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

   Part 7

   WEDNESDAY

   EMILY

   Last night was certainly interesting.  We had gotten a lot done on the
act after school, over at John's house.  Then Dad brought me home to get
ready for the "casual" thank you dinner at Bridget's.  I swear, the 'rents
were more nervous about this than I was.

   I showered thoroughly, then put on one of my better school dresses.  It
was one that needed a slip, which was fine with me.  The more I was
wearing, the happier I was.  A little makeup (very little, I was going for
casual) and the brush, and I was ready to go.  In fact, I was ready to go
about five minutes before them.

   We arrived at the same time as John's family.  We all went in together.
Bridget's parents were very nice, and they had a surprise for us.  Only it
became a bigger surprise for them (and him).  Their other guest was a pro
magician called Brendan.  He was one of our customers.  It was fun meeting
him face to face and talking a bit.  He even offered to critique our redone
act.  John teased him that he really just wanted to see me naked.  Or see
John naked.  We'll do the runthrough tonight, after dinner.

   The food was good, and the thanks did not get too embarrassing.  All in
all, a good night.

   When we got home, I changed into one of my softest flannel nightgowns. I
did my homework (what there was of it), and spent about a half hour
practicing with the simulated cock and ball sets.  Then I settled in to
sleep.

   I had a really weird dream.  I was at school, and there were almost
disembodied erections all around.  I was afraid of them, but at the same
time I was protected.  I could feel the soft fabrics surrounding me, and
the woodies didn't seem to see me.  Was I invisible?  I noticed the other
girls in the hall.  Some were vague swatches of cloth.  Some were almost
disembodied sets of tits and pussies.  The cocks went after both kinds, but
mostly the floating body part girls.  The girls didn't seem to mind.  In
fact, some of them turned around and chased the cocks.

   Sometimes it seemed as though some were going after me, and I was
frightened of them.  But they would turn aside and go after someone else. I
came to realize that I wasn't invisible to them.  They were just avoiding
me.  And for some reason, that was sad.

   I woke up to my alarm, and just enjoyed the soft comfort of my nightgown
and sheets.  I got up, briefly washed (the shower last night should do for
today), and did my makeup.  Reluctantly, I got into another swim wrap
without underwear.  I packed my after school clothes and my homework, put
in a Tunnel Snake, then went down to breakfast.  The 'rents were there,
eating.  As I got my cereal, they started with how proud they were and how
brave I was, and all that BS.  For some reason, it made me go down into my
safe place.  They seemed to notice, and backed off.  As I ate in silence, I
saw them exchanging worried, unhappy looks.

   I left early, to help set up Perry's entrance.  When I got there, John,
Perry, and some other boy (I think he was a junior, like Perry) were there.
John was telling the boy that he recommended waiting at least a minute
before picking up the flash pots, or they could be uncomfortably hot.  And
if one doesn't fire, unplug the wire and dump the powder carefully into a
trash can (preferably one with something wet near the top) before taking it
in.  He indicated understanding.  We set levels on the Boombox, set and
concealed the flashpots, then ran the wires from the pots to the box
(covering them as we went).  Finally, John filled one pot and I filled the
other.  A couple of Perry's other friends showed up.  He showed them the
pots, and told them to make sure nobody went near them before they went
off. As the crowd started gathering at the door, near the clothes box and
growing outward, we blended into the middle of it.  A couple of times,
classmates of ours looked confused at seeing us there.  But their attention
was quickly drawn to the front.

   Among the first victims to arrive were Jerry and his co-conspirators. 
They stripped unhappily, and were even more upset to find the door locked
and the crowd full of requests.  At first they refused the requests
(especially the girl), but they were reminded that refusing RRs could get
them more time in the Program.  Then they let it happen.  But the second
the door was unlocked, they bolted inside.  Some of the other people went
in, too.  Most students used another door to enter the school, so most of
the people here were here for the show.  Once that settled down, some music
blared out from a ways away from the door.  Then a deep voice intoned
"Ladies and Gentlemen ...  and the rest of you here ...  Announcing" (The
first flash pot went off) "The Clown Prince of the school!" (a muffled
figure appeared through the smoke, which quickly dispersed) "The Master of
Mirth," By now, all heads were drawn to the unfolding scene.  We slipped to
the front and out of our clothes, then headed through the doors.  We missed
the rest of the Grand Entrance, but later learned it all went quite well.

   Bridget met us just inside, and walked toward the office with us.  We
needed to warn them that Perry's friends would be dropping off out
equipment there, and ask them to hold it for us.  Bridget said her folks
were impressed with us, and liked us as well.  Apparently, the two don't
always go together for them.  She also said we were welcome to come over
any time.  She said she understood about our shyness, but would always
consider us friends.

   Just as we reached the office doorway, we bumped into an unpleasant
surprise.  Susan Conway had been in there, turning in the paperwork for her
two day absence.  She was just leaving when she saw us.  She went off with
more force than an overloaded flash pot!  I barely had time to trigger the
recorder, and I might have missed the beginning.  I won't repeat what she
said, but it included wildly off the mark speculations about how Bridget
got out of the Program and how John and I had been spending our Program
time.  And oh yes, claiming that our act was so weak that we had to do it
naked just to have an excuse for how badly we would lose the Talent Show.
By the time she was stopped, Bridget was in tears, and John and I were
uncomfortably aware of being the center of a lot of unwanted attention.

   Some of the office staff had heard her tirade, and dragged her off into
the office mid word.  But by then, the damage was done.

   I hadn't been expecting it, and it came crashing in on me.  I was
standing here, stark naked, in the entry hallway of the school.  People
were looking at my naked body, paying attention to every part of me, and I
was helpless to do anything about it.  It was Monday again, without the
plan and the need to protect Bridget.  My hands started to move, to cover
myself.  I stopped them by a sheer act of will.  There was nowhere to run.
No way to hide.  I went deep into my safe place, deeper than I ever
remember going.  I risked a quick glance at John, and he looked worse off
than I was.  How could she do that?

   Someone from the office herded the three of us into the office, and
directed us to chairs just outside the principal's office.  We were out of
direct line of sight of the hallway, which was a minor relief.  As we sat,
we were given cups of water.  The door to his office hadn't closed all the
way, and we could hear the whole thing.  He was ripping her a new one for
her attack.  He told her that she would spend the rest of the week on the
Program, to gain perspective on her accusations and our experiences, and
that the rest of her punishment would be determined after speaking with her
parents.  She took that snotty, superior tone she uses, and informed him
that he could not do that.  She said she was exempt, and that her mother,
the chairwoman of the Committee and the PTO, verified it.

   I could hear the satisfaction in his voice as he told her that her
mother is no longer on the Committee, and that her exemption was
overturned.

   By that time, I had seen V.P.  Pruitt and one of the male PE teachers
drag two boys (brothers, I think: one a junior and one a senior) into his
office and shut the door.  Busy morning.

   By this time, VP Ackerman had come over to talk to us.  I think she was
going to try to comfort us or something.  But when she heard Susan's ear
splitting shriek of anger, and her loud refusal to undress, she gestured to
one of the women at the front desk and the two of them stepped into his
office.  They didn't bother to close the door, so we heard him telling her
that she would get another week for that refusal and (was that satisfaction
in his voice?) directing the two women to "help" her out of her clothes.

   There were sounds of a struggle, and more incoherent shrieks.  Finally,
she came bolting out of the office wearing nothing but her shoes, socks and
her whistle.  She saw us and turned to loudly proclaim that it was all our
fault!  She threw her Pamphlet copy at John, hitting him a little below his
right eye, and threatened vengeance on us all.  He didn't even flinch. 
Then she stormed out the door, pushing through anyone who got in her way.
Including Perry's friends, who were dropping off our equipment.  What an
exit!

   Principal Murrow and VP Ackerman called us into his office and offered
us chairs.  They offered their apologies that she treated us so badly, and
that they had been unable to stop it.  We offered our recorders, which he
took and handed to staffers with the request to download them.

   They invited us to speak with them, the nurse, or the counselor if we
wanted to talk about it (or anything else).  As deep as I was into my safe
place, I did little more than note his words.

   He told us that she had been their original choice for John's
replacement partner, but acknowledged that it would have been a bad idea.
In a flat voice, John expressed relief that it had not happened.

   They asked us if we needed anything, and Bridget said that we could use
late slips.  We got them, and left.  On the way out, our recorders were
returned.

   I was so deep in my place that I was only aware that it was vitally
important to go to my locker and from there, to English class.  Unlike
Susan, I didn't push anyone away or anything like that.  I just went around
anyone in my way.

   I didn't make it in time.  The bell sounded well before I got to class.
As I walked in the door, I could feel every eye in the room, including Mr.
Weber's, on me.  Ohgogohgodohgod I was standing naked in front of my
teacher and my classmates.  Even Dave is staring at me.  Deep!  I need to
get deeper into my safe place!

   Mr.  Weber looked like he was just about to read something, probably the
announcements.  I gave him the late slip and slipped back to my desk.  I
had just settled in (was it just me, or was the towel stiffer this
morning?), when the speaker buzzed quietly.  Principal Murrow gave a brief
announcement that special Program rules for the Talent Show would be posted
later in the day.  Then he sternly reminded us that harassing Program
Participants would not be tolerated, inside the school *or* in the changing
area outside.  He said that three people had faced significant penalties
for such harassment already this morning.  I wondered who the other two
were, and what happened.  Dave slumped when he heard the announcement, so I
suspect that he was another victim.  A lot of our classmates looked back
and forward between us, questions in their eyes.

   Mr.  Weber read the other announcements, called roll, and then called
for us to turn in our homework.  Internally, I recorded the rest of the
class.  He did not call on me, so I just sat there deep in my safe place.

   JOHN

   I had a weird dream last night.  I was surrounded by naked girls.  They
all wanted to have sex with me.  But I wasn't naked.  I was fully dressed,
with my cock sticking out of the open fly of my pants.  One girl kneeled in
front of me and silently offered to give me head.  I agreed, and she
started in on me.  It was sexy as hell watching my cock disappear into her
mouth, but I could barely feel it.  I leaned back a little, with my hands
spread outward.  Two other girls came up and, watching for permission, slid
themselves onto my hands, so I was cradling their pussies.  Their skin felt
soft and warm, and their hair was soft as well.  There was something wrong
with that, but I didn't care.  It was nice.  The girl in front pulled away,
with a smile.  Another girl sort of floated up, legs first, on a futon kind
of thing carried or guided by four other girls.  Her legs were lifted and
spread, opening up her beautiful pussy.  Her pale breasts were sticking up
proudly, combining with her legs to obscure her face.  As they moved her
toward me, the two girls on my hands reached under my arms to support my
weight and used their other hands to guide my rock hard cock into her.  A
part of me was blown away by the very idea that I was inside of her. 
Another part noted that the feeling was not at all what I expected.  It was
warm, soft, and tight, but somehow muted and dry.  I was just starting to
move in and out, when the class bell rang and they all left.  Only it
wasn't the class bell - it was my alarm.

   Somehow, it seemed important to write down the dream before I lost it.
So I wrote the above paragraph, then went into the bathroom to take care of
business.  I turned on the shower and, while waiting for it to warm up,
took care of what should have happened in the dream.  Afterwards, I sat and
took care of other morning business.  I showered thoroughly but quickly.

   I was ready early enough that I got a ride to school from my dad,
equipment and all.  He asked whether he wanted to know what it was for, and
I told him "probably not." He grinned, and dropped the subject.  As we
neared the school, I noticed I was almost involuntarily going into my safe
place.  School was no longer neutral and reasonably safe.  That was a sad
thought.

   On the other hand, in that state I could focus more closely on safely
and usefully siting the flash pots.

   As my dad drove away, Perry and a friend showed up.  He introduced his
friend as Hank, and described him as a theater techno nerd.  Hank grinned.
It turned out that he had wanted to talk to me, since he was helping
backstage with the Talent Show.  He wanted to know what special tech
support we would need.  I told him about the cartoon clip, and the rest was
just low fill and the two follow spots.  I would give him the cues at the
dress rehearsal tomorrow.  I was filling him in on safety measures when
Emily walked up.  We got things set up and ready to go very quickly, then
the two of us faded into the gathering crowd.

   Bridget met us inside, and walked with us to the office.  When we got to
the office, we nearly got bowled over by a charging Susan Conway.  I
smelled trouble (or cheap perfume), so I started my recorder.  When she saw
who we were, she let loose.  I have been around a lot of girls in my life,
but I *never* heard one talk like that before.  She seemed to think the
three of us had a rather robust and creative sex life, and confidence
problems about the magic act.

   I can write about that now, but at the time it really got to me.  It was
like it was Monday again, but without the plan or Bridget's rescue. 
Everybody in the area was staring at us, and listening to her rants.  There
was really nowhere we could go.  Even with a distraction, like the cannon,
we were stuck.  I went very deep into my safe place, and saw that Emily had
done the same.

   She chose a really dumb place to attack us.  Office people dragged her
inside and into the principal's office, and we were invited to sit in the
outer office near his partly open door.  It made for interesting listening.
In the end, she was in the Program for the rest of the week, and for all of
next week.  It was "not a punishment" (yeah, right), it was a way for her
to "get some perspective" on the accusations she hurled at us.  I listened
to and recorded (in both senses: the recorder in my bag was still running)
the confrontation, while I sank deeper and deeper into my safe place.  By
the time she came storming out, naked and furious, and threatened us with
retribution, the world was not real any more.  Bridget tells me that Susan
threw her pamphlet and hit me in the face, but I didn't notice it.

   Then we got called in for what had become the usual apologies.  We gave
them our recorders, which they downloaded and returned.  I found out that
Susan had been slated to be my replacement partner.  I couldn't help a rude
comment about dodging the bullet.  They did not object.  We got late slips
and went to our classes.

   Damndamndamndamndamnitalltohell!  I am running around the halls of my
school stark naked!  People who would normally ignore me look at me any
time I am near!  I know that it is not novel any more.  I know there are
more naked people than there were on Monday, and the newer ones are more
novel, more interesting to most people.  But *I* am naked, and they are
looking at *me*.  Teachers will call attention to my nakedness.  I have to
use the wrong bathrooms and showers.  Emily and I have to redo our whole
damned act.  Make it go away!

   But it won't go away.  So I do.  So deep into my safe place that the
whole world is unreal.

   School is nothing more than a walk through television show.  I just
don't know whether it is a soap opera or a sitcom.  Right now, it seems
more like a crime drama.

   I made it to Algebra just in time.  The bell rang just as I settled into
my seat.  Roll was called and the routine announcements were about half
read when we heard the speaker come to life.  When Principal Murrow talked
about the three people facing consequences for harassing Participants, some
of the class turned and looked at me.  Suddenly, I had a horrified thought.
A lot of people saw the three of us taken into the office.  Others saw us
sitting outside of Principal Murrow's office.  Did they think *we* were the
ones in trouble?  Shit!  I just want today to be over.

   I just want this week to be over.

   The rest of the class went more easily.  After I passed in my worksheet,
I just sat there deep in my safe place and took it all in.  After a couple
of years, the bell rang.  I packed my worksheet (due Monday), and headed to
my locker.  It wasn't so much my OBL as a life or death rush to my locker.
After swapping books and papers, I calmed myself enough to do the OBL to
class.  Despite the feeling that I had a target on my groin and a follow
spot highlighting me, nobody seemed to pay all that much attention to me.

   History looked to be more interesting.  In the Chinese sense.  Susan
Conway was in the class with me.

   It was more interesting than I expected.  Mr.  Bailey went on another of
his themes, this time talking about the interaction between intolerance and
opportunism in the buildup toward the Civil War.  He called Susan to the
front of the class, then asked how people of that time would react to
seeing her running around that way.  The response was overwhelmingly
hostile.  He stopped the building reaction before it even threatened to get
out of hand.  Even at that, she was looking frightened.  Then he asked how
a personal, political, or business rival might use such an event to
advantage.  Once again, the class was enthusiastic in presenting ideas. 
With a quiet comment that maybe times have not changed as much as we would
like to think, he sent her back to her seat.  The rest of the class was
filled with more historic examples of such opportunism, their consequences,
and various trends.

   If I could really feel anything by then, I might have felt a little
sorry for Susan.

   Maybe.

   As I got up to leave, I saw Susan being stopped for requests.  She was
not happy about it.  But with all that focus on her, I got out the door
easily enough.  For some reason, a part of me did not want to be quite so
invisible.  But enough of me did, so I put on my traveling face and did an
OBL to my locker.  All the way there, I stayed deep in my safe place.  Once
there, I swapped books and stuff, then headed purposefully back toward
English.

   As I neared the room, I realized two disturbing things.  One was that I
was early again, and needed to kill some time.  The other was that Susan
would be in that class, too.  Along with Bridget.

   I figured I could kill the time in the restroom again.  It would also be
a refuge from Susan, since she had to use the boys'.  That only left
Bridget.

   I was confused about Bridget.  Before this week, I had hardly noticed
her.  And I doubt she noticed me.  But now that we had "rescued" her from
this Program insanity, she had become as close to me - to us - as anyone
outside of our families.  Almost as close as the sibling like partnership I
had with Emily.  Socially, she was out of my league even if I was
interested in such things.  But there she was.

   As I slipped into the girls' room, that last thought echoed.  There she
was.  Standing there, at the mirror, trying to fix her makeup.  She saw my
reflection, and looked surprised.  And a little embarrassed.  I pretended I
hadn't seen her, and turned to find an empty stall.  After I did what I
came there to do (other than kill time), I went to wash my hands.  She was
still there.

   "Thank you for trying, but I saw you react to my being here.  For a
moment, I thought I had done something wrong, that you were rejecting me.
But then I realized you were just giving me my space.  Thank you for that."


   Wow.  That was quite a speech.

   She continued "I'm worried.  She's in the next class with us.  What if
she tries something there?"

   "Ms.  McMillan would deal with it.  Don't worry." I think that was more
than I had said since leaving the office this morning.

   When we got into the room, I went to my seat, while she went to the
teacher.  Then she came toward me.  I was surprised at that.  She stopped
at the desk next to mine, and invited the boy sitting there to take her
seat.  She intimated that he would have an excellent view of the newly
naked Susan.  And she assured him that it was ok with the teacher.  He went
for it.

   Susan struggled through the door, shaking off unwanted hands, just as
the bell rang.  She started to sink into her seat but then remembered to
spread her towel first.  As she stood back up and got out her towel, she
glared daggers at us.  Then she noticed that the whole class was staring at
her, waiting for her to sit so class could start.  She plopped down on her
towel draped chair.

   Ms.  McMillan had Susan collect last night's homework from the front
desks (after we passed them forward) and, later, pass out the assignments
that would be due Monday.  Otherwise, she left her alone.  From deep in my
safe place, I noticed a cloud of tension in the room.  But nothing
happened. Class was routine.  When class ended, Susan got up and put her
towel away, then looked ready to come over to say something to us.  Before
she could move, she got a posing request from my former neighbor.  She
looked murderous, but turned around to do as he asked.  As she started to
bend over, he waved us out the door.  We made our way out, quickly but
quietly.

   Outside the door, we nodded to each other and took off in opposite
directions.

   I almost wished she could come with me.  I made my way to the locker
room, sinking deeper with each step.  Deep in the knowledge that the room
was just full of ordinary students doing perfectly ordinary things, I
started my internal recorder and walked in.  Keeping myself aware of
possible obstacles or threats, I made my way to my temporary locker and
dressed for gym.  There seemed to be much less reaction to me this time,
for which I was profoundly grateful.

   I started my warmups as usual, trying to avoid the sharpest of the rocks
(and occasional litter) while doing so.  Starting Monday, I was going to
make it a point to warm up in full sweats.  As we were doing our final
stretches, something registered as a threat.  Someone had gestured toward
me.  Looking without shifting my head, I saw that a friend of Susan's was
talking to one of the students who assisted the coach.  He nodded, then
wrote something on his clipboard.  Then she went over to George Johanson,
one of the lowest ranked members of the track team.  He was in this class
as well as the after school part, in order to build up his stamina or some
such.  She said something to him, and he looked over at me with an angry
face.  The coach had us start running a couple of laps to finish warming
up. While we were running, I saw her talking to the coach.  He looked
annoyed.

   We got back to the starting line, and milled around for a moment.  He
got our attention, then told us that he had to go do something in the
office.  This was not good.  He went on to say that we would be doing timed
100's and 220's, and that his assistants would take care of things until he
got back.

   As the coach walked off, we were broken into groups of six.  I
recognized the track team member, and a couple of the other top runners in
the class.  They were all in my group.  This really could not be good. 
Still, if I let them in front of me, and the others behind me, it might not
be too bad.

   Wrong again.

   We were the third group to go.  In the meantime, I was walking around to
keep loose, keeping to the area with the most other runners, and finding
out just how deep I could get in my safe place and continue to walk.  The
only good thing was that the part of the track we were using was not the
closest to the street.  The people looking at me from the sidewalk and the
passing cars would have a hard time seeing any details.  The bad part of
that was that the part we were using was close to the bleachers, which
seemed fuller than usual.  One part in particular, where a group of girls
were listening to something Susan's friend was telling them.  They were all
following me with their eyes.  Damn.

   Then it was our turn.  Great.  As we took our positions, I took my
customary middle slot.  We started, and I knew something was wrong.  The
other four were keeping up with the team member, setting a killing pace.  I
knew that if I kept up with that pack, the coach would push me to build on
those speeds.  By a quarter of the way down the track, I was falling behind
and my injured side was hurting.  I slacked off my speed, but kept running.
At my best, I might have kept up with the pack.  Now?  Forget it!  I ran
easily, breathing deeply and turning down my level of pain.  By the three
quarter mark, I was alone on the track.  I finished alone, to the sound of
laughter from the stands.  And I saw the coach walking back to the field.

   As I was walking it off, the team member came up to talk to me.  He
asked me what made me think I could take his place on the track team.  I
assured him I had no such ambition.  He asked why I had asked for that
match up, then.  I told him that I had no idea what he was talking about.

   Strictly speaking, that was not true.  I suspected that Susan's friend
had set me up.  Thinking about her, I glanced at the stands and saw that
she was gone.

   The coach called the two of us over, and asked me why I had requested
that grouping and then run so poorly.  I told him that I had not requested
the group.  I also told him that my injury from Monday started hurting
partway down the track, and that I had eased off when that happened.  He
called his assistant over.  After he assured the coach that I had made the
request, I asked him whether I had personally told him that.  He said that
I had sent word by way of the girl.  He turned to point her out in the
stands, but she was long gone.  Comparing recollections, they realized that
all three of them had spoken to the same girl.

   I asked the coach what she had told him.  He said that a new Program
girl needed a locker.  When I asked whether it was Susan Conway, he looked
surprised.  I explained that she had sworn revenge on me for her Program
status, and speculated that this was a part of that revenge.  He asked me
how bad my side was, and I told him that it still hurt, but was manageable.
He told me to take a couple of easy laps to work it off, and if it still
hurt, to shower and go see the nurse.

   It did.

   There was something nice about the idea of a nice, empty locker room to
shower in.  Until I started getting near my locker.  I heard two familiar
voices: Susan and her friend.  And they were in the vicinity of my locker.
I quietly hurried to the gym office, but nobody was there.  I went out into
the gym and found a teacher.  I did a double take as I noticed it was the
same coach that had undressed me on Monday.  I told her about the voices,
and she followed me to the locker room.  We both moved quietly.  We heard
the voices chortling about how this would "fix him" and the like.  We split
up and took opposite sides of the locker group.
I stepped out first, and loudly asked "What are you doing to my locker?"



   "Nothing.  And if you try to say we did it, we will deny it.  Your word
against ours, and you don't have your precious recorder with you to refute
it."

   She had a point.  I would have to be more careful in the future.

   I noticed the tube of glue in her hand, and tried to get past them. 
They moved to block me.  "How long does it take that glue you're holding to
harden?"

   "It should be hard now, magic boy.  Let's see your foreign slut get you
out of this one!"

   They both jumped when a strong pair of hands landed on their shoulders.
The coach turned them to face her, giving me room to get by.  I dialed the
combination, feeling the wheel stiffen in the process.  When I pulled, it
moved very slowly.  Partway out, it stopped completely.  The girls got a
very smug look on their faces.  I tried pulling harder, and the pain in my
side flared up.  I gasped, and sat down holding my side.

   The coach pushed them down to sit on the bench, then called the office.
She told them she was sending the two girls there for disciplinary reasons,
and would explain momentarily.  She took the glue and, on suspicion, their
book bags and sent them on their way.  She reminded them that the office
knew how long it should take them to get there.

   I suspected that the school would soon have another naked girl.  And at
this rate, Susan would be graduating naked.

   She went to the gym office and quickly returned with a small pry bar and
a metal plate.  She used the plate to brace the pry bar on as she forced
the lock open the rest of the way.  I asked whether she did that often, and
she said probably ten or twelve times a semester.  I opened the locker, and
we were hit with a wave of cheap perfume.

   She stepped back a few feet, then sniffed at the two book bags.  She
reached into the second bag and pulled out a small bottle.  She sniffed it
and nodded.  While she was doing that, I pulled my stuff out of the locker.
My shoes and socks reeked of the stuff.  So did my sitting towel.  I had
one bit of luck: because of the way I shoved things in the locker, my book
bag was not doused.  As I sat down in relief, my side flared up again.

   She saw me hold my side and asked me about it.  I told her about it
hurting when I ran, and coming in to shower, "dress", and head to the
nurse's office.  She suggested that I go ahead and shower, and she would
get me a new lock and locker.  She took my stuff into the office with her.
I got a towel and showered.  While I was drying off, she came back with a
lock and a slip of paper.  The locker was in the same bank, near the far
end.  I put my gym things in there and locked it, then looked at my shoes
and socks.  She asked whether she could take them for a while, as evidence.
I knew I had a pair of "emergency" sandals in my hall locker, so I agreed.

   The nurse carefully felt my injury, and said there was good news and bad
news.  The good news was that there was nothing serious.  I just pushed it
too hard too soon.  The bad news was that all she could do for it was offer
me a couple of ibuprofen and write me an excuse slip for PE the rest of the
week.  I took her up on the note and pills.  As I was getting ready to
leave, she got a call from the office.  She passed on their request that I
come to the office after I ate lunch.  I acknowledged the message, and
left.

   EMILY

   After thirty years or so, English ended.  I still wanted to run and
hide. To cover myself.  Something.  Anything but walk around naked in this
big, invisible spotlight.  Even this deep in my safe place, I was very
aware that I was naked.  Nude.  Undressed.  Walking around with no clothes
on.  Dave was just as naked, but he seemed to have recovered from the
announcement.  He even responded to some requests on his way out of class,
and smiled.

   I shook my head and went deeper into my safe place.  I knew it was
anything but safe out there.  There were more Susans, more Jerrys, more
finger gangs.  I went even deeper, then put on my traveling face.  Nothing
around me was real.  And the way I thought I was couldn't be real.  It is
the most important thing in the world to get to History.  If it was any
less important that poor, naked, frightened girl couldn't do it.  But she
had to.  It was that urgent.

   It was not important for me to remember my trip from English to History.
A part of my mind decided it was important to notice how pale the light
made my reflection look.  She looked like all the blood had drained from
her face.  But the reflection was there and gone.  The important thing was
getting to class.  Another part of my mind noted the other naked people in
the halls, doing things with various students.  But even that wasn't
important.  I got to class, through the door.  Mr.  Moyer looked up as I
walked in and let my traveling face drop.  He looked shocked.  Then
concerned.  Odd.  He's seen me in my safe place before.

   We settled into the normal pattern of class, tying together the
discussions about regulations, laws, and treaties.  I can see how it would
be useful to know, but it was less immediate than the fact that I was
sitting there naked.  And that everyone there was very aware that I was
sitting there naked.  And thinking I was doing all those other things that
some of the other Participants were doing.  And trying to figure out how to
get me to do them with them.  Or how to keep me from doing something with
them.  And...

   It was time to go to Geometry.  With the rest of the class, I got up and
got ready to leave.  As I passed his desk, Mr.  Moyer looked like he wanted
to say something.  But he didn't.  I put on my traveling face and went to
my locker.  Keeping my intensity, I swapped books and took off for
geometry. I was so deep in my safe place that the halls took on an unreal
cast.  I saw the boys, naked and clothed, as little more than walking
erections.  They were going around homing in on the girls.  The naked girls
looked like little more than tits and pubic hair to me, and apparently to
the boys.  The other girls were just flashes of fabric.  The image was
disturbing, but I didn't know why.

   I got to class a little early.  Outside the door, I saw Perry laughing
and playing with some girls who were playing with his body.  Keeping the
urgency, I went through into the room.  Ms.  Lesmeister Watched me drop the
urgency and go to my safe place neutral expression.  She saw something that
made her suck in a gasping breath, but she recovered and slowly blew it
out. As I went back to my desk, Perry made his usual grand entrance.  Once
the bell rang, she asked him whether he needed relief.  He said yes, and
walked to the front of the room more slowly than he had the last two days.
While he was on his way, she looked a question at me and I shook my head.
She looked disappointed about that, but turned back to Perry.  She asked
whether he wanted help, and he actually seemed to be thinking about it
before he answered.  Something was definitely going on here.  She asked for
volunteers, and the usual mix of hands went up.

   She challenged him, clearly making reference to something they had
discussed before.  "Are you really as adventurous as you claimed?"

   He gulped nervously, then chose one of the boys.  Several of the girls
looked stunned.  The chosen boy looked excited.  Perry looked nervous.  He
wilted just a little as his chosen helper approached.  The boy set to work,
and proved to be quite expert with hand and mouth.  He seemed to bring
Perry to the edge a few times, backing him off all but the last.  When he
did let him cum, he took it in the mouth.  He swallowed the first bursts,
then sucked the rest like a thick milkshake through a straw.  Once again,
Perry's legs were rubbery as he was helped to his desk.  It was interesting
in an academic sort of way.  I don't suppose a hand or a mouth would be all
that different between a boy and a girl.  But I will probably never find
out.

   We went over a lot more about angles, and I made it a point to keep
track of it all.  In the whole unreal dream of the class, I kept the actual
subject stuff.  Class ended.  I gathered my stuff, and headed for the door.
Like Mr.  Moyer, she looked like she wanted to say something to me as I
passed her desk.  Like Mr.  Moyer, she didn't do so.  Traveling face on, I
did my OBL to get to my locker, switch books, and get to Physical Science.
Nobody bothered me, and I didn't notice anyone even trying.  For some
reason, that bothered me a little bit, but I shook it off.

   More toys in class today.  This time, a fish tank (without fish) with
slots for barriers and such, and a light with some cards and stuff.  Lots
of demonstrations of wave stuff.  I suppose it would have been kind of fun
if I hadn't spent the whole time horribly aware that I was sitting there
naked.  And that colored everything.  I was still so deep in my safe place
that nothing was real anymore.  In some ways, that was almost as scary as
the forced nakedness.  Almost.

   At the end of class, Dr.  Burns asked me to stay behind a moment and
help put away some of the demonstration toys.  After the class emptied out,
he asked me whether there was anything I would like to talk about.  I said
no, that the things in class were clear enough.  He asked point blank how
much I blamed him for what happened Monday.  I told him I didn't blame him
at all - just the boys.  He said that he was always available to talk, if I
wanted to.  Not just about class, about anything.  I thanked him, but said
I was not much of a talker.  I also said that I needed to meet someone for
lunch.  We were done with the toys anyway, so he thanked me and sent me on
my way.  I was a little late, which worried me a little.  We were going to
meet by the office, and look at the Talent Show decisions before going for
our food.

   I hope nothing else has happened.

   JOHN

   I hurried the short way from the nurse's office to the main bulletin
board outside the office.  I was concerned about what might happen to Emily
while she waited there for me.  I didn't think she was in any real danger
per se, but standing still anywhere in the halls for more than a few
seconds could start something very uncomfortable.  It would make her seem
visible and available for RRs.

   I needn't have worried.  As I approached the board, I saw her coming
down the hall.  Apparently, she was delayed, too.  I went over to her and
together we walked to the board.

   Some of the decisions we already knew about.  The Irish dancers would be
in costume, for diplomatic reasons, the rest of the Program Participants
would have to appear naked.  Others, we hoped for, and got.  Bodies, in
part or in whole, could temporarily be obscured by equipment necessary to
the performance.  It gave examples of musical instruments (such as
Clarise's cello), and magic props (for us.  Huzzah!).  The news got better:
Things which gave the appearance of nudity, and did not obscure primary or
secondary sexual anatomy (translation: groin, butt, and chest), would be
allowed.  And something we had not even thought to hope for.  No RRs would
be allowed during setup, rehearsal, or performance times for the show.  I'm
writing from memory, but it made it clear that it meant that for the entire
time set aside for setup, the entire rehearsal time (not just that for the
Participant(s) in question), and the entire performance time (not just that
for the individual Participant(s) in question), we would be safe from such
distractions.  I'm sure Perry could quote it letter for letter.  There was
one more thing, and not a positive for some Participants.  Those
Participants, the original eight as well as those added during the week,
who had already committed to doing the show before being named as Program
Participants (of either sort) were required to keep that commitment. 
Failure to do so would be a Program violation, with relevant consequences.
It would be treated like missing all or part of a Program day (which, in
effect, it was).  In other words, skip the show, and you spend another week
(or more) naked, and illness or the like is no excuse.

   After we read that, we headed off for lunch.  I was kinda nervous.  This
would be our first time actually eating lunch in the cafeteria since our
Program week started.  No more private dining room (ok, conference room)
for us.  On the way there, we passed a kaleidoscope of naked and dressed
bodies (some half dressed), talking, posing, touching and being touched,
and in a few cases engaging in blatant (and very public) PDAs or sex acts.
None of them seemed forced or anything like that.  I just slid deeper into
my safe place, and kept going.  I told her about the incidents in PE and
the locker room.  While she was too deep to show any emotion right now, she
said she was sorry it happened, and she would look out.  By the time our
OBLs had carried us to the serving line in the cafeteria, I was very deep.
It seemed that Emily was, too.

   While we waited in line, I noticed that no one was bothering us.  I know
the rules say we can eat lunch in peace, but in weeks past that had not
stopped some people.  Sometimes people would walk toward us, but when they
were close enough to see us clearly they changed their minds.  I don't know
whether it was our dead looks and posture or our reputation as a quick
ticket to Official Trouble.  Or both.  But I was still very aware that I
was stark raving naked, and standing fairly helplessly in a room full of
other people.  And that many of them were looking at me or us rather
thoroughly, if from a distance.  I felt their attention like a suffocating
pressure, closing in on me.  Deep in my safe place, I knew that I was in no
immediate danger so I dialed my emotional response down.

   I decided I needed my strength today, so I got a double cheeseburger,
along with my usual fries and milk.  Say what you will about much of what
they serve, this caf fries up a mean potato.

   Also I got a nice, large orange.  And some pudding for dessert.  What
can I say?  The food was free, after all.  Of course, TANSTAAFL was in full
operation: it was only free because I was standing here helplessly and
involuntarily naked, with every bit of my body hanging out for everyone to
see.
When we had our food, we went to our usual out of the way table.  The
usual crowd were mostly there, but there was plenty of room for us.  And
just like previous weeks, they largely left us alone to enjoy our food in
peace.  And I did enjoy it.  After the last couple of days, actually eating
the food at serving temperature was a nice change of pace.  It was just

better that way.

   Emily seemed to enjoy her lunch, too.

   About halfway through our feast, I noticed a ripple of reaction from our
table mates.  Someone was coming to the table.  I triggered the recorder in
my bag, took another bite of burger and waited.

   "John," I knew the voice, even before I turned around.  The coach's
assistant.  I turned to face him, still chewing and showing no emotion. 
This could go one of two ways.  He could confront me over the trouble he
got in because of me, or he could apologize.  I didn't know him well enough
to guess which.  His voice and body language were not much help.  He was
upset, but not furious or frightened.  I swallowed my food, and waited.

   "I ...  I wanted to say I'm sorry for what happened.  She said you
wanted to try it as a personal challenge.  The way she said it, it made
sense.  I never thought anything bad would happen to you, other than coming
in dead last.  I'm sorry, man."

   "I understand.  Thank you." He seemed unhappy at the lack of emotion in
my voice.  I think he would have preferred anger to that.

   "Are you going to be ok?" He sounded worried.

   "I should recover.  I will be out of PE for a couple of days.  In a way,
it worked out well.  When I went in early, I caught her and someone else
messing with my locker.  It would have been a lot worse if I had waited
'til the end of class."

   He had not heard about that, and asked me the details.  I told him the
girls' track coach could fill him in, and that I needed to finish my lunch
and get to the office.  From the sounds around the table, he was not the
only one disappointed by that response.  He said he understood, and offered
"If there's anything I can do..."

   I nodded in acknowledgment, then turned back to my food.  I allowed
myself to enjoy another byte of still warm cheeseburger, noting each taste,
smell, and texture it brought to my mouth.  I lost myself in the
experience.

   But all too soon, we were done.  And I had to get to the office, for
whatever (probably about the locker).  We got up and took care of our
trays, then headed for the door.  A couple of people moved as though they
were going to intercept us, but we had our Official Business faces on, and
one shied away.  The other was intercepted by friends, and pointed toward
other Participants in the room.

   Our OBLs carried us quickly to the office, through halls pulsing with
sex.  Or maybe that last part was just my imagination.  When we got to the
office, we were directed to the chairs just outside the principal's office.
As we sat there, I became more aware of my situation.  I was sitting there,
visible to anyone who took a little effort to look, naked.  Every normally
hidden part of me was hanging out there, for anyone to see.  And we were
sitting there like we were the ones in trouble.  I went deeper into my safe
place.  The room seemed a little fuzzy, and not much of anything mattered.

   The door opened, and a couple of boys walked out, looking dejected. 
Dejected, but dressed.  Maybe the whole world would not be naked by the end
of the week after all.  He came to the door, and invited me in.  Emily
started to follow, but he gestured for her to sit back down.  Curiouser and
curiouser.

   After I walked in, he closed the door and gestured me to a seat.

   "As a matter of policy, I have to do this in private.  I'm sorry.  Now,
there are two incidents we need to discuss.  First, I need you to describe
what happened at the track."

   I told him about it, every part I could remember.  I also told him about
the apology.

   He commented that the apology was both a good thing and a smart one.  I
began to suspect why we were alone.  "Is this being recorded?"

   "Yes.  I'm sorry, I should have made that clear in the beginning.  Will
that affect what you say in any way?" Talk about a loaded question.

   I assured him that it would not.  He asked that I hold any more
questions, except for clarification, until we were done.  I agreed.  I had
a pretty good idea what was going on.

   He asked me about the actions of the coach.  Why did he leave?  What did
he do before he left?  What provision did he make for our supervision and
safety?  How long was he gone?  What happened when he came back?  And so
on.

   After that, we went through the actions of the assistant.  And what he
told me, then and later.

   And then about the actions of the girl and the team member.

   Finally, he asked whether there was anything else I wanted to add about
what happened on the field.

   When we were done, I asked if he could turn off the recorder, claiming
it made me uncomfortable.  He did some things, and said that it was off. 
It was clearly not true, but I didn't blame him.  I asked him whether the
coach was in trouble.  He said that wasn't determined yet.  He explained
that an investigation was required, by law and District policy, whenever a
student is injured under certain circumstances.  Someone could claim, for
instance, that my reinjured side was due to his negligence.  I expressed my
confidence in the coach and the assistant (and the other assistants - there
were three in the class).  I expressed an honest hope that he would come
through it ok.

   Then we moved on to the locker room incident.  Again, he was thorough in
gathering facts about the actions of the (female) coach.  And my actions.
And those of the girls.  But his questioning was not as intense.  He asked
me about what was damaged.  I told him about my shoes, socks, towel, and
lock.  I also told him that the bag smelled somewhat of the perfume, but
that seemed to be fading.  I also told him that the coach had replaced the
lock and assigned a new locker (which I had already mentioned).

   He mentioned that the two girls (or their parents) would be required to
replace the damaged items, and those damaged in lockers next to that one.
He said I should go ahead and buy replacements, then give him the receipt.

   Then he asked me whether I wanted to press criminal charges against the
girls, over and above any disciplinary actions the school would take.  I
told him I wanted to think about it, but I was not inclined to.  He smiled
a little at that.

   We concluded the formal stuff, and this time he did turn off the
recorder.

   "For my own peace of mind, did I influence your response about the
charges?"

   "No, not really.  I hadn't really thought about that part, and I wanted
time to think about it.  I still do.  I know about Susan and her mother," I
rolled my eyes, "but I don't really know anything about the other girl. 
Has she been in a lot of trouble?"

   "Not a lot.  Pretty much none at all, until she started hanging around
Susan."

   I told him candidly that I liked the idea of holding the option open, as
a way to "encourage" the girls, and any more friends, to leave us alone. 
He told me that he understood.  It was getting close to the bell, so he
wrote late slips for the two of us and gave them to me.  As he walked me to
the door, he thanked me for my help and, on behalf of the school,
apologized for both incidents.  He turned to Emily, and apologized to her
for leaving her out there.

   I gave her her slip, and we headed for our classes.

   Chemistry was probably my favorite class.  This week, anyhow.  I walked
in, handed Dr.  Burns my tardy slip, and put on the blessedly concealing
lab coat.  It felt like everyone there was watching me, and for the most
part it was true.  I still knew I was naked under it.  Everyone there knew
I was naked under it.  I couldn't escape the attention, but at least I
could feel covered.  Even with my temporary covering, I remained deep in my
safe place.

   We got into more detail about Ph, acids and bases (aka alkalis), salts,
and that stuff.  We talked about what happens when you mix an acid with a
base (nothing fun).  When he asked for examples where we might do that in
"real life", one person said "making dinner" and another said "after
dinner".  Asked to elaborate on the second, the mouth that roared talked
about taking a couple of antacids.  Unfortunately, this got into a
discussion of acids and bases in our body.  And yes, someone actually made
the joke about "first base, second base, third base" while pointing to a
nearby girl.  When he got to "home plate" she responded "and you'll never
get to ANY of them!"

   Getting back on track, everyone knew about stomach acid, but we couldn't
agree on spit.  Of course, that was a good description of the class,
anyway. I suspect this has happened before, because he had us perform a
brief experiment to find the answer (complete with writeup, of course. 
Jeez!).  We used the Ph papers to test our mouths and get the answer
(base).

   Then some joker suggested that we should do the same thing for urine and
other bodily fluids.  I winced as he tried to volunteer me as a logical
source of samples.  Dr.  Burns declared that he didn't want to stink up the
room, then turned it around and gave it to us as a homework assignment (to
measure our own), complete with report (of course).  Someone threw a paper
wad at Mr.  Mouth, just as the bell rang.

   Regretfully, I took off the lab coat and hung it up.  With even more
regret, and a swan dive deeper into my safe place, I took off for my Health
and Humiliation class.

   Bridget met me outside the door, but we stood aside to let Susan storm
in, trailed by a cloud of reaching hands.

   Ms.  Prothrow was delighted to have a new model.  Once again, we moved
from STDs to anatomy and physiology.  Susan, of course, was anything but
thrilled.  As she moved to the spot I had occupied on Monday, she shot an
angry look at Bridget and me.  As she adjusted her position, Ms.  Prothrow
leaned in and said something quietly in her ear.  At a guess, something
like what she said to me on Monday.

   As she had with me, Ms.  Prothrow gave the class a guided tour of
Susan's genitals.  As she did so, Susan went through a variety of
expressions, some of which seemed to show involuntary arousal.  The latter
seemed to amuse some of our classmates, including Bridget.  When she was
done, she had us line up to do our individual inspections.  She reminded us
that we would get more points for more detailed descriptions, with more
sensory information.  She also warned us of dire consequences if we hurt
Susan.

   While we were waiting in line, we watched and listened to her responses
to the people in front of us.  In a distant, academic way I noted that she
seemed very responsive.  Meanwhile, the wait in line was annoying.  Bridget
was in front of me, and another girl was behind me.  She kept bumping into
me, and it was obvious that it was not accidental.  In part by the way she
rubbed my butt when "getting her balance back." After the fourth time, she
demanded that the person behind her (apparently a friend) quit pushing her.
Whether that was the cause or an excuse, it was clear that she posed no
real threat, so I kept my focus inside.

   I noticed Ms.  Prothrow sneaking hopeful glances at me, and noting my
lack of response.  While Bridget was taking her turn, we were reminded to
make our observations thorough.  I suspect that was aimed at me.  I got
myself into an attitude of indifference to the ordinary body part I was
about to describe.  It was really no more remarkable than an elbow or a
mouth.  When it came to my turn, I squatted down in front of her and took a
look at the lay of the land.  Keeping my internal recorders running, I
noted the matted pubic hair, the swollen inner lips, the wet look of her
vagina, perineum, and anus, and the like.  I reached forward to gather
tactile information, and she let out a shriek like I had stabbed her and
snapped her legs closed.  She barely missed trapping my head and hand in
the process.  Startled, I fell back on my heels.  Her crude attempt at
framing me might have worked, if Ms.  Prothrow had not been watching me so
closely.

   "He didn't even touch you yet!  I'm sure the office would be interested
in an apparent attempt to carry out your earlier threats.  Now behave." I
suspect she was more angry about killing the mood she was hoping to build
than about the attempted frame.  But I doubt that she was exactly pleased
about that, either.

   Subdued, Susan opened her legs again and repositioned herself.  We both
understood that now I could do something painful and she would not dare
complain.  And if she did, she would not be believed.  I noticed that her
inner lips were less swollen and her clitoris was less prominent.  I set my
fingers as though I was going to pinch something, then moved my hand toward
her clitoris.  She looked genuinely worried.  At the last moment, I moved
my hand down a little bit and used the fingers to gently spread the lips. I
noted the little dimple of the urethra, and the lack of any sign of a hymen
at her still moist vagina.  I noted the feel of the various parts.  Then I
leaned in and smelled.  Mostly, it was what I expected from such a body
part.  The most prominent smell was sweat, accented with mild touches of
urine and fecal residue.  The sweat was more reminiscent of the girls'
locker room than the boys', but otherwise seemed ordinary.  There was also
a vaguely musky, animal sort of smell that I didn't really recognize.  I
carefully collected some of the lubrication from just outside her vagina.
It felt a bit slippery, but didn't smell or taste like much of anything.

   I shrugged, then moved aside for the girl behind me.  I noticed Ms. 
Prothrow looking at my still flaccid (and dry) manhood, and looking very
disappointed.

   I went back to my desk, and wrote up my observations.  I covered my
visual, tactile, olfactory, and taste (whatever the word for that is)
observations.  The only real direct auditory observation was her shout,
which was not really a part of that body part.  While I did hear some
muttered references to it and a slang term for her vagina, I think they
were characterizing the whole girl.  I did mention her vocal responses to
others in line.

   By the time the whole class had gone through the line, there was no
question about her state of arousal.  She was dripping profusely into her
towel, and shifting around uncomfortably.  Her face was flushed, she was
perspiring visibly, and all the rest.  Ms.  Prothrow pointed out all of the
indicators, and then took pity on her and allowed her to finish herself
off. Of course, the narration distracted her a bit.  But it was certainly
an unusual way to end class.  She collected the descriptions, allowing
those last in line a few more minutes to write, and told us that tomorrow
we would be going more deeply into arousal and response, and that we should
read the relevant parts of our books.  Susan looked like she did not know
what to make of that, but was reasonably sure she did not like it.  While
we were gathering our things and preparing to leave, the phone rang.  She
answered it, acknowledged the message, and hung up.  She quietly said
something to Susan, then returned to her desk.

   Ms.  Prothrow sorted through the papers and looked at one.  As she read
it, she kind of slumped.  I guessed that it was my paper, and she was
disappointed with what she read.  She wrote something on the paper, then
looked at some others.

   When the bell rang, most of us made for the door.  As I passed her desk,
Ms.  Prothrow looked up at me with an expression I couldn't quite read. 
Her eyes seemed a bit distorted and glistened, as though they were
irritated or had fractions of tears in them.

   I headed off to Art Materials.



   EMILY

   Dr.  Burns hadn't delayed me all that long, but I was worried about
leaving John standing there outside the office.  I needn't have worried -
he was delayed, too.  We got together and went to look at the posted
decisions.  The news was good.  It could have been better: we could have
been allowed to use our costumes.  But other than that, it was better than
we had hoped.  I especially liked the ban on RRs at the setup, rehearsal,
and performance.

   Some, like Susan, were going to be less happy with the decisions.

   We headed urgently to the cafeteria.  Even deep in my safe place, I
couldn't help notice that The Halls Were Alive, With the Sounds...  (and
sights, and smells, and so on) of sex.

   As we quick walked, I noticed that John was not walking in his usual
way. I asked, and he told me about the incidents in PE and the locker room.
I expressed my sympathy, and told him I would watch for other attacks.  He
also warned me that he needed to go to the office after we ate.  I said I
would go with him.  It had to be better than standing around in the hallway
or (shudder) outside, waiting for increasingly intrusive RRs.

   We got our lunches, and went to our usual table.  I was surprised at how
much - and what kinds - of food he got.  But then I thought about it some
more.  I knew that some of them worked as comfort foods for him, and that
he would need some extra protein for the healing process.  Besides, it was
his body.

   I was well into enjoying my usual, when I saw someone walking toward us.
He was older, a senior I think, and athletic looking.  I turned on my
recorder, and braced for trouble.  He walked up to John, and said his name.
He was looking only at John, not at the naked girl facing him.  I wasn't
sure whether I was relieved or insulted.

   That was surprising.  He not only sincerely apologized to John, he
offered his support.

   We finished our lunch in peace, deep in our safe places.

   When we were done eating, we did an OBL to the office.  Only this time,
the "L" was more like "limp" than "lope".  Still, we had the attitude of
urgency.  If anyone thought about it, they probably figured we were headed
for the nurse's office.

   We must be yesterday's news by now.  When we got to the office, we were
directed to a couple of chairs to wait for Himself to be available.  The
same ones we had been in before, with Bridget.  No more dropping everything
to see us right away (sigh!).  We didn't have to wait too long.  After a
bit, the door opened and two boys, obviously in trouble, but not naked,
came out.  Must not have been a Program related offense.

   Principal Murrow came out and invited John in.  I moved to follow them,
but got the official cold shoulder.  Oh, well.  At least I was not out in
the hall with hands and eyes all over me.  While I was waiting, Ms. 
Ackerman came over and talked to me for a few minutes.  She told me what
was going on in there, an investigation of John's injury and property
damage.  She would have been there longer, but three girls were herded into
the office and referred to her.  She rolled her eyes, then made her face go
stern before turning to face them and wave them into her office.

   Was the office always so busy with discipline stuff?

   Eventually, John came out.  Principal Murrow was giving him a formal
apology on behalf of the school, which was interesting.  Then he turned to
me and apologized for leaving me out there.  I acknowledged it.  John
handed me a late slip, and we took off for class.  We split up, so he could
go to Chemistry and I could go to Aerobics.  I got a little jealous at the
thought that he would be wearing a lab coat for the next hour, while I
would be in the middle of all those eyes, naked as usual.  Damn him!

   On another happy note (yeah, right!), I found out that Susan has a PE
class at the same time as me.  Not the same one, thank God!  But she was in
there, "dressing" (by changing her shoes), when I went in to the boys'
locker room to change for my class.  She just shot me a dirty look and kept
going.  Luckily, her locker was not near mine.  Actually, it was not luck.
The Program lockers were spread out through the room on purpose.

   Keeping in mind what John told me, I packed my sitting towel, my shoes,
and my socks between my book bag and the door of the locker.  I also
activated the recorder before I locked things up.

   Class itself was a blur.  There were all the sleazy attempts at getting
a good look at what I would prefer to keep private, thank you very much. 
And the disconcerting and sometimes painful tit wobbles during some
exercises.  But nothing to write home (or here) about.  I spent the whole
time deep in my safe place, with a focus on the music and the movement.  It
was kinda like the state I'm in when I'm completely in the moment while
doing a magic routine.  I think it's like what athletes call being in the
zone.

   On the other hand, far too many people would just call it being zoned
out.

   The showers were more interesting.  The boys left me in peace, but they
went after the loudly protesting Susan in droves.  They had her bending,
twisting, and being soaped every which way.  She complained loudly, but her
nipples were at full attention as she granted their requests.  Interesting.
But then again, she always was looking for attention.

   When I got back to my locker, I was very careful while opening it. 
After what she did to John's locker, there wasn't any point in being
careless.  There were no strange smells (other than the generally strange
smells of the boys' locker room.  Ewww!), and nothing seemed to have been
disturbed.

   I dried off and got ready for French.  A couple of boys I didn't
recognize were approaching me when I looked at my watch and shifted from
walking dead to OBL.  If they said anything, I didn't hear it.  But it
didn't look like they were talking to anyone but each other.

   I took a longer way around to get to my locker, then looped by the
office on my way to class.  I took a quick glance at the Board and saw that
there didn't seem to be any changes there.  I got through the door and to
my seat just before the bell rang.  No demonstrations today.  We went
through the basics of declining.  A voice from somewhere in my safe little
room said that I had been doing that all week.  I shuddered, and slipped a
bit deeper into the safe place.  The voice didn't come back.

   The only interesting part of class was when one of the class clowns
started to get a bit out of hand.  Mme.  Bien moved to her desk, picked up
her pair of scissors, and looked pointedly at him.  He quieted real quick.

   The trip to Art Materials was kinda weird.  It seemed like some people
were watching me and talking about me, but not approaching me.  And when I
would get near such a group, they would go quiet until I was well past. 
One group even seemed to move out of my way.  They didn't seem hostile or
afraid, just...  odd.  The annoying voice was back, singing something about
paranoia.

   When I got to the Art room, I saw something unexpected and disturbing.
At the front of the class, the screen was lowered.  That part was not bad,
but the draped table, lights, and video camera were enough to send me
deeper into my safe place.  By the time I put down my book bag, the world
outside my safe place wasn't quite real anymore.  So when Ms.  Johnson
asked me whether I was wearing a Tunnel Snake, I didn't hesitate to say
yes. She asked whether I had one of the spares with me, and I said yes to
that, too.  I wasn't happy with where this was going, but it was almost
like it was happening to someone else.  She showed me something that looked
like a small speculum.  She reminded me that I had the right to refuse to
allow insertion of a foreign object, even by a teacher, then asked my
permission to use it to help show the Tunnel Snake in place.  In an
emotionless voice, I agreed.

   By the time she had me on my back on the table, with my legs spread and
lifted, and had the lights and camera adjusted, the rest of the class was
in the room and at their tables.  John looked deep in his safe place, a bad
sign for his emotional state.  Ms.  Johnson had someone dim the lights, and
the screen came to life with a closeup of my pussy.

   "Alright, class.  Settle down and pay attention." That last part was
hardly necessary.  All eyes seemed riveted to the five foot tall vulva on
the screen, or running back and forth between that, me, and her.  "I am
going to show you something remarkable, and then tell you what it has to do
with this class."

   One of the boys at the back said "We've seen those before." and there
was a general chuckle through the room.

   "Not quite.  You are about to see something right out of classical
Freudian nightmares." Against the background of skeptical muttering, she
continued.  "We start with a nice, apparently ordinary vulva.  While you
are looking, note that there are no signs of arousal." She had me pull my
lips open and hold them that way.  "Again, nothing unusual.  all the usual
parts.  Urethra, clitoris (which is not erect, and is therefore a bit hard
to make out), and, of course, her vagina." She quietly advised me to relax,
and that she would be careful.  She gently slid the mini speculum in, then
continued.  "But now we come to the remarkable part!" She opened my vagina,
exposing what seemed to be sharp, pointy teeth.  There were gasps from the
class.  She took the speculum out, and allowed me to sit up.  She moved to
the computer on her desk, and called the image with the teeth back up on
the screen.  She turned, and as she talked she turned off the photo lights.


   "Alright, who can tell me the classical name for what we just saw?"

   After a few false starts of "creepy" "scary", and "fucking dangerous!",
Someone called out "Vagina Dentata.  But it's supposed to be a myth!"

   "Very good.  Lights, please." One of the girls near the door obliged. 
"And yes, it is a myth.  But it is also a psychologically powerful image.
How many of you young men lost your erections when you saw that?" There
were a lot of murmurs, but no hands appeared.  "You don't have to say it,
your reactions are enough.  That is the stuff of nightmares.  It is also
not what it seems to be." She turned to me and asked for the spare.  I gave
it to her and she dismissed me to my seat.

   "What you actually saw was part of a remarkable protective device
created by a couple of your classmates.  They call it the Tunnel Snake, and
it has apparently been approved at the national level for use by Program
Participants.  I won't go into all of its functions here, but I did want to
talk about these teeth.  Or rather, I would like to have the inventor do
so. John, could you come up and tell us about the construction of these
teeth?"

   John tried talking from his seat, but she told him to come to the front.
He briefly talked about making the models, casting the mold, and then using
the mold with colored latex and the spring steel cores.  While he was
talking, the phone rang and she answered it.  She acknowledged something,
hung up, and turned her attention back to John.  When he finished, she let
him go back to his seat.

   "While you are not likely to be quite that exact or elaborate, you will
be doing something similar in this class.  You should have had no trouble
understanding the processes of making and using the molds, since we have
just covered that here.  Other than the size, there was one very important
difference.  He embedded something in the product while the material was
getting ready to set." She went on about other situations in which people
would do the same thing, embedding elements for stiffening and/or
articulating the end result.

   We went on to a class exercise where we poured a quick setting resin
into our plaster finger molds, then added a popsicle stick handle.  We
would let them cure overnight.  After I made my pour, she came over and
handed me a note.  It said that we were to go to the office after class.

   Now what?

   As class was ending, we cleaned up.  I showed the note to John.  Since
we had come to class with everything we needed to take home, we went right
to the office.  Principal Murrow was busy, and we were told to go see Ms.
Ackerman.  We knocked on her door, and the vice principal invited us in. 
She invited us to sit, then got down to business.

   "Well, I have good news, news, and potentially bad news.  First, the
good news.  Pending a safety review, the Federal Office Of Social Awareness
has approved your IVDs.  You should have an email about that at the company
email address you gave them.  Congratulations.  In addition, they were very
impressed with your use of the digital recorders, and will recommend that
schools either encourage their use or supply them for use by Participants.
They would like you to write a small article about what features are
necessary, desirable, or undesirable, for their next bulletin.  It will go
along with their article recommending them.  Would you be willing to do
that?"

   We looked at each other, exchanged a brief conversation in gestures, and
then agreed.

   "Wonderful.  The information about the article will also be at your
email address.  As a result of your innovations, and your help with
defusing a potential international incident, you have been nominated for
their Participant of the Year award, which includes a substantial
scholarship and other goodies."

   "But something has come up that might keep you from winning that award.
There is a rumor running around the school that you two are never available
for requests, and that you ignore what requests are made.  I know that some
of that comes from the amount of time you have spent in the office, through
no fault of your own.  But some of it seems to be a deliberately created
rumor.  And we have a specific complaint from two boys that today you," she
looked at me, "refused to even acknowledge their request and hurried off
instead."

   "When?  Where?" I was afraid it was the bathroom boys.

   "Sixth period today, at the end of the period, in the boys' locker
room."

   That was a relief.  I vaguely remembered the two boys approaching me. 
"Two boys did walk toward me while I was on my way out the door, but they
didn't make any request that I heard."

   "According to them, they asked you to pose.  You refused, then left."

   "That didn't happen"

   "We have a problem here.  People across the board are saying that you
are virtually impossible to talk to between classes, and in class you are
so focused on the lesson that you would not notice it if you were on fire.
You have been honest as long as I have known you, but there is nothing in
their story that is out of character for you.  And neither of the boys has
any record of such lies."

   "Unless we can find some witness to back you up, we are going to have to
operate on the assumption that they are telling the truth.  That doesn't
mean you are not telling the truth as you see it.  It just means you were
not paying attention.  Now, why don't you tell me everything you remember."


   "There's not much to tell.  I showered and got my stuff after Aerobics.
I put my watch on, and noticed I wanted to hurry to get to French.  As I
walked toward the door to the hall, I noticed two boys coming toward me. 
They were pretty far away, so I just kept going.  I went out the door, and
headed to my locker to get my French stuff."

   "What happened in the shower?"

   "The boys were too busy climbing all over Susan Conway to pay much
attention to me.  I washed.  I rinsed.  I dried off."

   John jumped in.  "Wait a minute.  Susan's in your class?"

   "No, she just has a PE class at the same time as mine."

   "Did she do anything to your locker?"

   "Wait a minute!" I dug in my bag.  The recorder was still on!  "I turned
on my recorder before I put the bag in my locker, and I never turned it
off." I held it up and turned it off.  I handed it to her.

   "Are you sure you want to do this?  If it supports their story, we will
have to take action."

   I thought about it for a second.  "I'm sure."

   She downloaded the file, commenting that it was more than three hours
worth of data.  I told her that was about right, since I started it at the
beginning of sixth period.  While she continued to download, she checked
the time display on the recorder against the official school clock.  There
was a difference of two minutes, which she wrote down.  We talked about
what she would listen to.  It would not be just the time at the end of that
class.  She would also listen to the passing period between my last two
classes and the trip from Art Materials to the office.

   While she could find them by the time signatures, she also had her
program making a graph of the contents, volume vs time.  That way, she
could just click on the parts where there was something to listen to.  We
were all surprised to see a couple of minutes of sound in the middle of
sixth period, but we skipped that for the moment and started where the
noise started up indicating the end of period rush.  The file finished
downloading, so she disconnected my recorder and returned it to me.

   She started by playing the sounds in a fast-forward mode, marking when
the quality of the sound changed significantly.  She marked two places on
the recording.  We were pretty sure that they were the places where I
opened my locker and took out the bag, and the one where I went through the
locker room door into the hall.  This whole thing was starting to make me
nervous, and I let myself drift deeper into my safe place.  I let my
not-conscious mind review my recent memories for any relevant information.

   All I really got was the boys keeping away from me and swarming over
Susan, and wondering what the heck the recorder taped in the middle of
class.

   She started the playback when I opened my locker.  Lots of background
noise of people talking, but nothing nearby.  Even the snap of a towel and
the subsequent yelp was at a distance.  We could hear my breathing and
moving things around while I "dressed".  Compared to the talking, those
sounds were loud.  Then the sound started shifting, as I walked toward the
door.  As the general hum of voices faded a bit, two other voices became
faintly noticeable.  They were hard to make out, but cranking the volume
up, we heard "...right locker.  Look out, she's leaving!" and a little
louder (but still soft and distant) as the sound shifted "Hey, naked
gir..." The sound from the locker room cut off as the door closed and I
OBL'd down the hall.

   We listened three times, but didn't get any more.

   "Well, it is clear that their version is not true.  They did not make a
request, they just tried to greet you..."

   "Or one of the other Program girls." I pointed out.

   "...in a somewhat rude manner.  I will need to have another talk with
them."

   "While we're here, could we listen to that bit in the middle of class?
I'm curious about it."

   "Alright." She moved the mouse and clicked.

   It was Susan and the boys.  She was showing them a locker, probably
mine, and promising to do anything they wanted if they did what she said.
She wanted them to make requests while their target was still in the locker
room, taking them as far as they could for as long as they could, until
their victim refused something.  Then they should report it to the office.
She told them that they would not be doing anything they could get in
trouble for, but promised her favors in return for doing it.  Then they
left.

   "Well.  That certainly puts things in a different light.  Excuse me a
moment." She left the office.

   She came back in a moment later.  "If they haven't left yet, I will be
having a talk with them.  In the meantime, we still have a problem. 
Whatever her motivations, she was essentially correct in what she told them
and even in what she encouraged them to do.  If they had not lied, they
would not have been in any sort of trouble for carrying out her plan."

   John spoke up.  "I would bet that there was more to it.  Something she
was not telling them."

   "I dare say you're right.  But whatever it was didn't happen, so we can
only wonder what it was.  In the meantime, we still have a problem.  Both
of you have done everything you could this week to make yourselves seem to
be unavailable for requests.  That is not acceptable.  I have seen you
rushing through the halls like you were about to be late for class, when
you really had time to go to the far end of the school and back before the
bell.  As I said before, students who I trust, who have nothing against
either of you and some of whom even like you, have commented that you have
been completely unavailable.  From what they have said, some of them would
just like to use the opportunity to talk with you.  They would be your
friends, if you would let them."

   "I am also starting to hear darker rumors.  Rumors with a kernel of
truth.  While some of the specifics are exaggerated, they basically say you
two have seriously harmed anyone who even tried to get a reasonable request
from you outside of class.  They blame you for everyone who ended up in the
program this week, sometimes even including the other six who started the
week with you.  And for the group that left in handcuffs.  And even for the
boys who ended up in the nurse's office, then mine, for a fight over a
sandwich.  I suspect someone is deliberately starting some of them, but
enough of them have a kernel of truth to give the whole bunch credibility.
I suppose it says something when some of the students actually came to me
to ask about them."

   She shook her head, getting back on track.  "Be that as it may, your
isolation feeds such rumors.  For the good of the school, the Program, and
even yourselves, some things have to change.  Starting tomorrow, you have
to be available.  For instance, when you have time between classes - and I
know when and where your classes are - you will walk from one class to the
other and listen carefully for anyone trying to talk to you.  If they do,
you will stop and listen.  And respond.  If someone makes a reasonable
request, you will grant it.  If you think it is unreasonable, have them
speak to me.  If you are afraid of being late to class, you should be aware
that your teachers have been briefed to cut Participants considerable slack
for such tardiness.  But you are free to hurry once the bell rings."

   "In the morning, you will undress at the designated place and put your
clothes in the proper box.  You will remain there, on display, for at least
five minutes.  If the weather is bad, you will spend that five minutes in
the front hallway.  Either way, you will listen for and respond to
reasonable requests.  With the Talent Show and the like, I will not add
such requirements for when you leave."

   "I will be encouraging certain trusted students to stop you at various
times and places, and make requests.  They will be reasonable and
respectful, but they will tell me exactly what happens.  Do you both
understand this?" She looked at me, then at John.  We both nodded.

   "Very well.  You are free to go.  Congratulations again on the news from
National."

   When we got to the hall, there weren't too many people left.  The only
people standing around outside the door seemed to be students waiting for
their rides or the like.  We halfheartedly did our quick dress on the way
out the door, then headed home.

   There seemed to be nothing left to say.

   End Part 7

   Part 8

   JOHN

   When I got to Art Materials, it was obvious that someone was going to be
posing.  I was hoping it would be one of the later draftees, serving their
sentence for something they did.

   No such luck.  It was Emily.  About halfway through the introduction, I
got it.  She was going to show the Tunnel Snake.  I flinched when I saw
that big thing she used to spread Emily's vagina open to show the teeth. 
Was that the thing I heard women complaining about from their "annual
inspection" as my mom calls it?  No wonder they complain.  It looked huge.

   Once everyone got a good enough look to be able to identify the teeth,
she let Emily go back to her seat.  She talked a little about the myth of
Vagina Dentata, and then about the Tunnel Snake.

   But I didn't get off entirely free.  She had me explain the way I made
the teeth, with everyone watching.  I told them about dipping the wires in
resin and letting that harden, then pouring the latex and setting the
coated wires in the filled molds.  It was a short presentation, but she
seemed to be pleased with it.

   The rest of class was pretty routine.  At the end, we got a note to go
to the office.

   I needed to go there anyway, to pick up my stuff.

   When we arrived at the office, Emily asked about the summons while I
packed the Boombox and flashpots in the duffel bag I brought for the
purpose.  She was told that Principal Murrow was busy and we were to see
Vice Principal Ackerman.  We went and knocked at her door.

   She had good news and bad news for us.  The good news was that our IVDs
were accepted by the Federal Office Of Social Awareness.  They also wanted
us to write an article about our recorders for their newsletter, and they
put us up for some award.

   The bad news was another false accusation engineered by Susan.  I was
about ready to declare my intention to press charges after all, but I found
out that she wasn't told about that pending choice until the end of the
day. I bet she was the one in with Principal Murrow when we got to the
office.

   While the accusation itself got cleared up thanks yet again to a
recording, there was enough fact in it to prompt action.  We were not
making ourselves available enough, according to Ms.  Ackerman.  And to be
honest, she was quite right.  We had made one major tactical error, by
using the same approaches for too long and too many times.  Now we would
have to undress in a "normal" way, at the designated place, and then stand
there and be available for groping for at least five minutes.  And we could
only use the OBL when we really were in danger of being late, or already
were late.  Otherwise, we had to walk.  And she would be checking on us,
directly and through "trusted students".  She would even have some of those
students make Reasonable Requests at random times and places.  Damn!

   We could still work around this, but it would take more work and
flexibility.  A challenge.

   By the time we were leaving, few people were left and almost none were
paying any attention to the door.  We went through the quick changes
anyway. She went first, then I passed her the duffel and pack and did the
same.  I took them back from her once I was outside and dressed.

   We walked toward my house, so we could put the equipment away.  On the
way, we discussed the problem from the perspective of our area of
expertise: the principles of magic.  If we were to be standing naked and
vulnerable for five minutes in that designated place, we would need a very
long distraction or series of distractions to avoid undue attention.

   What did we know about the situation?  The program was no longer all
that novel.  Several sets of people had already gone through it.  Our group
was not even novel: tomorrow would be our third day of stripping there and
our fourth day of walking the halls naked.  Some of the participants were
providing some little bits of novelty by their performances while
stripping. Especially those who were having a hard time of it, and those
who had adapted quickly and whole heartedly.

   This morning was a hit, because it was so different from all the other
morning strips.  It was a show, of sorts.  But it did not last five
minutes, and it only featured one person.  We needed more time, more
novelty, and more people to draw the needed attention.  What we really
needed was two shows, one for each of the remaining days.

   Emily said that it would be better if the shows were, or seemed to be,
arranged by someone other than us.  She also came up with a killer idea for
Friday morning: a naked Talent Show preview.  Those of us who had to strip
in the morning anyway, and would be performing naked that night, could each
give a small sample of things to come.

   I figured that Perry would be the ideal person to organize it.  He was
the star of this morning's event, and could MC the other two.  He could
talk to the others at the runthrough tomorrow night and set up the previews
then.  In fact, any of us who had to cut for time could do part of what we
cut there.  We could be somewhere in the middle, having served our five
minutes while others were drawing attention, and could then duck inside
once attention was safely shifted off of us again.

   All we would really need was a Boombox, a wireless mic for Perry, and
appropriate music and introductions.  And whatever we would need for the
sample tricks.

   That still left tomorrow.  Something that would appeal to Perry's vanity
and thirst for attention.  Emily came up with the idea of a talk show
format.  He could make a few comments about arriving Participants, give
them a chance to make comments, and encourage them to strip down there.  He
could easily do that for more than five minutes, and it would be novel
enough to draw almost all of the attention.  After our five minutes, we
could walk inside while he keeps on with the show out there.

   In terms of audience psychology, it should work just fine.  Other than
one or more of the VP's agents, few, if any, people should even see us if
we stand still.

   For the rest, we could play on the zombie rumor.  Not camp it up like
Night of The Living Dead, but just dive down so deep in our safe places
that we don't react to the touches or the posing positions (but we do hear
and act on the requests, as long as they are reasonable).  It would be a
small audience, but the psychology would be the same.  Playing with an
enthusiastic Participant would be fun for most people.  For many people,
playing with a reluctant or defensive Participant (especially a new one)
would also have its attractions.  But interacting with someone who does not
react is boring and a little distasteful.  Sort of one step removed from
necrophilia.  With so many other Participants available, we would not be
worth the effort.

   I suspect that is part of what we have already seen.  A large part.

   We got to my house, and I saw that Mom was home.  She had taken part of
the day off to get ready for out visitor.  That was convenient.  I told her
about the shoes, and asked her if we could give Emily a ride home.  She
agreed.

   She was very unhappy about the shoe trip, because there was no time to
shop.  We had to "man shop" so we could get back in time to get Dinner in
the oven.  On the other hand, she had been complaining about how ratty my
shoes were starting to look, so she was happy to be replacing them. 
Especially on someone else's dime.  We got the same kind I had before, a
half size bigger.  I was surprised how much they cost, because we had
gotten them on sale before.

   It was a good thing I had almost no homework, because the rest of the
evening was very busy.  I called Perry, and pretty soon it was "his idea"
to do the Perry Show the next morning.  I agreed to supply the mic and
Boombox, and the intro tape.  No flashes this time.

   I told him about the idea for Friday, and he liked it.  He would run
with it.

   I dove into preparations for the preview show, then got ready for
dinner. When I came down, Dad was telling Mom that they had determined that
the Participant selection fraud was pretty clearly Bertha Conway, but they
couldn't absolutely prove it wasn't an extremely good frame.  We shared our
frustration about that.

   Brendan arrived, and I shifted into Fellow Magician mode (my persona
from classes, etc.).  He brought a bottle of wine (apparently a nice one)
as a traditional gift.  My folks appreciated the gesture, and the wine
(which the three of them shared at dinner).  It was a pleasant meal, with
nothing important said or done.

   We were just starting on our dessert when Emily and her parents arrived.
They joined us, and we all relaxed for a few more minutes.

   Emily and I took my parents down to the workshop and ran them quickly
through the cues.  We had kept them simple anyway, because they would be
done by overworked teens at the show.  My Dad went up to get our audience,
while we "changed" for out performance.  In a way, this was the hardest
part: performing naked in front of each other's parents.  But it was too
late to worry about that.
The show went well.  Mrs.  Watson made a kind of gurgling sound when
Emily was handling "my" genitals, but she laughed the hardest at the "Still
growing those" line in Zigzag.  They all joined in with gusto on the fourth
and later repeats of "Nothing up my sleeve!" and laughed appreciatively at
the cartoon clip.  The vanishes, productions, and transformations went
smoothly.  Most of the jokes were well received, but a few died.  I

expected that of a couple of them; they were school in-jokes.

   After the finale, we put on robes and all went upstairs for the reviews.
We got a couple of sodas, and the adults got coffee or wine.  First, we
asked for overall impressions.  Both sets of parents loved the overall
effect, and Brendan liked it but said it could stand some tightening up in
spots.  We got some good feedback from my folks about the cues, and decided
to change a couple to make them easier.  Emily's folks admitted their
prejudices, then gave us their high and low points.  Brendan was
complimentary, but gave some detailed comments about weak spots and
suggested improvements.  He was great.

   After we were done, I went down to the workshop and got the skeleton.  I
asked him to make sure it was what he wanted, and he checked it over.  He
pronounced himself satisfied, and I packaged it for him to take along. 
Before I forgot, I got on the computer and refunded his shipping and
handling fee.  Business is business, and all that.

   We all talked and swapped stories, then our guests took their leave. 
Brendan asked us to let him know how the performance turned out.  We
promised we would.

   I cleared up a few things and got ready for tomorrow.  My homework was
done, and I was dressed for bed.  I was too tired to do more online than
scan for business related emails and orders.  I made a note to send the
Federal Office Of Social Awareness the sample IVDs for their safety
testing. Then I got to bed.

   I was asleep almost before my head hit the pillow.

   EMILY

   Well, that was interesting.  And kind of creepy and disturbing, in
parts.

   When I got home, I checked the email and got the details Ms.  Ackerman
mentioned.  We had a little over a week for the article, so we could wait
until the weekend.  I hurried through my homework and made sure this
annoying journal was up to date.  When the 'rents got home, I told them
about the approval, article, and possible award.  They were thrilled.

   Dinner was fairly simple, because of the upcoming performance.  We
learned the hard way about fancy dishes before shows.  Mom and Dad did all
the work tonight, leaving me free to prepare.  I was ok while doing my
stage/close makeup on my face, but it was kind of weird doing the body
makeup.  There was not much, 'cause like the face makeup it had to look
right close up as well as on stage.  I dressed for the trip to John's, and
went down to eat.

   We had dessert at John's place, and relaxed a few minutes.  Well, they
relaxed anyway.  Brendan was friendly and funny, a genuinely nice guy.  We
took John's parents down to the workshop stage.  While John ran them
through the tech cues, I changed out of my clothes and into my robe.  It's
kinda funny to think that they were going to see me naked in a few minutes,
but I didn't let them see me change clothes.  How was I going to survive
Friday?

   After we ran through the cues and checked the props and equipment, I
went up and told our "audience" that immediate seating was available
downstairs.  While I was doing that, John was changing.  When they were
seated, we cued the music and I was completely The Magician.

   One thing that threatened to crack the mask was the surprising extent to
which ALL the adults were looking us over.  It was fairly easy to deal with
the thought of Brendan, he was really just an audience member.  But the way
John's father checked me out was a bit disturbing.  And the way my OWN
father seemed to take in all the details just sort of creeped me out.  And
the mothers!  The both looked me over they way girls check out the
competition in locker rooms and the like.  Sheesh!  I filed it all away for
after the show, and kept The Magician firmly in place.  John didn't even
seem to notice the ways he was checked out.

   I think the whole business with me handling John's detached package kind
of got to my mom.  I wasn't sure whether it was the whole idea of a cock
and balls being the center of that much of the act, or the fact that I was
handling what was supposed to be someone's privates.

   The act went smoothly, with a good laugh at my boobs comment in Zigzag.
After the finale, we took our bows and then jumped into our robes for the
postmortem.  John's folks gave us good info about the cues, and we had to
change a couple.  My mom and dad gave a good idea of the overall
impression. But Brendan was a whole Masters Class in one person.  His
critiques were detailed, and his suggestions ranged from some timing
changes in Moonglow Cock to darkening the makeup on my chest between my
boobs a little to make them stand out more.  It was amazing.

   The adults relaxed while John and I went downstairs.  We quickly
dressed, then brought up the skeleton Brendan had ordered.  He liked it,
and took it with him.

   On the way home, Mom was acting kind of funny.  Finally, I asked her to
spill it.  She got all sentimental about how grown up I was becoming, and
how I had grown into such a beautiful young woman.  And too soon I would be
off on my own, and maybe married and all that.  Urgh!  It was worse than
when she was looking at me naked!  I reminded her that I was only fourteen
years old and still had a lot of growing and school to go.  I don't think
it worked.

   By this time we were home and inside, so I excused myself and dashed up
to shower and wash off all the makeup.  The last thing I need for Friday is
a rash from wearing the body makeup all night.  Or for tomorrow at school.

   My soft, ankle length nightgown felt wonderful as I got ready for bed. I
wished the 'rents goodnight, and they said how proud they were, then wished
me goodnight.  I snuggled under the covers, burrowing into their soft
embrace and let my mind wander as I drifted off to sleep.

   End Part 8