjoy
parts of it.  We had to leave fairly quickly, to get to our next classes.

   I dropped into my safe place, and bulldozed my way to History.  Mr. 
Moyer started out by asking for the essays.  He made it a point to sort
through them and look at a few in particular.  Mine was one of them, and a
look of approval crossed his face.  He started in on a discussion of the
topic of treaties and laws.  Even though it was one of the more interesting
topics we'd covered so far, I kept myself deeply cocooned in my safe place.
A couple of times, when Mr.  Moyer looked my way, his face would briefly
sink from his usual level of enthusiasm for his subject.

   At the end of class, he asked me to stay behind for a moment.  I had
plenty of time to get to Geometry, so I was not too concerned.  He asked
whether I had seen Bridget yet.  I hadn't.  He told me she was back, and
fully clothed.  I let him know that we had been told that would happen.  He
complimented me on my essay.  I thanked him and left.

   The lope got me to class in time, but not too early.  I saw Perry
approaching the room, so I quickly slipped through the door ahead of him
and let him make his grand entrance.  Professional courtesy, and all that.
Besides, any attention I drew was quickly transferred to him.  And he was
definitely getting attention.  And from the looks of his face and erection,
he had been getting a lot of attention on the way here.

   Ms.  Lesmeister had barely asked whether he needed relief, when he
practically ran to the front of the room.  She got out the word "Who...?"
before most of the girls (and some of the boys) in class raised their
hands. Perry managed to look both strained and amused at the same time.  He
briefly looked at me, then at Ms.  Lesmeister, before choosing the girl
sitting to my left.  She practically skipped to the front of the room.

   She looked him in the eyes with a half grin, then dropped to her knees
for a better look at his package.  Gingerly using one finger and a thumb to
hold it, she turned it one way and the other as though examining it
carefully.  She took a couple of short, gentle strokes, then grinned again.
She brought her face close and sniffed the head.  She shrugged
theatrically, and stuck her tongue out to delicately taste the clear drop
which had gathered at the tip.  She then swirled her tongue around the
head, shifting her hand to a full handed grip around his shaft.  She slowly
moved her hand a short way up and down as she guided the head toward her
mouth.  She breathed gently on it, before slowly sliding her mouth over it.


   By this time Perry was going out of his mind, if his face was any
indication.  So were most of the other boys in the class.  And quite a few
of the girls.  Seconds after her mouth had completely engulfed his lower
head, he stiffened.  He started to say something, but she held up her free
hand to silence him.  He then jerked, which I took to mean he started
cumming.  She pulled it out and aimed it at her chest.  He doused her
blouse.  When he slowed to little more than a dribble, she stuck it back in
her mouth and sucked.  A moment later she pulled away, broadly licking her
lips.

   Perry looked poleaxed, and his knees started to buckle.  She helped him
to his seat, then flounced back to her seat, grinning.

   The whole thing only took about two minutes.  While it still seemed
pointless, she clearly had fun doing it.  She scooped a gob of the cum off
her front, and offered it to me.  I shook my head.  She offered it to the
boy on the other side of her, and he accepted.  She looked surprised as he
sucked her finger into his mouth and licked it clean.  I turned my
attention back to the front.

   Class itself was just more of the same about angles and polygons.  At
the end of class, she called Perry to her desk while I left.  I used the
OBL to get to my locker and swap books, then to get to Physical Science.

   When I got there, Dr.  Burns gestured me to his desk.  He apologized
profusely for what happened to me outside his door, and his inability to
see or stop it.  I accepted his apologies.  He also told me that I would be
given credit for the homework, since I had tried to get the assignment from
him.  I thanked him and went to my lab table.

   We went over the homework, and I got the general idea.  Then we got down
to the current lesson.  Any other week, and class would have been kind of
fun.  We used giant slinkys to show different kinds of waves and things
like reflection.  As it was, class went quickly enough.

   Class ended, and it was time for lunch.  I used the OBL to go to my
locker and drop off my books, then headed toward the place where I had
agreed to meet John.  We were going to use lunch to compare notes about
possible changes to the act.

   I turned a corner, and saw John.  He was headed toward a cluster of boys
surrounding a frightened and protesting Mary.  He spotted me, and with a
couple of gestures let me know he intended to use the cannon and asked me
to use my handcuffs on the apparent leader.  I gestured my agreement,
suggested I add my cannon, and headed in.  He agreed.

   JOHN

   PE made me very happy.

   Happy that I had missed it the day before.

   Walking into the locker room, I dove deeply into safety and made sure my
dead face was in face.  I also started the recorder, in the hopes of
enjoying some part of the images after I got home.  For now, though, it was
just people changing clothes.  Some reacted to me, some didn't.  Without
stopping, I moved to my temporary locker and opened it.  I hung my book bag
in a big locker, and added my shoes and socks.  I put on my jockstrap and
my running shoes and socks.  I locked the locker and headed outside.  I
knew the track was outside.  I had forgotten just how visible it was from
outside the school.  From the safety of deep inside, I noted the cars
driving by on the nearby street, less than twenty feet from the closest
part of the track.  I noticed the people on the sidewalk, even closer.  And
I noticed the students in the stands.  Of course, this was lunch period for
many of them.

   Warmups were not fun.  It is impressive how much those small PE shorts
protect you from the pebbles and other things on the ground.  You wouldn't
believe it, until you did exercises and stretches on the ground without
them.

   Once we actually started running, it was not so bad.  I kept to my usual
position in the middle of the pack.  I found that living in my safe place
was a lot like another runner getting into the zone.  I had more stamina,
and my breathing was nowhere near as labored as usual.

   We alternated days in that class.  One day we would do short distances
and wind sprints.  The other we would do 440's and above.  In that regard,
today suited me just fine.

   All too soon, the horn sounded, sending us toward the showers.  The
coaches were using air horns instead of whistles, in order to avoid
confusion with the emergency whistles.

   I trotted across the field, then walked the rest of the way to the
locker rooms.  Each step took me deeper into my safe place.  By the time I
reached the door, my dead face was in place, and my breathing was slow and
steady.  I again started the internal recorder, and acknowledged that the
people inside were just people doing routine activities, washing themselves
and changing their clothes.  There was nothing erotic or exciting about it.


   Nor about my own participation in the same activities.

   I walked to my locker, and opened it.  I skinned out of my jock and
slipped off my shoes and socks, tossing them inside.  I closed and locked
the door again, then went to shower.  Around me, many of the girls reacted.
Some hid themselves, but most of them came out again when they saw that I
didn't react to their presence or state of undress.  Others frankly stared
at my nakedness with interest.  They lost some of that interest as they saw
the lack of response in my face and down below.  Even those who started
with anger or other upset at my presence soon lost their steam.

   I found an empty stall and started my shower.  A few of the girls tried
to make some requests, but my appearance changed most of their minds.  The
rest accepted an unemotional "I'd rather you didn't" and left me alone.  I
finished washing, dried off, and dressed (such as it was).  I got a new
chair towel while I was there, and tucked it in my book bag.

   That done, I headed off to the place I'd agreed to meet Emily before we
went to lunch.  As I approached a corner in one of the less used hallways,
I heard a commotion.  I discretely looked around the corner, and saw a
group of boys, and one girl, surrounding a naked girl.  After a second, I
recognized her as Mary.  And she did not look happy.  In fact, she looked
frightened.  I turned on my recorder, checked the positioning of my bag,
and turned the corner.  I wasn't sure it was real trouble, but I was
prepared.

   What I heard as I approached ended any doubts.

   "No!  Now come on, Jerry.  Let me go!"

   "You know you want it, bitch.  Now open up!"

   The second tallest of the boys had one hand in front of her, just below
neck level.  He was putting his other hand on her head, like he was going
to push her downward.

   "No!  Let me go, dammit, or..."

   "Or what?  You can't blow your little whistle.  And if you try to tell
anybody, it will be our word against yours.  Four against one.  And my
folks always take my word over yours." I could hear the sneer in his voice.


   "Another nudist!" the girl warned, as she saw me approach.

   "Jerry" glanced at me, with my dead face.  "Aw, it's just the zombie. 
Ignore him." He turned back to his victim.

   Just then, I saw Emily turn another corner into the hall.  Using the
hand signals we had for our act, I told her I was going to use my confetti
cannon and asked her to handcuff the leader.  She agreed, and suggested
adding her own cannon.  I agreed, and we continued our walk.

   And they continued their heated exchange.

   None of them were quite sure what happened when we reached the group,
and we were a little too busy to take notes.  The effect was simple enough.
Suddenly, the air was full of colorful confetti and the hall was echoing
loud whistles.  The leader and the girl felt something, but weren't sure
what.  Just as the confetti started to clear, it thickened again.  When it
was clear, Mary had her whistle in her mouth, blowing.  We were nowhere to
be seen.  "Jerry" was handcuffed with one cuff just above his belt, and the
other, like his erection, sticking out through his unzipped pants and the
fly of his boxers.  The girl was hobbled, with a pair of handcuffs around
her ankles.  The other boys had not had time to move before teachers and
students came in response to the whistles.

   We quickly brushed stray bits of confetti off of each other.  "Let's get
some lunch and head for the office.  We gots some 'splainin to do." I
suggested.  We were just about to head toward the cafeteria, when Vice
Principal Ackerman appeared.  She had her two way to her ear, and was
headed toward the commotion.

   I stopped her.  "You are going to want this," I said, reaching into my
bag.

   "What do you mean?"

   I stopped the recorder and handed it to her.  "We will be in the office
as soon as we pick up some lunch."

   She shook her head, then resumed her dash toward Mary.

   End Part 4

   PART 5

   EMILY

   Deep in our safe places, we went to the cafeteria and got in line.  It
was still a little early, so the line was kind of short.  A couple of
times, people approached us to make requests.  Once they got good looks at
our faces, they changed their minds.

   Once we had our trays loaded, we turned and headed to the office.  We
walked somewhat slower than our OBL, but our burdens provided us with a
degree of protection.  I had to be careful how I held the tray, so I didn't
cover anything important.  That only served to make me more conscious of my
nakedness, which drove me deeper into my safe place.

   We walked into the office, and turned toward Ms.  Ackerman's office. 
One of the secretaries waved us into Principal Murrow's office instead.  I
expected a crowd.  I was wrong.

   The first thing he asked was whether I had my recorder running at the
time.  I said I did.  He asked whether it was still running, and I realized
that I never stopped it.  He asked me to stop it and give it to him.  I did
so.  He connected it to his computer and ran some sort of program.  My
guess would be that he was downloading the file.

   "This is going to be interesting.  Miss Reilly is not sure she wants to
proceed.  Why don't you tell me what happened."

   John described his observations and actions.  When he got to the cannon,
Mr.  Murrow asked about it.  I got my empty one out of its place in my bag
and showed him it was basically a spring loaded confetti ejector.  His
mouth quirked when I described the way I had handcuffed "Jerry", but he
quickly returned to his serious neutrality.  He asked how we could show
that I hadn't unzipped his fly myself, and I pointed out that it would have
taken far too long to unzip him, fish out his cock, thread the handcuffs,
move his wrists in range, and close the cuffs.  There was barely time to do
what I did.

   He seemed satisfied with that.  He asked why we didn't stay around.  We
said that things were stabilized and people, including teachers, were
coming.  We thought we would just muddy the waters by being there, since we
weren't part of the original confrontation.  He was not satisfied with
that. He was also unhappy with us leaving the confetti littering the
hallway.  We apologized for that, but John put in that we thought saving
Mary was more important.

   "Well, about that.  There are some things you should know.  Jerry
O'Connell has a long record of misbehaviors, but most of them are
relatively minor.  With his record, it would be relatively easy to have him
expelled and to get a conviction on the relevant charges.  He also has a
long history of targeting Miss Reilly, in ways that his family has refused
to believe.  But ...  he is her cousin.  Miss Reilly puts a great deal of
store in family, even unworthy family, and she does not want to be the
cause of his destruction.  She is afraid of the effects on his immediate
family, who she gets along with.  And she is afraid of what it would do to
the relationship between their families."

   "So we are in a bit of a dilemma, here.  In the past, Mr.  O'Connell has
apparently been able to talk his way out of a number of things.  Especially
with his family.  Usually, by blaming others in a believable way.  Not to
put too fine a point on it, he is a bully and an accomplished liar.  If he
survives school, he might have a career in politics one day.  There are a
number of people here who would love to use this as an excuse to nail him
once and for all.  And not just teachers." His computer dinged He excused
himself for a moment, and picked up the phone.

   "Hi, Joan.  The recording has been transcribed.  Yes, I have them here
with me.  Fine." He hung up the phone, disconnected my recorder from his
computer, then gave it back to me.  I put it away.  He pulled out John's
recorder and returned it as well.

   "I intend to run a bit of a bluff, and I need your help to do it.  In a
moment, we will be going over there to have you release the handcuffs and
identify the active participants.  They know about the recordings, but not
how short they are, how many there are, or who made them.  I want them to
think the entire confrontation was recorded.  They are being reminded about
the three boys who were jailed yesterday for attempting to lie their way
out of such a situation, and that they are facing a similar fate if they
try to do the same.  We are hoping to get statements that are complete
enough that his parents cannot ignore them."

   "One thing I need is a clearly incriminating exchange, one I can point
to and say that it is enough even without their statements.  But we don't
have time to search for one.  Can you give me an idea where I could find
one?"

   John told him about the "bitch" comment and her reply, near the
beginning.  He brought up some editing software and quickly found them and
made another file with just that part of the recording.  He sent a copy of
that file to Ms.  Ackerman.

   He had us take our trays to the small conference room, and asked me to
wait there while he took John in to her office.  I took the chance to enjoy
our private dining room, and waited.

   JOHN

   I took a quick drink of my milk, then followed him.  Just as we got to
the door, he glanced at me, then pointed to his upper lip.  I used the back
of my arm to wipe my mouth.  He rolled his eyes, but opened the door.  I
followed him in.

   I was surprised to see five clothed, confetti sprinkled kids.  Mary was
not there.  I recognized the other person.  Suzi Smith was in some of my
classes, and was generally a good person.  I pointed to her and shook my
head.  He nodded.

   "Miss Smith, would you come with me, please?" he said.

   As they left, Ms.  Ackerman continued what she had probably been saying.
"with the recording and the witnesses, we have enough to expel you and have
you prosecuted.  This part alone would be enough to do it." She typed
something into her computer, and the exchange I overheard in the hall came
out of its speakers.  Jerry slumped, and she gestured for me to release
him. I produced a key and unlocked the cuffs, removing them.  I waved
toward the girl, and she nodded again.  I released the girl's ankles.

   "Our choices are limited.  Your cousin is involved in a dance
demonstration which has international implications, and we are being
carefully watched.  If you had been paying attention to the announcements
this morning, you would be aware that we have already had one such group
removed from the school in handcuffs.  They have been suspended, and are
awaiting expulsion hearings and criminal charges.  Three of them are only
facing charges because they tried the 'our word against hers, four against
one' approach when questioned by the police." She looked around at the
others.  "When their claims were compared with the recordings, it was clear
that they were lying about some parts and deliberately withholding
information about other parts.  They spent the day in police custody, until
their parents were able to have a long talk with the police and arrange a
temporary release.  The ring leader," she looked right at Jerry, "may be
spending the rest of his life as a convicted sex offender."

   She seemed to notice that I was still there, and waved me out the door.
I returned to the conference room, and yet another cooled-down lunch.

   After what seemed like an hour, Principal Murrow came in again.  He
asked after our lunches, and I mildly complained about two days of cold
cheeseburgers and warm milk.  He expressed sympathy and offered his hope
that these lunchtime meetings would not be necessary any more.  Then he got
down to business.

   In deference to Mary's wishes, her four attackers were not facing quite
as severe a set of sanctions as Emily's.  Since we stopped Jerry before he
did what he intended, they can justify the reduction on that basis. 
However, they will be spending two weeks in the Program, which will not
count as their required Program time, and will be required to do some
Community Service.  He was not sure yet whether the latter would be treated
as a school activity, requiring their nudity.  In addition, all four would
be on probation for the rest of the year.  The tape excerpt was played for
Jerry's parents, and they were sent an audio transcript of his more
detailed confession.  They clearly understood that it was ONLY Mary's
intervention that kept him in school and out of jail.

   On another note, he thought we would want to know that the investigation
had found that there were clear improprieties in the selection of this
week's participants.  There were only two people on the Committee who could
have individually done it all, and two others who could have joined forces
to do so.  The National office has decertified the entire Committee, until
such time as we can clear any of them conclusively.  Temporarily, a group
of teachers and administrators will take over.

   He then handed us late slips, and dismissed us to our after-lunch
classes.  Despite the half day or so it felt like, we had only been there a
little less than an hour.  He arranged for someone to take care of our
lunch trays.

   I was looking forward to Chemistry, and if I hurried, I would not
actually be late.  I hurried.

   Slipping in with the last of the other students, I hurried into my lab
coat and grabbed my gloves and goggles.  Blissfully dressed, I took my
seat. Today we went into more detail on the changing colors, comparing them
to printed scales to gather more information.  Not exciting, but
interesting in its own way.  I was more relaxed than I had been all day,
but for some reason I did not come all the way out of my safe place.  Given
the way the week had gone, I was not altogether surprised.

   Class ended and I reluctantly hung up my lab coat and headed out to HHS.
Looping to my locker allowed my OBL to take me into class just before it
began.  As I had yesterday, I allowed each step to take me deeper into my
safe place.  As I passed through the door, Ms.  Prothrow frankly looked at
my flaccid dick and called me to her desk.  She handed me a questionnaire
and asked me to fill it out and return it to her desk.  She waved me toward
my usual seat, and then picked up a stack of papers from her desk.  Turning
to the class, she announced a pop quiz on yesterday's lesson.  She excused
Bridget and me, and expressed her confidence that everyone in class had
been paying enough attention to easily pass the quiz.  The resulting groans
included my own, as I looked at the sheet in front of me.

   Oddly, it didn't have any place for my name.  It asked a lot of very
personal questions about me, mostly about my erections.  Do I have trouble
getting or sustaining one?  (No) Are they commonly painful?  (No) Do I
generally wake up with one (Yes) On and on and on.  I have them at home.  I
don't commonly have them in public places.  I have them in response to
fantasies and certain images.  I masturbate to ejaculation more than 5
times a week, and less than 20 times a week on average.

   When I finished, I took it up to her.  She waved me back to my seat and
looked through it.  She looked surprised at some parts, but in the end she
mostly looked disappointed.  I think she realized that she was not going to
get anywhere with any of her usual tricks.

   She called for the class to pass in the quizzes, and then announced that
we were going back to the earlier plan, and finishing the lessons on STDs.
I settled in through a comfortingly academic discussion of potentially
crippling or deadly diseases which mostly now had cures and/or
inoculations. Deep in my safe place, I was free to actually pay attention.
When class ended, I went to leave.  As I approached her desk, I looked at
her.  She looked like she wanted to say something, but was at a loss for
words.

   Bridget asked whether I had spoken to Emily about the meeting with her
parents.  I told her that we had discussed it at lunch, and suggested she
have her parents set it up with our parents.  "The old 'have your people
call our people' thing." She laughed at that.

   I hurried off to Art Materials.

   EMILY

   Normally, I like Aerobics class.  Normally, I am wearing a
school-standard leotard and a sports bra, and changing in the girls' locker
room.  This time was different.  This time, I was walking into the boys'
locker room naked, changing my shoes, and then going to class naked.  This
was not safe.  My first stop was the office, to get a locker assigned.  Ms.
Morris, my Aerobics teacher, was still in there, and she took care of it
for me.  Since I was already a little late, I gave her the late slip.  When
I turned to go to the girls' locker room.  she stopped me.

   "You're going the wrong way.  You use the other one this week."

   "I know.  But first, I have to get my stuff from my old locker."

   "Ah, yes.  Mr.  Mason's little twist.  Well, go ahead." She shook her
head.

   As I entered the familiar room, it was filled with frantic activity. 
The girls who weren't trying to finish dressing in time to get to their
classes (aerobics shared the time with other classes) were either staring
at the Program boys, playing with them, or trying to hide from them.  And
the boys were too distracted by everything that was going on to pay
attention to one more undressed girl.  I walked to my locker, got my stuff,
and watched the flood of bodies flow out the doors.  Then I walked back
through the office, and into the almost deserted boys' locker room.  The
few remaining people were too busy trying to get ready and out the door to
pay me any attention.  I found the locker, dumped my things, changed shoes,
and locked up.  Then I was off to aerobics.  They had just started
stretches when I got there.  I spread my towel and quickly joined in.

   There was a minor commotion as some of the boys (and a few of the girls)
in the class, who tended to stay at the rear of the class (to watch the
rears of the rest of the class) rearranged themselves to get the best view.
I was not the first girl in this class to be a Program Participant, so at
least they were clear on the concept of "look, but don't touch" and no RRs,
Still, it was pretty creepy.  So were the boys who "just happened" to walk
by, repeatedly, while the class was in session.  There would be no way to
be invisible in this class this week, but for the most part I was little
more than an anonymous naked body.  It would have to do.

   When we got to some of the more energetic actions, I learned how much I
was going to miss that bra.  Normally my boobs (a healthy B cup, straining
toward a C) are not that much of a problem.  Walking, and even running, is
not a problem.  Bouncing energetically up and down to dance music is
another matter.

   All too soon, class wound down.  We did our cool-down stretches, then
headed for the locker room.  Every step took me deeper into my safe place.
On the way to my locker I picked up two towels, and dropped my chair towel
in with the other dirty towels.  Opening my locker, I shoved one towel in
my book bag.  I took off my shoes and socks, grabbed my soap, and headed
for the shower.  I was a little surprised when I saw the way the showers
were set up.  Instead of the individual stalls I was used to, there was
just a large, open space with showerheads and controls spaced around the
wall.  Diving even deeper into my safe place, I moved to one of the corners
closest to the front, started the water, and washed.  I turned my attention
away from sight and sound, trusting the other parts of my mind to recognize
any danger and call my attention to it.  I washed in a quick and
businesslike way.  A few times, boys came over and offered to wash me.  I
declined.  One started getting a little aggressive, until one of his
classmates took him aside and spoke to him.  I heard "Are you TRYING to get
kicked out of school?" and references to yesterday and today.  After that,
they left me alone.  But many of them still looked.

   I returned to my temporary locker.  I slipped on my sandals and whistle,
grabbed my book bag, and locked the locker.  Some of the boys looked like
they wanted to make RRs.  But others, noticing their looks, talked quietly
to them and they changed their minds.  I put on my best "busy and in a
hurry look" and went out the door and into the hall.

   I headed to my regular locker, and got my French and Art Materials
stuff. Even taking the long way around, I got there early.  Rather than
standing around as a target, I headed for the nearest restrooms.

   With all that went on in the last couple of days, this was the first
time I actually used a regular boy's restroom.  It smelled like piss, but
not overwhelmingly so.  There weren't as many stalls, but there were some
sort of semi-stalls with urinals.  The only other real difference was a
lack of tampon/pad machines.  There were a couple of boys using the
urinals, and a couple of others at the sinks.  They were involved with what
they were doing, and barely seemed to notice me.  I should have known that
was too good to be true.

   I chose a stall and went in.  Because of the Program, they had removed
the doors.  As soon as I had settled in and started to let go, there were
four faces at the doorway.  I went deeper into my safe place.  As the bell
rang, I finished up, wiped myself, and flushed.  I took on my "in a hurry"
look, washed my hands, and headed for the door.  One of them moved to block
the exit, and started to say something.  Just then, the entrance door burst
open and a half dozen boys rushed in, obviously in great need.  I used the
confusion to cover my exit, and made my way to class.

   As I got to the door, I let my expression slip from Determined Rush to
Nobody Home.  But as I entered the room, I was hailed by the one person I
couldn't ignore: Mme.  Bien.  She called me to her desk, and told me that
she would need me in front of the class today.  I would be demonstrating
some of the verbs the class came up with.  I nodded slightly, then put my
bag on the corner of her desk.  Just in case, I pulled out my translating
dictionary.

   The exercise started out reasonably enough.  Walk, sit, stand, turn,
etc. Deep in my safe place and apparently expressionless, I did as
requested.  Then the verbs started to shade toward RRs.  Bend (I bent my
arm), spread (I spread my fingers), open (I opened my dictionary), show (I
indicated the dictionary in my hand), etc.  Then they started getting more
sexual.  Bite, eat, lick, blow, etc.  I stuck to my mundane demonstrations.
Some of the better prepared class members started getting frustrated, and
it went downhill from there.  Finally, one of them burst out with "Baiser!"
I took the outdated, literal meaning, and kissed my arm.

   That did it.  He came out with "Foutre" (an out of date version of
"fuck") and his neighbor with "enculer" (bugger).  I waited for the class
to quiet down a bit, and quietly said "No." I turned to Mme.  Bien and
offered "Ch trer" in my usual level classroom voice.  The boys with the
last two suggestions squawked, and turned a little pale.  It startled a
surprised laugh out of one of the girls.  I asked the teacher whether I
should demonstrate, picking up a pair of scissors from her desk and
indicating the loudmouths.

   When she seemed to be considering it, their eyes widened and everyone
else in class was frantically going through the dictionary for a
translation.  After a few gasps and laughs indicated they had found it, she
allowed that it would not be appropriate to castrate them in class.  She
then looked at them and added unless they volunteer again.

   She motioned for me to go to my desk, and spent the rest of the class in
a more academic discussion of verbs.

   As I got ready to leave, several of the girls in class smiled at me, and
the boys avoided my eyes.  That was interesting.

   I hurried off to Art Materials, with the usual OBL.

   End Part 5

   Part 6

   JOHN

   Art materials was very busy today.  We started with our finger molds,
pouring a premeasured amount of liquid latex into them and then swishing
the mold around to get an even coating inside.  While we were doing so, we
discussed the use of liquid latex as both a material for making molds and a
material for casting in molds.

   Once the liquid stopped sloshing, He had us rub some powder on one of
our fingers.  We coated them with the liquid latex, giving them several
coats each.  The room had an unpleasant ammonia smell by then.  While we
were doing all of this, we were discussing things like casting foam rubber
items.

   While we left everything to dry and cure, we had a brief discussion of
another casting material and technique.  It was called sand casting.  Emily
and I were each invited to stick the fingers of our choice into a small box
of damp sand.  We withdrew them almost immediately.

   One of the other boys in class couldn't take it any more.  He urgently
raised his hand and, when recognized, asked "What is it with the fingers?
Do you have a thing for them or something?

   Ms.  Johnson laughed, and replied "I thought you would never ask.  You
all have fingers, and they are of relatively uniform size.  They are far
more detailed than anything you could sculpt in any reasonable amount of
time, with the fingerprints and all.  They make a wonderful way to compare
the level of detail produced by each technique.  And it is easy to compare
the results with the original."

   For most of the rest of class, we discussed what we had covered so far
and what circumstances might call for one technique or another.  Near the
end of class, we pulled our thin, latex "fingers" out of their plaster
molds.  A few of us, having some experience with such things, sprinkled the
insides with baby powder (from the class supplies) before pulling them out.
The others learned why, when the insides of the "fingers" stuck together.
Then we pulled the somewhat thicker rubber molds off of our fingers.

   We cleaned up and left for the day.

   I pulled Emily aside and let her know that I had spoken with Bridget,
and that our parents will set up the meeting.

   Before we headed to the door, we hurried to our lockers, got the
materials we would need for homework and the packs with our clothes.  We
checked our packs, making sure our quick change outfits were ready for use.
Then we headed for the exit we were assigned for Program purposes.  As we
approached the doors, we readied our clothes.  The crowd outside were
giving a lot of attention to Mary, who was responding to last minute RRs
and seemed a little more at ease than before, and the girl from Jerry's
group, who was glaring threateningly at those offering to help her dress.

   Emily went through the door first.  Her dress was around her and
velcro'd at the waist between the time she cleared the threshold and the
time she cleared the door.  I was right behind her.  As she was walking on,
tying the sash of her dress on the move, I did my own quick dress.  Once I
passed the threshold, I had my QC outfit on before I cleared the door, but
it took a second longer to seal up the seams.  Still, few people seemed to
notice me and none had time to say anything before I was done.  Like Emily,
I was walking in a determined fashion the whole time and continued on my
way.  We moved like any other, non-Program students in a hurry to get away
from school.  Except for a few students who came out the doors behind us
(and saw our changes), I doubt that very many people in the crowd even
realized we were Participants.

   Once we were about a block away from the school, we stepped behind a
convenient bush so she could slip on some panties and a bra.  I decided to
wait until I got home.

   We went to my place again.  As soon as we got there, she called her mom
at work.  She told her that we would be working on the changes to the act,
and would need all the time we could get.  She, in turn, was told that both
out families would be having dinner at Bridget's house.  Her dad would pick
her up in about two hours, to give her time to get ready.  She pressed, and
got an extra half hour.

   In the mean time, I was calling my mother on another line.  I got the
same word from her, along with an assurance that both of them would be home
at the usual time.  Dress for dinner was casual.  She described it as what
I would normally wear to school on a good day.

   I went upstairs to change into something more comfortable.  She
followed, and we talked about the failed entrance that morning.  We agreed
that we needed a distraction.  A big distraction.  She suggested someone
making a grand entrance, pulling attention away from the door.  Who?  We
both immediately came up with Perry.  Give him some music, an announcer,
and a couple of well timed flash pots loaded for smoke, and he'd be in his
element.

   We phoned him, and he loved it.  We took a couple of minutes to hash out
the script, then arranged to meet a bit early for setup.

   It took us about 20 minutes to record the tape and add the cues for the
flashpots.  We would be using the Boombox, a tape player modified to
trigger several effects (such as the flash pots) in response to commands
added to the tape.

   That done, we worked on Moonglow Cock.  We would start with the effect I
used yesterday.  With "my" package on the table, she would make appropriate
gestures and command it to rise.  It would start to shake and move a
little, then stop.  She would vamp it, and it would shake again and get an
erection.  She'd say something about it being shy, and drape a cloth over
it, holding the upper two corners.  It would rise, showing as a moving lump
under the cloth.  It would peek over the top, Seeming to look around.  It
would pull her away from the table then dance along the top of the cloth.
It would dive, and she would look surprised.  Lowering the cloth, it would
appear nestled between her breasts.

   Other antics would include an attempt at her privates, and pulling her
toward a good looking girl in the front row (or second row, as needed). 
She would bring it back to the table, and command it back down.  The
erection would go away, and it would sink toward the surface of the table
(behind the cloth).  Once it was about halfway down, she would whip the
cloth away, showing it has vanished.  I would step from behind the table,
showing myself to be intact.

   We ran through it, then she dropped two of the special purpose genital
sets in her bag so she could practice with them.  They were a little
heavier than the usual moonglow ball, so the timing and such were a little
different.  And she needed practice with the controls.

   We tried the Zigzag variant, and found that she could easily do the
popping door bit.  She came up with the idea of saying something on the
order of "Be careful with those!  I just grew them!" when I was struggling
to close the door.

   We worked out the setup for the sleeve gags.  We decided to use a
cartoon clip without permission, since there wasn't enough time to write to
Jay Ward and get their response.  And because it was a school talent show.
We would send a courtesy note, however, explaining the last minute thing.

   By then, it was time to get ready.  Her dad was there to pick her up, so
she gathered up her stuff and left.  I showered and changed into a pair of
black slacks and a blue button up shirt.  Just the act of putting on my
jockeys and undershirt felt wonderful.  The rest was even better.  I wanted
to button the shirt all the way up, and maybe add a vest or something.  The
more dressed I was, the better.  I recognized the impulse, and settled for
leaving the collar button undone (and no vest).  They did want casual.

   As usual, Mom took the longest to get ready.  She started before I did,
but we still ended up waiting for her for a couple of minutes.  I wondered
how much faster she would dress in Emily's place, at the end of the school
day.  I quickly shook the image out of my mind.  Yech!

   It was a short drive to Bridget's.  Emily's car pulled in right behind
us, so we all went to the door together.  Emily and I let the parents walk
ahead, as they admired the place.  We just followed, lost in speculation
about what the night would hold.  I was nervous enough that I went into my
safe place, but not too deeply.

   Bridget answered the door, and showed us inside, with a secret little
smile.  She was wearing regular school clothes, which made us look a little
overdressed.  I didn't care.  I wanted to be as dressed as I could.  She
introduced us to her parents, and they introduced themselves to our
parents. I noticed that there was a man that hadn't been introduced yet. 
He looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn't place him.

   In what I suppose is typically diplomatic fashion, we were treated to
what had to have been a bit of prearranged theater.  Her parents didn't
ignore us, but carefully kept the focus of attention from coming too
heavily on us.  They spoke to our parents about how thankful they were for
the help we gave Bridget, and how proud they must be of us.  I also heard
them mentioning that the notice about the refused exemption had arrived
Monday afternoon.  Unusually, it had a postmark over the stamp machine
mark. Even more unusual was that the postmark was for that past Saturday,
but the postage meter had shown a date two weeks earlier.

   Bridget spoke with us.  She ventured that we were about the shyest
people she had ever met, and asked how we could stand in front of a whole
audience and do our magic.

   Her father broke off his other conversation and turned to ask her
whether she remembered a part she had played at some festival back home, of
a wild and promiscuous girl (his phrasing).  She admitted she did.  He
asked her whether she could behave that way now, at school.  She looked
horrified and said she couldn't.  He reminded her that she had stayed in
character for some parts of the festival, even in and among the crowd.  He
asked her how she could do that.  She answered that she was playing someone
else, so it wasn't "really" her.  He then nodded, waved his hand at us, and
said "So...?" She acted like she got it.

   Message received and understood.  He (or they) had read a transcript or
report of our testimony before the investigators, and would respect our
preferences.

   Bridget's father then seemed to notice the mystery man.  He waved him
in, and introduced him as someone we had something in common with.  I
suddenly realized who he was.

   "Brendan!" I said.  He was an internationally famous magician, sort of
an Irish David Copperfield.  He was in town to make arrangements for a
performance at some Consular event.  He was also a customer of ours.  I
wondered whether he knew who we were.  I shifted into the Magician, and saw
that Emily had done the same.

   My question was quickly answered.  He was very nice, but in a way that
was reminiscent of our mentors when they were talking with inexperienced
but enthusiastic magic students.  This was going to be interesting.  I was
thinking of playing along for a while, but I noticed our host was getting
uncomfortable.  I asked Brendan how he chose his name, guiding the
discussion into that topic.  He asked whether we had a name for our act.

   "Uh huh.  The Magnificent Mysterians."

   He looked mildly surprised.  Then concerned.  "I think that name is
being used.  Have you ever heard of Magnificent Mysterians' Machinations?"

   "That reminds me, we have that modified skeleton you wanted for The
Argument.  Do you want to pick it up while you're here, or should we ship
it?" The Argument was an effect we had created.  The magician argues with
his assistant.  She ends up in a cabinet, as a skeleton with a sword
through her rib cage.  We sold it to him, as an end of act effect.  He
added a resurrection effect (that we didn't design), and put it in the
middle.

   "You mean to tell me that *you* two are Magnificent Mysterians'
Machinations?"

   We nodded.  After that, the conversation quickly went into shop talk. 
We complimented him on the resurrection effect, and much of the rest of his
act.  He designed the resurrection effect.  Then we got around to our act,
and our problem.

   He had heard about The Program, but hadn't thought about how it could
affect performances.  The notion of female magicians and assistants
performing naked created mixed reactions in him.  The notion that someday
he might be performing naked seemed to hit him hard.

   We adjourned to dinner and, to the annoyance of our parents and the
amusement of Bridget's parents, continued our discussion.

   He offered to critique our reworked act.  We teased him that he just
wanted to see Emily naked - or was it me?  - and then provisionally
accepted.  It still surprised him that we had to ask our parents.  He found
it too easy to forget just how young we are.

   We ended up inviting him to dinner at my house.  My workshop and our
rehearsal area were there, while Emily had the costume shop.  Emily would
eat at home and come over after.  For the runthrough, my folks would run
the lights, projector, etc.  Emily's folks would watch and critique from an
audience viewpoint.

   Our parents reminded us that we would have to finish our homework before
dinner, and that we would need to get to bed before it was too late.  We
gave the obligatory sounds of objection, and everyone laughed.

   We broke off the conversation as dessert arrived (hey, a guy's gotta
have priorities).  As we finished, we were thanked again for our help with
Bridget.

   When we got home, I went to my room and got to work on my homework. 
There wasn't too much.  A worksheet for Algebra, and some reading for
History, English, and Chemistry.  Traditionally, the teachers gave Talent
Show participants a break the last part of the week, so it should get
easier the next couple of days.  From what I've read on the internet, some
schools give Program students a break on homework for their week(s).  No
such luck here though.

   I did the worksheet first, then the reading.  As I finished the last
page, my eyes were drooping so badly I could hardly see.  I set my alarm a
little early so I could shower in the morning, and changed into pajamas.

   Safe, and dressed, at home, I played back the mental tape of the
changing room and showers, enjoying the view of all the girls, that
wonderfully forbidden view for most of my life.  I gently rubbed my
erection through my clothes as I drifted off to sleep.

   End Part 6