This story is fiction. Actually, the setting of an artificial world in Space and the year being 2109 should have been enough to clue you in about that.
I don't care how old are. I don't care how young you are. However, the law does care, so if you are too young, go away (or at least try not to get caught).
If this story is against the law where you live, then like the young folk, go away. Or at least...
(the most disturbing part of all: Anzu puts her clothes back on!)
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(The most shocking incident of all… Anzu puts her clothes back on!!)
I’m back in school,
walking through the hall to my next class.
I see
Except me. I’m not allowed to be naked. I feel a deep shame come over me. What have I done to deserve this? I walk faster, wanting to get away. I don’t want them to see me like this. Why do I have wear clothes? It isn’t fair.
I think maybe it’s
because I’ve got my mama’s style but I’m yesterday’s child. Have I become jaded? I think that’s where it’s at but is that
where it’s ‘sposed to be?
I woke up, and the song
on the clock was by a band called “Aerosmith,” whatever that is. Somebody who makes aerospace hardware, maybe?
I noted with glee that I
was indeed naked, but my smile faded as I realized that I’d be putting my
clothes back on as soon as I got to school.
But that’s silly. Everybody else
will be dressed, too. Everybody except
this week’s Program kids.
A couple of minutes in
the bathroom, a shower, refresh the shave, brush the teeth, floss, and don’t
forget what I’m taking with me today. I reminded
myself that I needed to leave a bit early so I could get to Takahashi’s office
before the new Program kids started showing up.
I went downstairs and
joined Dad for breakfast. Bacon and eggs
were waiting for me, and he held up a slice of toast in one hand and pointed to
a selection of jams with the other.
“The guava looks great,”
I told him as I took my seat.
“Guava it is,” Dad
chirped as he slid the jar over to me.
We ate, and talked about
my weekend at Holly-Kon and about the Nude Walk. Dad hinted that he might be concerned about
whether or not I’d used too many psychtives, out of stress, and I hinted that
no, I’d been fine, and only used a little, and that it wasn’t that
stressful. Then of course he asked me
how I felt about the fact that I would be getting dressed.
“Sometimes it’s nice to
be the center of attention,” I admitted, “but not all the time. It’ll be nice to be able to fade into the
crowd again.”
Dad nodded. Then he scratched his nose, which he does
sometimes when he’s thinking over something.
“Anzu,” he started, “I
don’t pretend to understand what you’ve been going through this week. I mean, I imagine what it would be like for
me, or what it would’ve been like for me at your age, but I don’t really know.”
“Thanks,” I told
him. “It’s really annoying when somebody
says,” I switched to a falsetto, “ ‘I know JUST how you feel!’ “ I resumed my normal voice. “Oh no you do not. So thanks for not saying it.”
Dad chuckled before
asking, “Is there anything you’re going to miss about being in the Program?”
Ah, so that’s what he
was getting at.
“Yes,” I admitted, “a
few things. I’ll have to dress each
morning and won’t get down in time to have breakfast with you. And it was kind of exciting, being able to do
things that would normally get me branded the Great Whore of Babylon, but it’s
OK because hey, the Program. I’m going
to have to go back to being a good girl again.
Well…” I took a bite of egg. “Mostly a good girl. I’ve got two lovers now, and I ain’t giving
either one up.”
“I’ll drink to that,”
Dad laughed, raising his glass of acai juice.
I raised my own glass,
and we drained the juice together.
“Another thing,” Dad
continued, “is exactly how much running around naked are you going to do now
that your week is over?”
“I’ll skinnydip if
others are doing it. I don’t mind being
seen; I just don’t want to be the only nekkid chick around.” I ate the last of my toast. “And,” I added, “I’m going to find or start
a nude rave. It’s just too
fantastic.” I polished off the
bacon. “Oh, and each Sunday I’m going to
be nude for tutoring.”
“Steve’ll like that!”
Dad laughed. We talked about nothing
much as we finished breakfast, and again I helped him gather dishes. I was almost out the door when he called out,
“Figured out which way you swing?”
I knew he was going to
bring that up. I’d almost decided he
wouldn’t, but then he did.
“I’m amphibious,” I
called back, “and not just of the body, but of the heart. Botilda isn’t just a friend or somebody to
scratch my itch; we’re in love. Like you
and Mom are in love.”
I was actually taking my
first step out the door when he called, “What about Bret?”
“Bret…” I hesitated, and looked around before
answering, though there was no reason to expect Bret to be there, and of course
he wasn’t. “I really like him, Dad. He’s a good guy, and he turns me on, and I
get fluttery around him.”
I could feel myself
getting fluttery. I needed to finish this
and get going.
“I’m crushing, that’s
for sure. But I don’t know if I love
him. Botilda I love.”
“That’s cool, Anzu,” Dad
shouted from the other room. “Just
remember to think it through when you get fluttery. Before you say something like ‘I love you
Bret.’ Now get to school.”
Yeah, to school. As I got on my bike I thought it was going to
be strange wearing clothes. And then I
thought how strange it was that I thought it would be strange to NOT be naked
in school. Last Thursday Botilda had
asked me if I’d take another week in the Program if Takahashi offered it to
me. I’d said no, but would I? I wasn’t sure.
No more RRs. I’d really started liking those. And no more men’s locker room. Ah, what a view!
On the other hand, I
wouldn’t always be in front of the class, and I wouldn’t be expected to put out
for anybody who wanted to squeeze a tit or rub a pussy. I wasn’t always in a mood to be groped, and
it might be nice not to be expected to be groped. And I could still be naked outside of school.
And sex. I wouldn’t be having it in school, but with a
girlfriend and a boyfriend, both of whom thought I was much hotter than I
really am, I wasn’t going to be doing without sex. Of course there would be Program
participants, and I could do a bit of in-school stuff with them. I needed to take it easy, though, and
remember how it was for me when my week started.
I arrived at school, clicked
my bike into the rack, grabbed the item I was bringing, and walked into school,
right past the sign.
GERARD O’NEILL
HIGH SCHOOL
PROGRAM PARTICIPANTS
PLEASE REPORT TO
PRINCIPAL’S OFFICE TO
STRIP OR DRESS
GO ROCKETS BEAT GODDARD!!
We probably would beat
As soon as I got in the
door, RRs started coming. I granted them
of course; this would be my last chance.
I just soaked up all the hands on my body: the squeezing of a breast,
the stroke of my butt, and I took the risk of being late to let a cute guy finger
me a little.
I wasn’t the only one
getting this kind of attention, though.
I saw Bridget, kissing Elmin while two guys I didn’t know fingered and
carressed her. I caught a glimpse of
Marsha bent over with her hands on the wall, getting it hard and fast from Mbwana
Olsen, who was sometimes mistaken for a girl when dressed. It was the clear, pale skin, rounded face,
and platinum blond hair almost to the shoulders that did it. Well, nobody could think he was a girl now.
Then I saw something
that almost made me come, just seeing it.
You can probably guess: it was Jeness, and she was surrounded by women. Naked ones.
They were all pressed against her, touching her, rubbing her, and they
took turns kissing her, deep and with lots of tongue. Jeness was crying, her face flushed and the
tears just streaming. The women around
her were giggling.
I wanted to just stand
there and watch, but they started to pull her into a room. I started to follow, then stopped, then took
half a step and just froze, not knowing what to do. I wanted to get in on this, but knew that
would be wrong.
Jeness saw me, and our
eyes locked. She moved her mouth as she
was pulled into the room. I’m no lip
reader, but the look in her eyes was enough that, even from five metres away, I
could tell what she was trying to say to me: “Please. Help.”
I knew I should do
something. These women were going to
make Jeness do things she didn’t want to do.
To rape her, in a sense. It
wouldn’t be rape in any legal sense, and it wouldn’t get the women doing it to
her in any trouble. Jeness was
consenting, to everything. Her
tormentors were immune to punishment.
Which brought up the
question: exactly what could I do? Stalk
into the room, plant my hands on my hips and command: “STOP RIGHT THERE!” or
something like that? And suppose they
didn’t care to stop, then what? Threaten
to rat on them? Rat on them for what? Again, Jeness was consenting to everything.
Should I intervene
physically? There were a few many for
that; even if none of them had fight training or experience. In movies a woman my size might beat up a
whole room full of trained, ruthless men twice her size. But this wasn’t a movie, and I’m not an
action hero.
Why should I save her
ass anyway? I don’t even like
Jeness. After everything she’s done to
me…
But nothing she’d done
to me was this bad. She’d made me late
for class a few times, embarrassed me a few times, and made me look stupid a
few times. And she’d said some really
ugly, mean things to me. But none of it
was the equal to this. And I had been
the one who started it, when I warped her psyche or whatever Tuesday.
I walked to the door,
and put my ear to the ceramic (wood is expensive, ceramic is cheap, school
doors are made of ceramic). I could hear
giggling, and a voice saying, “Now suck the other one. Good girl,” and another voice added, “When
it’s my turn she’s gonna lick more than my nipples. Aw, look at those tears!”
Again I felt myself
juicing up. Again I considered walking
into the room to join in on this gang-not-quite-rape. I shook my head, like a dog shaking off
water. There really is a difference
between right and wrong, and that would be wrong. I made a fist and knocked loudly.
“Jeness!” I yelled,
trying to sound commanding, “Jeness! Get
out here! Takahashi’s waiting for
us. Jeness? Come out now or I’m going without you!”
A couple of seconds
later the door opened and Jeness, shaking and sobbing, stepped out into the
hall. A hand drifted from behind and
landed on her shoulder and pulled, no, more guided Jeness backwards, back into
the room. I wrapped both arms around
Jeness’ waist and lifted her off of her feet, carrying her bodily into the
hall. I didn’t stop walking with her
until we were in line for Takahashi’s office.
“You go in first,” I
told her. “I don’t want you out of my
sight until you’re dressed.”
“Y… y… yes,” she
stammered. “Do.. do you want me to… to
kiss you or something?”
She looked so pathetic
just then, and her whole manner was just so weird, that I didn’t even feel
turned on.
“No, I don’t want you to
kiss me,” I snarled. “I want you stay in
line, refuse all Reasonable Requests, and put your God-damned clothes on as
soon as you can.”
She hung her head and
sniffled, and I realized that my voice had been a bit harsh. Well, maybe it needed to be. She did turn down two RRs though, and I
turned down one.
We were almost to the
door when Neil Collins came walking out, wearing jeans and a shirt that looked
like it belonged in an old western. He
was even wearing boots, and I caught myself checking for spurs. There weren’t any, of course.
Jeness started to enter
the principal’s office, turned, and suddenly threw her arms around me, hugging
me and sobbing a bit.
“Thank you,” she
whispered in my ear. Then she turned
around and walked in, a faculty member closing the door behind her.
I was rattled. I needed a distraction, and was glad when one
presented itself.
“How deep is your
pussy?” asked a male voice which seemed just so full of itself.
“Let’s find out,” I
replied, whipping one foot up to rest it lightly on his shoulder before I even
knew who he was. He almost jumped away,
but went limp when he glanced down to find himself eye-to-crotch with me. Well, most of him went limp; since he wasn’t
naked himself I can’t say if THAT part of him firmed up or not.
“Aahhm,” he stammered,
“ah, ah, uh…”
It was Ralph, from
Homeroom. I’d barely noticed him all
week.
“The way to find out,” I
informed him, “is to take the first two fingers of one hand and see how far you
can insert them.”
He glared right at my
vagina, frowning. “It’s kind of an ugly
thing, isn’t it?”
That took me by
surprise. I don’t claim to have the most
beautiful va-jay-jay in the Solar System, but nobody had called it ugly, and a
“I’m sorry,” he said,
“That was a mean thing to say. It’s just
that I’ve never paid much attention to pussy.
I like cock a lot better.”
Ah, now I remembered:
Ralph is gay. Well, then I didn’t expect
him to find that most female of all my parts sexy.
“Hey,” he continued,
“could we do something sort of… sexual?
Just so I can say I’ve tried it?
Not fucking, but something?”
“Sure,” I said. “Why don’t you open your shirt and undo your
pants? Nobody will see anything more
than your chest and belly, but I can put my hand in and you can feel my tits
against you. It’ll be a pretty hot bit
of heterosexual making out, but short of intercourse.”
I grinned as I realized
that I was right back to doing “anything but.”
Oh well.
He opened his shirt (it
was one of those fancy electromagnetic closures that you supposedly can’t tell
from a solid T-shirt, but somehow you always can) and I undid his pants
myself. He looked really nervous as we
embraced, but he didn’t flinch from the touch of my breasts. I put a hand between us and slid it down his
pants, caressing his package through his underwear. Hesitantly, he did the same with me, except
of course that there were no pants and no underwear; it was just his bare hand
touching my bare pussy. When he actually
began to explore a bit with his fingers, I took it as the green light to slip
into that underwear and play with his cock directly.
It was big. Bigger than Bret’s, bigger than Mr. Scott’s,
maybe as big as Doc’s. And it was only
about halfway erect. I wanted it all the
way hard, so I started stroking it up and down.
He responded by slipping a finger into me. He wiggled it a bit, and then started pumping
it in-out in-out in a purely mechanical way.
I did feel his cock growing in my hand, though. Big. Real big.
This continued for a
minute or two, and then he pulled his finger out and stepped away. I pulled my hand out of his pants. He started closing his shirt, so I redid his
pants.
“Thanks,” he said, “That
was… interesting.” He furrowed his brow
a moment. “I mean, it felt good. I got me hard. But it just isn’t…”
He heaved a huge
sigh. “I might try fucking a girl
sometime, just to see if I can, but it looks like I’m a confirmed homosexual.”
“Nothing wrong with
that,” I quipped, “except of course for all the poor women who’ll never get a
chance with your whopping huge dick.”
He face-faulted. Soon, though, he gave me a shy grin.
“You’re the only person
of female persuasion who knows how big it is.”
“Oh don’t worry about
that,” I reminded him, “We’ll all get a good look at it when your Program week
comes.”
He face-faulted,
again. Then, again, he gave me a shy
grin.
“If I decide to try a
woman, that’s when I’ll do it: my Program week.”
“Well,” I assured him,
“I’d be willing to be that woman. But in
private; in about five minutes my week is over, and I don’t think I’m going to
be doing any more public sex.”
“Cool,” he said.
At that moment the
office door opened and Jeness, wearing a long skirt and sleeveless blouse, came
strutting out like she was the queen of the school. Here eyes met mine, and her strut fell
apart. She slinked away, and looked
almost as if she was going to cry again.
I thought that if I never saw her again, it would be too soon.
But now it was my
turn. I walked into the office and
smiled at the principal as the door closed behind me.
Principal Takahashi was
there, of course. So were the two
faculty members, a man and a woman. I
was surprised to see the Warlord there.
Had he changed his mind, and I was in trouble now? I hoped that the worst that would happen was
extra Program time. Botilda would razz
me (“Looks like you got your extra week, Thalberg. ha ha ha”), but it wouldn’t keep me from
graduating this year. There was another
man who looked familiar. Maybe…
“I notice,” Principal
Takahashi began, “that you have had nothing sent except a pair of panties, a
pair of socks, and your shoes.” He
looked me up and down. “You do
understand that your post-Program right to public nudity does not include
school? That you can’t run around
O’Neill in just your panties?”
I looked away from the
Warlord and smiled
“I brought my other
clothing with me,” I told him, unfolding the sarong Botilda had bought me at
Holly-Kon.
Principal Takahashi
face-faulted. “You’ve got to be
kidding.”
I heard a laugh, and
looked to see that it was the man who had looked so familiar. I’d seen him, recently.
“If I tie this in the
Moorea[1] style,” I said, turning back to the
principal, “it will conform to dress code.”
“Show me.”
I held the sarong behind
my back, length horizontal. Being less
than 175 centimetres tall, my arms span less than that, so I had to gather some
material in each hand. I was just
starting to bring my arms forward, wrapping the material around me body, when I
heard the Warlord speak.
“A moment, Anzu.”
I stopped, and even
dropped my arms to my side, making me naked still. Here it comes: some sort of punishment for
being disrespectful, insubordinate, willful, wayward, and rebellious. How could I have expected him to be good to
his word last Friday when he told me that I wasn’t in trouble?
“Mr. Takahashi,” he
said, not even looking at me for the moment, “I need to tell Miss James
something before her Program week is officially over, which it will be as soon
as she is dressed. It won’t take long.”
Takahashi frowned, and I
knew he had no idea what was going on.
Maybe I’d have a chance to plead my case, if they hadn’t already decided
it together.
“I’d wondered why you
insisted on being a part of this, John,” Takahashi started, “knowing how you
feel about the Program. I guess this is
the reason. Well, be quick, Mr. Carter,
and you may make your statement.”
“Thank you,” my biology
teacher nodded before turning to me.
“Anzu James,” he
addressed me, “I’ve given a lot of thought to what you said last Friday.”
Oh great. I was going to be expelled, at least
suspended. If he’d “given a lot of
thought” to it, I was screwed.
“And,” he continued,
“I’ve made a decision. You will have to
put up with me until Summer Break, but I am resigning after that and returning
to university back home. I’m going to
teach at
The familiar-looking man
smiled. “So are you Brooke Shields
today, or Nastassja Kinski?”
“Wha…?” I
stuttered. “Nastassja Kins…? OH!
You’re the guy from the david, when we came back from Holly-Kon.”
“I am indeed. When John called me about moving on, I had no
idea it had anything to do with you.”
Now it was the Warlord’s
turn to look puzzled. “Ulysses, you know
this girl?”
“Not really,” Mr. Paxton
admitted. “I met her and her friend
briefly yesterday. They’re movie buffs.”
“Oh good Lord,” Carter
sighed. Then he turned back to me.
“I don’t expect you to
like me, Anzu, but now maybe you’ll at least consider me worthy to polish the
teeth of your grandmother’s sorak.”
My grandmother’s
what? Sorak, sorak… I’ve heard that somewhere before. Suddenly I remembered where, and just gawked
at him. He had known all along?
He was chuckling. “You didn’t think a boy named John Carter,
growing up on Mars, didn’t read those books, did you? The movies were OK, but could’ve been more
faithful to the source material.”
Could it be that he
wasn’t such a bad guy after all? No, he
was, but I could give him the benefit of the doubt for now. If he reverted to asshole mode, well, I wasn’t
going to have to put up with him for much longer.
“Mr. Carter,” I said,
and I meant it, “I wish you the best of luck in your new career choice. Whatever passed between us before, I respect
that you’re doing the right thing.”
“If,” Takahashi
practically harrumphed, “this literary and cinematic conference is over, we’ve
got other students to deal with, and I’m still waiting to see how that…
rectangle is going to satisfy the dress code.”
“Of course,” I nodded, and
again stretched the sarong behind me.
Keeping my arms straight, I brought them together in front of me,
switched the ends from hand to hand, and twisted the ends several times. I then brought the ends behind my neck, tied
a simple knot, and adjusted the front of my dress (for such it now was) so that
it would not gap open. I then put on the
panties, socks, and shoes. Just like
that, I went from Program kid to dressed student. How strange.
Takahashi ran his eyes
over me, frowning.
“You’re not wearing a
bra.”
“As long as my breasts
don’t show I’m not required to. I
checked.”
“It looks like it could
fall off or gap open at any time.”
“Well,” I allowed, “if I
have any trouble with that, I intend to augment this ancient garment with a
modern high-tech wonder,” at which point I opened my left hand to reveal five
ordinary safety pins, of the sort used in your day.
There were chuckles
around the room. Takahashi waved me away,
but he was smiling.
“Get out of my office,
Anzu James. Your Program week is officially
over.”
A faculty member opened
the door and I left. There were a few
Program participants still waiting, and a couple of clothed students looked
very nervous. They would be the first of
this week’s inductees.
As I walked to Homeroom,
hardly anybody noticed me at all. I
wasn’t special anymore; I was just another junior. This is going to take some getting used to.
I saw this week’s
Program participant for our Homeroom round the corner and jiggle her way past
me.
It was Rashida. How the hell did she know?
Just as the warning bell
rang, I saw Botilda standing outside the door to Homeroom, smiling and waving
to me. Next to her was Bret, and he too
was smiling. I smiled and rushed to join
them. I am special.
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